Merry Kraziness, Sorry I Slapped You In The Face!

 (In order to simplify things, I will give kids fictitious names rather than just describe them in each blog. I’ll keep the same names to identify them and link to other posts involving them, just to make things more interesting for you, the reader.)

The holidays are always a particularly rough time for children in residential facilities.  Even some of the most cooperative and non-problematic of kids can become a nightmare during these times.  It may be trauma related to the holiday season, the reminder that they’re away from family, uncertainty of whether they’ll be able to have a home visit, or even the prospect of going home for the holidays to a volatile or unstable home environment that creates the anxiety.

You’d think I’d know better than to take overtime on day shifts during the holidays, but then maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment. But it seems I always end up working at least one day shift during the holiday season. This past Sunday was no exception.  Just a few days before Christmas, it was ripe for craziness.

Of course since I work third shift, Sunday morning came after already working an 8 hours all night. Fortunately I had asked the right questions to ensure I would be working with someone who wouldn’t sit on his ass while I did all the work. Mr. Mac and I always have fun when we work together so I was looking forward to it. 

As it turned out, Mac and I did have our hands full all day, but it wasn’t extremely bad. I already had my first little guy up at 6 when Mac arrived. Little “Trevor” had been wet when I checked on him a few minutes before se he was showering, and of course when he was getting his clothes out of his drawer he had woken his roommate, “Bart.” 

By 7, we had 5 of our 8 boys already awake and not allowed to come out until 8:30.  “Kevin” and “Huey” were awake and feeding off of each other’s negative behavior and “Billy” was up yet playing quietly in his room. We let the boys know that we would be calling them out to get dressed and have breakfast in the order of the quality of their behavior. Oops, now Billy’s roommate “Opie” and hyper little “Carter” were awake and restless. Amazingly, “Vlad” was still sound asleep for a while.

Finally we were able to get most of the boys up and fed, having to separate Kevin and Huey to help them get their act together. As could be predicted during the holidays, Mac and I had to constantly keep moving to keep the boys from killing each other.

An amazing thing happened by 10:30. We were able to bring out board games and most of the boys (even Huey and Kevin) were doing a great job playing nicely and getting along, for the most part. Only Vlad kept to himself, opting to keep his eyes glued to the TV. 

Lunch was the funniest part of the day.  The kids from all the dorms ate together in the cafeteria. The table I was monitoring (2 tables per dorm) was right next to the table with the boys from the other dorm I work.  In the middle of lunch, “Jimmy” (whom you’ve previously met in earlier posts such as “Smartass—And a PAIN in the ass")got up and was getting some water, which was right beside where I was sitting. He was being his usual silly self and he reached over and playfully swatted at me. He ended up smacking me in the cheek. You should have seen the look on his face, he clearly didn’t expect to actually make contact. He got his water and scooted right back to his table. Of course I knew he didn’t mean it, so I tried to call him over to talk before the end of lunch, but he was acting tough and refusing to come over and talk to me. I just figured I’d catch him later.

As far as our boys from our dorm, only about 3 of them behaved properly at lunch (Vlad, and ironically, Huey and Kevin) so Mac and I had to lower the boom when we got back to the dorm. While the three got to start their free time, the rest had to spend some time in their rooms (or by the door of their rooms in the case of those who were both in trouble.   Fortunately everybody got to have free time within 20 minutes of returning from lunch and mostly did well—with one exception.

I don’t know what set him off, but Carter just stared going off, and we had him go to his room to calm down. He proceeded to tear up his room, scream and cry. Mac and I took turns trying to deescalate him, but he kept going until nearly the end of the shift when we finally did clean his mess up and join the other boys.

