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I started my teaching career in a Chicago middle school as a sub.
Our cars were locked up so they would not be vandalized during the day.
We were expected to leave by 4:30, so we would be safe.
One time I saw a bunch of children chasing one child, and two were holding bats.
Children told me they could not leave their block.
They told me it was dangerous.
Gangs owned the next block.
Many had never been anywhere else.
Some had brothers and sisters who had been shot and killed.
More than I like to think about.
Some bragged about knocking an old man out of a wheelchair
And hearing him cry because he could not get up.
I asked if they had felt sorry for him.
No.
I was assigned to a classroom of ten-year-olds for a three week stint.
They did not know what a campfire was, or a sleep over, or camping out.
I brought flashlights, and we sat in a dark classroom telling ghost stories one day.
They loved it, and so did I until security came rushing in to “rescue” me.
There was such a commotion,
Screaming and scrambling.
A peaceful, fun experience, ending with almost violence from reactive officers.
One of them said “You can’t do stuff like this! These are BAD kids!”
There were bad-acting people in there, but they were not the kids.

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