Kim- Harper High School in Idaho

Harper High School – so far away from Idaho?

The relationship between Crystal and DaVante hit close to home. “I appreciate you in advance” she states.  Crystal models being tuned-in to her feelings in front of the students who are so hardened and apathetic.  “Please remove the ear buds  from your ears so I “don’t feel disrespected”. She stays vigilante in the effort of aiding DaVante to a better life.  Later in the story she crashes with signs of stress. She wonders if she is making a difference.  She reaches out to hear a single story of success, “I really needed to hear that she made it”. 

This past year I walked in Crystal’s shoes in the beautiful suburb of Coeur d’Alene Idaho, a place where tourists travel many miles to visit.  The beautiful lakes and glorious tree covered mountains awestruck people from around the world.  Heaven, right?

Not for one student.  I will call her Anne.  During the seven months that she attended my school, my classroom, my heart, she lived in four different houses.  Family threw her around like an old blanket, from one couch to another.  She was hardened, apathetic, and hurt. The students at Harper High School didn’t “feel”, didn’t want to remember, numbed their emotions and so did Anne.

Living with her maternal grandmother was difficult because her Gram was angry at her own daughter’s neglect and took it out on Anne.  She was shuttled to an Aunt’s house and was ridiculed for her style of clothing and music.  When her paternal grandmother passed away, she mourned in a “inappropriate way” according to the family.  She was alienated, mocked, and shunned for her behavior.  That event started an avalanche.

She began cutting herself and when her father found out she was admitted to a Behavioral Health Clinic.  The family flew into crisis mood and attention was all on Anne.  She stayed for a week and when she returned to school she was again shuttled to Mom’s house.  Anne shared with me that she wanted to kill herself and be done with this life.  She was prescribed anti-depressants that made her agitated or sleepy.  I encouraged her to tell the doctor to reevaluate the dosage. Her living arrangements were in a constant state of flux, to the extreme that she had to keep her medication with her at school, because she didn’t know who might take them, or where she would be staying that night.

Anne came to me during lunch recess a week after she returned and shaking and trembling she stated that she wanted to take the whole bottle of pills.  I asked her how many pills she had taken and I walked her to the office.  Phone calls later, family and sheriff were contacted and the family agreed to get Anne to the doctor.  That didn’t happen.

Living with Mom continued.  She was removed from her home because of drug use and alcoholism.  Mom’s brother lived with them too. I bring this up to explain that a Monday morning as I greeted each student with a handshake, Anne embraced me with a hug and answered my  “How was your weekend?” question with “My weekend sucked, my Uncle molested me!”  She had experienced constant movement, a death, a suicide attempt, medication abuse, and now sexual molestation.

The story continues and it doesn’t end well.  Anne attempted a third time to kill herself and was admitted back to the hospital and eventually sent to a state hospital.  Her absence in the classroom was huge.  We mourned her absence.  Her predicament remained confidential which left a lot of confusion. I weep as I write this.  She is eleven years old.