Out Where the Human Storm Rages

P. Donohue Shortridge/Children/Out Where the Human Storm Rages
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Out Where the Human Storm Rages

(This is a true story. I worked as a mentor to Montessori
teachers who serve young children under six years old in inner
city Denver Headstart programs.)

Latrell was revving up all morning; running, hitting and
literally bouncing off walls. The last thing he did right before
I seized him was to lunge a chair, prongs out at another child. I
leapt out of my seat and grabbed hold of him. He fought me
mightily. Mostly I think he was shocked, no one in his five old
years it seemed had ever stopped him in mid-assault like that.
Our colliding energies propelled us to the floor. I held my arms
around him as we fell together but I managed to land on my butt
with him in my lap. Perfect.
He screamed for his teacher, Miss Marian, who was putting her
coat on and gathering children to leave for the playground. As
she looked at us then looked away, Latrell struggled and screamed
louder as he realized his Miss Marian wasn't about to rescue him
from this brig. He was all shock, surprise, anger and
humiliation made worse by the taunts of his cousin and a few
boys. As all the children were leaving, he tried to wrest
himself free and screamed louder in anger and frustration. I
remained perfectly still, unrelenting. I worked on my breathing
and centering. I assured him that as soon as he could calm
himself we could deal with this.
In time, his shrecks dissolved into sobs, his mask of
defiance cracking into teary streams down his black face. I just
held him and rocked. Finally, he was spent. I continued to
breathe deeply and invited him to do the same. He complied. I
told him that if he agreed not to move, I would get him a drink
of water. He nodded, so I brought him a full glass. He drank it
in a gulp as I resumed my position with him, holding him gently
now. I met no resistance. He leaned back into me and we rocked
together. Then calm.
Somewhere from within me a voice began to speak. "You know
what I think?" He was shocked to hear calm sounds, yet drunk in
the words. "I think you are very, very smart, aren't you." He
measured my trustworthiness, then chose to engage. He nodded.
"Today, you counted all the stars on my left earring, then you
continued the count on the other one." You know your numbers
don't you." Another nod. He leaned into me. We were breathing
together now. After some silence I continued. "I noticed that
Miss Marian wrote the names of the other children but you could
write your own name."
I paused and waited for more wisdom. "I can see that you
bounce around because you're looking for something that you can't
find. You need something for you, don't you." He leaned into me
ever more still. "You're going to have trouble all your life,
Latrell, if you choose the way of violence. You are a very
special boy, you are strong and brave. You are a leader. We can
help you find something. We can. I'll talk to Miss Marian about
finding something for you." Then quiet rocking. He was holding
my fingers. Then still.
"Let's join our friends on the playground", I said finally.
He calmly rose and got his jacket. We simultaneously joined
hands and walked outside. As we headed across the street to the
playground he pointed to the housing project down the street. "I
live there", he said matter-of-factly. "Oh, really, who lives
there with you?" "My auntie and my grandma." "Where's mom and
dad?" "In jail", he said again matter-of-factly as we stepped
over the used condom at curbside. "I'm sorry", was all I could
muster. We walked on.
Right before we reached the playground I stopped, stooped
down in front of him, took his hands in mine and looked right into
his eyes. He held my gaze,then we both smiled widely. We resumed
our walk, hand-in-hand all the way into the playground. Only
then did he let it go and he was off.

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