It was finally 2 O’clock and time to go. Since I won’t be seeing any of the boys until after Christmas I went around and wished each of our guys a Merry Christmas. Got 5 hugs and 2 fist bumps before leaving. In another  stroke of good fortune, the manager walked on the dorm with the three boys from another dorm I work with occasionally in addition to my two main dorms. So I got to give out 3 more fist bumps before getting out the door. And of course I had to go visit my other main dorm and wish those guys a Merry Christmas. More fist bumps and hugs, and finally got to pull Jimmy aside again. 

Jimmy seemed relieved I had realized he didn’t mean to hit me, although he had played it off earlier to look tough.  And of course he was excited to tell me he would be getting to go home for the holiday in a few hours.

It could have been a whole lot worse working the Sunday before Christmas, but I was still exhausted at the end of the day. 16 hours, the majority of the last 8 spent on my feet.

Merry Christmas everybody!

Skinny Nick and the John Lennon Shades

I’ve mostly worked in residential facilities in my career, but I’ve also worked in some school-based and after-school programs. I’d thought I’d forgotten the interesting stories that came out of those, but as I write some of them have begun popping up in my head.

“Nick” was 11 years old when I began working at the after school mental health program. He did NOT like me. This came as no surprise to my co-workers in the program because of the fact that I had the audacity to have been born male. Nick, due to a long bad history with men who were abusive, did not often let men into his world.

For the first school year I worked in the program I had little contact with Nick as he was usually in the other of two classrooms in the program. But occasionally one of us would have to cover a mental health group for someone else in the other room, or the whole group would come together for the rare occasion. 

It wasn’t until that summer that I began to work with Nick more regularly. As our program was based in a middle school, our summer program moved to the residential facility which sponsored the program. We had more combined groups in the summer, and also we shared swim time in the residential facility’s pool.

Nick and I developed a “relationship” of sorts. He was just as sarcastic as I am, and so I think trading barbs in a friendly way helped open the door and help him feel safe with me as I didn’t take offense at his sarcasm. I also think it helped that I don’t sugar coat the truth for the kids I work with. I try to be polite, but if I think a kid’s just being a bully or a constant whiner, I tell them. 

That summer I had found a couple really cool pairs of round “John Lennon” style shades. And of course I’d wear them when we went outside, particularly when monitoring the kids at the pool. One day Nick told me “You better watch out. I’m gonna steal those sunglasses when you’re not looking.” It became a daily ritual of sorts until one day I told him “I’ll tell you what. On your last day in program, I’m going to GIVE you these.” He of course told me he was going to hold me to my word.

There were more little milestones which signaled trust. We were playing around one day in a group I joked around about him being so skinny I could throw him out the little slit of a window we had. Of course it was clearly too small so it was an obvious exaggeration. But he dared me and I picked him up like I was going to do it. And we both got a big kick out of it. Later a co-worker and I were talking and I said “a few months ago I wouldn’t have even been able to get NEAR Nick, let alone pick him up like that.” 

At the end of the summer we packed up and moved all of the program’s stuff back to the middle school. But the school had need of the two rooms we had been using and so consigned us to a large (and very echo-y) space that wasn’t being used. Due to the new accommodations we ended up combining both classrooms into one big group. It actually reduced our workload some because each of us had to plan and facilitate fewer groups, but it also increased the drama within the now larger group.

I recall one incident where things became so out of hand that we had to call the police to assist. Nick was one of the kids who had gotten out of hand in that situation, and so had to talk to the officers. Other than that, Nick had often become a positive leader within the group.

I don’t recall if that was the incident which precipitated it, but one day a social worker had shown up with Nick. (I invite my former co-workers to fill in any details for me since I’m sure they recognize who I’m talking about) She explained that Nick was refusing to return to program. We of course tried to encourage him to continue and resolve whatever the problem was as he would be graduating from the program before too long anyway. He was determined, so I piped up.

“Remember I said I would give you those shades on your last day. I’m going to run down to my car and get them because they’re yours.” He said don’t bother, that it was fine. But I insisted. When I jogged back up with them (we were a few floors up) I told him “I promised you these, and keeping my word means a lot to me. I couldn’t let you leave without giving you these.” Nick was a bit speechless, but said thanks before leaving.

