I had to take a week off from working with Kathy because I was enrolled in a “Storytelling” class at the Campbell Folk Art School. (More about that later). I arrived on Monday for our lesson a bit early, because I wanted to make some new flash cards for her to take home. I planned to introduce new material, to make up for the lost week. But she didn’t show up at 11:00 as expected.
I wasn’t too concerned. I thought, with a week off, she might be out of sync or have forgotten. Still, I didn’t want to leave the college without being absolutely sure she wasn’t going to come. So I called her house.
Her husband answered the phone. I could barely understand him because his accent and diction was so bad, but I heard enough for him to tell me Kathy was not on her way. He was supposed to have called me, but he’d forgotten.
He explained. Kathy is in jail.
He said she didn’t do anything wrong – yet she broke her probation. I didn’t ask for particulars (considering I couldn’t understand them even if he gave them to me.) I asked when she would be released. He said maybe next week. But then again, they might just keep her in there for five years!
I hung up. Then, I cried.
I was so upset. I know this has nothing to do with me, but Kathy has been honest with her “problem” and she seemed so determined to work on reading and to change her life. And I have been her cheerleader in this campaign. I took a week off, and she immediately slipped back into her bad habits. Worse yet, I had no idea what was happening. I wish I’d been there for her.
The directors of the literacy program just shrugged when I explained what was happening, and said, “This sort of thing happens with those sorts of people.” It didn’t phase them.
They asked me if I wanted a new student, someone without problems. I’m afraid I don’t believe anyone who can’t read a word can be considered “without problems. Besides which, that is like asking a child if they want a new puppy moments after their beloved dog has been squished under the wheel of a car. Ummm… NO! I want MY student. I want to help her. I want to change her life. I want to see her read – OUT from behind bars, preferably.
I don’t need a student who is “easy” to teach. I am not afraid of facing all the fallout that comes with illiteracy. And not following through with a commitment doesn’t sit well with me. I told the women in the office that Kathy was upfront with me about her involvement with Meth, that she told me all about her probation, and that I didn’t care. I knew she was battling this ugly business from the start, and if anything, I admire her desire to read all the more knowing that her lifestyle (and wanting to change it) is one of the reasons she was willing to make the effort.
When they saw how bothered I was, and how badly I felt, they asked me if I wanted them to call the jail and make arrangements so I could visit and tutor her there.They have some pull, they explained.
Now, we are talking! I am going to wait a few days to see if this is a short term thing, and if she isn’t out by Monday, I’m going down there to talk to the sheriff (or whatever they call these country authorities). I’ll drag my damn flashcards to the county jail if I have to to get the job done. Five years? Well, if that were to be the case, I’ll have her reading Faulkner before I’m done.
In the meantime, I can’t stop thinking about Kathy, her ten year old son, and what it must be to live her life of disadvantage. All things considered, I’m not surprised she turns to drugs. Who’s to say what I would do, given such dismal opportunities from birth on.
I guess something like this would put a lot of people off, but it gears me up. I would have made a great warrior, had I lived in a time where a real battle ensued. Now, if nothing else, I’d like to think I am a good friend. So, I’m gonna hang in there as long as I can, flashcards in the back pocket of my cheerleading suit .
Anyway, I’ll write more updates as they occur.
Monthly Archives: March 2006
Kathy’s problem
Sly, but respectable, Bunny
Ever since the birth of our baby bunnies, I have been looking to see if the mother goes to visit them. It has been three weeks. I have yet to see her anywhere near the box, and let me tell you, I am sneaky about trying to catch her being a “good mother”. I go out at all hours of the day. Sometimes at night. She is always sitting still along side the box, acting totally uninterested. I bark at her to go inside and take care of her babies.
She just stares at me as if to say, “Mind your own business.”
Every two days or so since I discovered their existence, I have taken a small plastic spatula and moved some of the shavings aside to see if they have survived. Disturbed from their slumber, they scurry back under the warmth of the fuzz gathered there and I am cover them up again, delighted because they are alive. All three.
A week ago, I discovered they had grown hair. One is pitch black with a white stripe down his back and face (we will call him skunk, of course). One is white with black dots and the other white with grey dots. Their ears are the size of my thumbnail. Their bodies stretch out long and bunch back up like a slinky. They even have that perfect white tuff at the rear that only rabbits (and playboy bunnies) have.
Today, they opened their eyes. ( I stuck my digital camera in the box and took the shot hoping I had aimed at something. . . and this isn’t a case of photographic “red eye” , in case you are wondering. Nope. This particular bunny has pink eyes – thanks to me, he might be temporarily blind now, thanks to the flash in their dark, cozy world, but I couldn’t resist trying to capture them this young.) They are more active now, scurrying around in that box without my needing to disturb them to prove they are alive. They are gaining in size and look healthy. I guess we are the proud owners of FIVE bunnies now, and I expect they will emerge from the box any day to start exploring the world.
We need a bigger cage!
I still haven’t seen the mother near them, but obviously, she must attend to this brood sometime. Perhaps she stays outside because she is standing guard the nesting box. She might act aloof to throw off predators. Should this be the case, my feelings are hurt. I am hardly a predator – I am the favored snack lady who comes baring carrots, cabbage and pepper almost daily! You’d think she would share the secret of her newborns with me, if no one else. Well, she has proven a good mother, despite our rough misunderstanding at first, and all my shouting at her, so I won’t complain.
Spring is easing forth. The weather is glorious (58 today) and the sun is shining. A few dogwoods are blooming, and daffodils are beginning to open up all over the mountain. It is fun to celebrate this season with new life in the family – fuzzy, adorable, tender little bunnies that will be just old enough to give away by Easter (bite my tongue!)
If certainly feels like spring.
I can’t describe my relief that our bunnies are healthy and growing steadily. It is nice to get some verification that we are good at this sort of thing. We have a pregnant horse, remember, due in only two months!
I watch Dixie getting bigger everyday, her eyes growing a bit sluggish and her feet dragging. She doesn’t eat as much as she did (no room inside for anything more than that colt, I’m guessing.) But she is gentle with me. Sweet. I am anxious about the big day to come when we will welcome another new life to our family – this one too big to hide under shavings.
I promise, this time, I will not shout at the mother, or be so presumptuous as to think I can tell how to do the job right.
We mothers don’t need counsel. We act on instinct. And we stick together. One and all.
Heart of Ginny 