Skip to main content

Not Safe in Her Own Bed

Some of you who are local may have heard about this.  A six-year old girl - not at the school I used to work at but one nearby - was shot while asleep in her bed. Now, I’ve written about several kids who have been shot and killed (thankfully, this little girl is going to make it although it’s an experience she should never have had to go through) and I see two kinds of responses.  Primarily, people are compassionate and express what I consider to be the appropriate emotions: sadness, incredulity, and anger.  Occasionally, however, there’s someone either commenting on my blog or on the story that I linked to basically saying “Well, they live in the ghetto, what do they expect?”  I hate that reaction.  I understand it, especially if the person writing is afraid - they need to reassure themselves that these kids were different in some way and that this could never happen to their own children.  But I hate it.
 
It comes back to this for me though: we should never stop being outraged and devastated when children are killed.  Ever.  I don’t care if it’s in East Oakland or Congo, just because something is frequent does not make it normal or acceptable.  This child was shot while she was sleeping.  I don’t know what to do about it (no idea; I wish I did) but I do know that we can’t accept it.
 
I was talking to “Chantal,” my former student who has now graduated from high school.  She’s doing better - gotten a job, had a little bit of help from a generous friend of mine, and is feeling encouraged.  But this really got her down.  She said she knew the city was bad and she wants to travel cause she’s sick of looking at this “tore-up ghetto.”  But even this girl, who has grown up in this environment and known plenty of kids and adults who have been the victims and perpetrators of violent crimes… even with all that, she just kept repeating, “I never thought a little kid wouldn’t be safe in her own bed.”
 
One year ago: Elmo and Gang Signs

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Volunteers

I had some of the most overqualified volunteers ever in my third grade class.  This may have had something to do with the fact that I shamelessly begged my friends to help in any way possible.  I think there were a few friends who I asked to come as soon as I met them, before I was entirely sure of their names.  Some of my volunteers included: -Someone with an MFA helping kids read -a PhD candidate in chemical engineering from Stanford helping with math -a PhD candidate in civil engineering from Cal helping with math -several PhD candidates in engineering from Cal teaching about construction (several years in a row) and helping with a field trip -my extremely talented brother bringing his drums several times -a friend from Pixar who got us tours three different years, once when they were no longer giving tours - and came to the class to sign the kids' toys from Cars . -a physical therapist (who I think has a masters') who helped the kids with reading -many athlet...

The Best Mistake

I recently wanted to get a pedicure (I promise this will be important) and was looking at nail salons nearby. I knew there was a place called Kim's Nails near my exercise class, so I quickly googled to see if I could make an appointment online (I hate calling on the phone) and it let me, so I made an appointment for a few days later and went on with my day. Later that day, I got a text confirming my appointment and I realized that I had made the appointment at the wrong Kim's Nails! I meant to make an appointment for the one in my city and I made one at a nail shop in the next city over (Kim's Nails is a common business name). Because I had already made the appointment and they had taken the time to text me, I figured I'd just go with it. OK, if you're still with me, this is where it gets exciting! A few hours after I got the confirmation text, the owner of Kim's Nails texted me again. the text just said, "Are you a teacher?" I didn't know why they...

A New Prison, Part Two

  Second very long part of the prison visit report.   After we got all the paperwork filled out and went through the metal detector, we got visitation slips with the name of the inmate, and made our way over to the other building for visitation. This is not maximum security so thankfully you can just sit next to the inmates, and not be separated by glass or have to use a telephone to talk.    First, you get a gate unlocked and go into a holding pen that is of course in direct sunlight (or rain if it's that season) and surrounded by fences topped with razor wire. You wait there until the gate at the other end is unlocked. This holding pen was a little bigger and less claustrophobic than the other prison (I do not have any claustrophobia and I came very close to a panic attack once at the other place) and they opened the other gate more quickly. Then you walk, again in blazing sunlight (or rain) to the visitation building. This one was less of a walk than the other pri...