It wasn’t too much later that Nick voluntarily started coming to program again, and continued to excel as the natural leader he is. 

The day finally came when Nick graduated from the program. At his goodbye party he had a little something to say to each of us. When he came to me, he recalled the day I wouldn’t let him leave until I ran down and back up the stairs, just to keep my promise of giving him a stupid pair of shades. He was actually in tears as he told me how much that impacted him as he was so used to men breaking promises to him. Okay, we were BOTH in tears. I couldn’t have known that it would be as important to him as it was to me, and one of the reasons he came back when he was determined to leave.

I saw Nick a few times after that. He lived close to some friends of mine and so I had seen him walking past when I was leaving. I think I even gave him a lift down the street one time. I’m still amazed that I could have gone from being someone a kid wanted NOTHING to do with to someone he actually trusted and liked.

Jekyll, Hyde, and the Truth Behind The Mask.

Bad kids.

Few things irk me more than hearing someone refer to some kid as a bad kid. Or even if they don’t say it but instead imply it, I hate the very idea of identifying kids as if they are their behavior. I don’t work with bad kids. I work with kids who, for reasons either biological or environmental, have problems with their behavior. The same implies for all people, but since I work with kids I’d like to focus on them specifically.

In my job I get some background information on the kids in my care that helps me understand a little bit of what drives them to do and react in the ways they do. It’s helpful to a point, but it’s far more important to get to know the whole person. Simply looking at a kid as a set of behaviors or problems is a convenient way to save our own feelings and it makes it easier to write them off so they won’t be our problem, but it solves nothing.

Let’s just imagine for a moment that we could look at each child and get a glimpse of them through God’s eyes. God sees what we don’t see. He sees each person’s private pain. He sees the errant ideas we each are given about our identity, the people around us, how problems are resolved, and a whole host of things. In other words, He sees the whole picture and the reason behind the things we do. So please indulge me and take a little trip behind the scenes of a child’s personal drama through some composites of cases I’ve encountered over the years.

Pauly

Pauly is 9 years old. He seems friendly, affectionate and charming when you meet him. You can’t imagine why Pauly would be a danger to himself or others enough to need to be in a locked facility. After all, he’s so adorable, right? RIGHT? And then there he is, ignoring everything you say, calling you names you doubt even the most hardened sailor knows, and hitting you so hard he bruises you all up. You then find out Pauly is on close observation because he was caught trying to force a younger kid into a sexual act.

Wow. Pauly isn’t the sweet, loving kid you thought, right? What a little monster. How could he do all this? He must just be some kind of bad seed-a budding sociopath. 

Cut to a new scene:

Pauly is 9 years old. From as early as he can remember, he has been an object. He’s had to share many a bed, including his parents’ bed since he was old enough to walk. When he was 5 years old, a family friend came to visit for a weekend. Pauly’s dad dressed him in a cute and skimpy outfit, then sent him to the guest bedroom as a gift to “Uncle Joe.” Since that weekend there had been many “Uncle Joes” and some “aunts” as well, all eager for Pauly’s company. When Pauly turned 7, his mom and dad encouraged him to bring friends home from school, and to “play around” with them. Soon some of Pauly’s special friends were added to the family business as well. Finally, someone told the police and Pauly was taken from his parents.

Still think Pauly’s a “bad kid?”

Zach

Zach is 7 years old when he appears on your scene. He’s very compliant, friendly and seems a really sweet little guy. You’re enjoying working with him and you just lightly put your hand on his shoulder. Zach freaks out. It’s like a Jekyll and Hyde scenario. The calm, sweet little boy goes on a rampage, tearing up everything in the entire living area, showing incredible strength for his scrawny little frame. Then, as suddenly as he blew up, Zach collapses to the floor, balling up into a fetal position, clawing at his own skin and drawing blood.

