Into yet another world

Although nowadays, it is recommended you never visit the home of a child alone, twenty-seven years ago when I went to Rich’s house, I went alone.  Mr. Brock had approved of my idea to do home visits and I was able to confirm a date and time with Rich’s mom via notes (no phone in the home).  So, off I went one day after school about to enter into yet another world. 

            It wasn’t in the best part of town but when I found the home, I gathered my notes, locked my car and took a deep breath.  Little did I know that was the last “deep breath” I would take for an hour. 

            Because I went to the house right after school, Rich and his brother had not arrived on the bus yet.  This gave me a chance to talk to Rich’s mom before Rich came home.  Rich’s dad sat in an armchair watching a loud television in the living room while drinking a coke.  Mrs. A and I sat at the kitchen table a few feet away from the noise of the TV.   Mrs. A was a small, simple woman.  Her clothes were several sizes too big and her hands and fingernails were filthy  I could see she was uncomfortable with the situation and her discomfort along with the smells in the house (stale cigarette smoke, urine, and last night’s fried dinner) heightened my desire to get this meeting over with quickly.

            I started our time together by trying to find something in the house I could compliment her on.  There was a ceramic crucifix hanging on her kitchen wall.

            “I like your crucifix,” I said.  “Did you paint that yourself?”

            “No.  My sister made it in one of those classes at the hospital.”

            “It’s very nice,” I told her.  She lowered her eyes.

            “Mrs. A.” I jumped right in.  “I’m very concerned about Rich running out of the school to sniff gas fumes.”

            “Yeah, he tries that here at home so we put him on a leash so he can’t leave the yard.”

            “A leash?” I question.

            “Yeah.  He every day want to be outside, so we put him on a chain leash on the clothesline so he can move up and down.  He like to eat the grass,” She explained.   

            “Can I see where you do this?” I asked.  She eyed me suspiciously.  “It’s okay, I’m just curious.” I assured her.  We walked outside to the backyard.  I was amazed at how the stale smells of the house followed us out the door.  She quickly showed me the clothesline that she attaches her son to in order for him to graze.  We had just walked the 10 foot length of the clothesline when we heard the bus toot its horn, ready to drop Rich and his younger brother off.  We returned to the kitchen, Mr. A was standing inside the doorway watching Rich’s younger brother leading him down the sidewalk.  Mrs. A and I returned to our seats. Without speaking to him, Mr. A took Rich’s hand, led him to a kitchen chair, sat him down in the chair and then secured him with a rope. 

            “Hi Rich,” I said through my shock.  If this was something that I experienced today, I would run to the nearest phone and call child protective services, but as a young untrained 23-year-old, I was much more cautious and unaware of my obligations.  But I noted it and intended to have a long talk with Colleen as soon as possible.

            I realized at this point that I was not going to receive any expert advice from the parents on how to handle Rich.  Rich sat next to me twirling his fingers and shyly smiling at me every once in awhile.  Ten minutes later it was time for some fresh air.

            “Well, Mrs. A and Rich, I need to get going.  Thank you so much for letting me come into your home and meet with you.  Did you have any questions before I leave?” I asked.

            “No.  You can tie Rich up at school.  I don’t see no other way you can keep him in the school.” She offered.

            “Mrs. A, I am a brand new teacher and there is a lot I don’t know, but I DO know I could never tie up a child for any reason anytime.”  I saw a look of panic cross her face.  “But, what I am going to do is talk with the school social worker and see what ideas she might have.  Is that okay with you?”

            She reached over and stroked Rich’s hair lovingly.  “Yes” she said sadly, “as long as they don’t take my Richie away.”

            I could feel myself suffocating.  I needed space.  I needed fresh air.  I rose to leave.

            “Bye Rich.” I said as I prepared to leave.  I took one last look at the untidy home, the loving mother, and the young man tied to the chair.  I turned and walked out the door.

            After taking a life-saving deep breath, I drove my car to the back lot of a local park, rolled down my window and taking in big gulps of fresh air, I laid my forhead against the steering wheel and sobbed.