Dang. He seemed like such a sweet little boy? What happened? He must have parents who just let him get away with everything he wants. With a tantrum like that, it has to be the only explanation, right?

New Scene:

Zach is 7 years old. It’s dark in the basement where he’s handcuffed to this chair. He doesn’t even understand what he did to make mommy and daddy so mad. His brothers and sisters are here too, or tied up in other rooms. This is pretty typical, though. This is what happens when mommy and daddy get mad. At least he got to eat today. Last time, mommy hit him with the spatula for a long time and locked him in his room for a week without food. Zach has some sense that other families aren’t like his, but for him this is just normal.

Are you seeing Zach a little differently now?

Amanda

Amanda is 10 years old. She’s an emotional roller coaster. One moment she is charming, witty, and engaging, the next moment flying off the handle, throwing everything in sight. In addition, she behaves provocatively, even seductively. The first day you meet her, she tries to sit in your lap and asks for a kiss. You find out that just last week she talked one of the boys into running away, promising him sex. She’s a very attractive girl, but at times will mark her face up with markers and try to hide from everyone. In addition, your cell phone went missing yesterday and was later found in Amanda’s room with 5 calls having been made from it.

What are you thinking of Amanda? Wow, what a thieving little slut, eh? Already putting herself out there at her age, and taking things from people. And what is up with all the violence?

Scene change:

Amanda is 10 years old. Her mom has little time for her since her daddy left when Amanda was only a toddler. Mom has been busy trying to find love herself, dating whenever she can. They’ve lived with 4 different men since the time Amanda’s daddy abandoned them and never looked back. Two of the men wanted little to do with little Amanda, but the second and third paid her special attention-attention that included making her do things her mom wasn’t willing to do for them but that a little girl had no power to stop. The latest of Mom’s boyfriends regularly locked Amanda out of the house whenever mom was off at work.

Surprised?

Terry

Terry is a strange 11 year old boy. He’s compliant overall and not unfriendly, but doesn’t seem to know how to get along with the other kids. Because of this he spends a lot of time to himself-not always by choice. He’s very whiny and needy much of the time, and very often is in your personal space, clingy, and creepily affectionate. You have to regularly check his drawers because he is prone to steal the girls’ clothes. Many times he has run out of his room in nothing but girls’ panties or a miniskirt with tank top. The other night he called out for help while he was in the shower, and when you went to see what he needed he made very obviously seductive poses at you while touching himself.

How are you feeling about Terry so far? What assumptions are you making, assuming you know nothing besides the behavior you’ve seen from him? A pervert? Gross and creepy?

Screen goes black:

Terry is 11 years old. Social Services just took him from his mother due to reckless endangerment. He was found wandering the streets at 1 am, and when an officer took him home, no adult was present in the home, the home was filthy, and there were needles, foil, and other drug paraphernalia lying open all over the apartment. Terry has been primarily taking care of himself since he was 5 years old. He never knew his father, and his mother had mostly been gone at nights or sitting at home high. Mom often paid for her habit by selling her body, but as drugs degraded her appearance , many of the men were more interested in 5-year-old Terry than his mother. So this became Terry’s role as the “provider.” Terry had no friends because the other kids found him “weird” and even if he did make a friend, one time coming over to play with him scared them off.

How do you see Terry now?

Lukas

Lukas is 9 years old. He has recently been all over the local and national news. You see, Lukas has been charged with his little brother and sisters’ deaths. Lukas snuck into the bathroom when his 8-year-old sister was in the bath and held her head underwater until she drowned. He then went into his 6-year-old brother’s room and bashed his head repeatedly against the windowpane until he was dead. In school his teachers have been afraid of him for the past 2 years because of his violent outbursts. They’ve been afraid for themselves and for the other children.

How could a 9-year-old be so cold-blooded? Obviously this is a bad seed that nobody could have prevented from becoming a killer, right? Best thing to do would be to lock him up forever, because he’s beyond help.

New scene:

Lukas is 9 years old. At the age of 3, he and his younger brother and sister were taken from their parents due to suspicion of neglect and abuse. Over the next year all three were shuffled from foster home to foster home, sometimes together while other times separate from each other. His mom got them back the following year and moved to a different state where child services couldn’t hound her. She doted on little brother and sister, while Lukas became the focus of her rage. On a daily basis Lukas was beaten with extension cords, kitchen utensils, or whatever happened to be handy when his mother deemed something to be his fault. Before long, brother and sister caught on to idea that Lukas was the designated punching bag, so their standard response when confronted about anything was “Lukas did it,” or “Lukas MADE me,” which of course only made things worse for him. One day a social worker came to the house after one of Lukas’ teachers reported her suspicions that Lukas was being abused. That evening, after having told the right lies, and after his mom had done what she felt was a good charm job on the social worker, it was Lukas’ turn to pay. His mom gave him an extra hard beating and then made him take a hot salt water bath, then sit at home while she took little brother and sister to McDonald's for dinner. That was their last night.

Still judging Lukas?

We get sick of the old cliché about not judging someone until we’ve walked a mile in their shoes, but we miss the very point. We DON’T understand what’s going on under the surface of the evil things people do. It seems that anytime you suggest that it would be good to use some empathy and try to understand someone may be acting out of their own pain, someone immediately accuses you of trying to make excuses for them or justify their behavior. That’s simply not what we will do if we try to see the person instead of their actions. Instead we’ll be able to separate the person from the actions that we rightfully condemn, and yet be able to love and try to restore that person. 

God is not like us. He sees the pain that drives us to make evil choices. And He loves us regardless. It is His expressed desire to restore us with His love. As we are, we’re not capable of loving people like that, but our need is to accept that love for us, and then we will be able to be conduits of it toward others.

And Now For Our Guest Entertainer. . . David Hasselhoff!! (Just Kidding)

Working third shift, I don't get as much face time with the kids as I'd like sometimes.  Of course, I also have more neutral time to reflect on the kids' positive attributes than people on other shifts because I have longer interludes between getting called all sorts of names, hit, kicked, etc., by them.

So when I do see the kids I try to do what I can to encourage and affirm them.  Every kid needs to be encouraged in a different way.  Some are more visual, others, more audial, while still others more tactile--or any combination of other things.

There's one boy I work with who had the same name as another boy on the dorm when he arrived, so we mostly refer to him by his last name. And because his first initial and last name combined was the name of a particular animal, his nickname became that animal name.  He never seemed to mind much, but one night while bored I thought up a few lines using his name, beginning with "His name is (his last name), he's not a (his nickname), and then the last couple lines really represented one of his favorite activities.  So a few days later I was working an extra day shift on his dorm and sang this little jingle to him out of the blue.  He really got a kick out of that. I had no idea just how appropriate this was until I mentioned it to one of the day staff, who told me this boy really likes making up little songs like that, and said "next time you see him he'll probably make one up for you."  He hasn't yet, but I filed that information away for further use and I've made up a few rhymes for him since that have elicited his big, goofy grin.

I have another boy who occasionally wets the bed and so has to take a shower sometimes at night.  He's a chatty little guy and would stay up forever as long as I would listen and have a conversation with him. And so I make sure to chat with him for a few minutes, giving verbal encouragement when I can before sending him back to bed after giving him a hug or sometimes just a pat on the back.  I should mention that just because a kid is chatty at night doesn’t mean I will necessarily have a conversation with him, but this little guy always does well at accepting the limit when I decide our short chat is over. 

I had another boy a while back who would wake at least once almost every night and sit up in bed for a minute or two.  He'd usually wave at me, and I'd make sure to ask him how he was doing.  Most nights he'd have little to say before laying back down to sleep, but anytime he had good news or had been excited about an activity he'd participated in, he'd make sure to update me before laying down to sleep.  This brings to mind another boy from a while back.  I got used to seeing him look out his room door in the middle of the night, flash a big smile, and wave. All he needed was a smile and wave back.

Just recently I had two boys who were having birthdays. Since I knew both would probably still be asleep when I left, I left each a little note on his dresser just wishing them a happy birthday.  I stopped by the dorm a couple days later while on break from an overtime day shift on another dorm just so I could say hi to all the guys. The one boy thanked me for the birthday note, while I heard that the other boy (who was on home pass) enjoyed his note via his little roommate.

Recently I found a new, yet somewhat generic way to give the kids encouragement. On my shift I’m responsible for folding the kids’ clothes and putting them in their rooms. I also make sure to get new clothing marked with their names/initials when I know who the owner is, and refresh their names/initials on clothing where the ink is fading.  One night I was in a particularly fun mood and began adding things after their initials like  (initials) “is awesome” or (initials) “rocks. When I can think of encouraging things to make of their initials I do so, for example “J.M.= Just Magnificent.”  It’s fun for me and fun for them when they find what I’ve written.

I can't think of a greater joy than seeing a child's face when you give them encouragement. The kids I work with have gotten so many negative messages about themselves it's almost like they can't believe it when they receive the positive.

How To Get The Beatdown From Mr. Al

(In order to simplify things, I will give kids fictitious names rather than just describe them in each blog. I’ll keep the same names to identify them and link to other posts involving them, just to make things more interesting for you, the reader.)

If you’re a kid, you do NOT want to be a bully when I'm working on your dorm. Really, try it sometime, if you want to.  I promise it won’t end well for you.

“Elijah,” I’ll call him, and his friend—I’ll call him “Ronald” for this blog, sure found this out one day.

If you know me very well at all, you know that I’m usually pretty gentle, playful, and nurturing with the kids I work with. But with a bully I’m purposefully aggressive because, as everyone knows, that’s the only language a bully understands.

One morning I ended up working a day shift after having worked all night, thanks to several people calling off.  And I was NOT happy about it. So in addition to my normal intolerance for bullying, I was NOT having it at ALL that day.

The day was already going badly toward the beginning. All but a few of the boys were continually antagonizing each other and fighting.  And Ronald (the biggest and oldest)  in particular was bullying all the little kids. At least Elijah (who is actually somewhat small) will square off with anyone and everyone, including staff. But Ronald (who is taller than me by a couple inches) will only go after the little ones—except, of course, Elijah, who he knows can whip him.

It became particularly bad when the ringleader, Elijah, began leading the rest of the kids in running up on one particular kid (let’s call him “Arnold”), hitting him, and then running off before staff could catch them.  When staff began keeping “Arnold” close for his safety, they all began calling him a name making fun of his prominent physical feature. 

I really wanted to stop it, but my co-worker seemed to be throwing up her hands. “At least they’re just being verbal now.”  She also pointed out that the two ringleaders are used to getting away with everything and so what can we do?  That was not acceptable to me in the least. Verbal bullying is even more cruel and hurtful than physical.

I knew what I had to do.  Elijah was the major leader on the dorm, so I had to take him out.  But he’s also quick as a rabbit. Finally I was able to catch him unaware, and that’s when I lunged at him and caught him.  Escorting him to his room was brutal. For a scrawny 11-year-old he’s tough as nails. 

Once I got him to his room, I had to stand in his doorway and block him from coming out and going after his peers.  He pushed, lunged at me, and eventually began kicking and punching me, which made it necessary for me to restrain him. I still had bruises a week after trying to get that kid in a hold.

Meanwhile, with the other kids seeing me take Elijah out and dealing with him, the harassment of Arnold tapered off and stopped, as I knew it would.

After a while my co-worker came and offered to switch out hoping her prior relationship with him would help calm him down. It really wasn’t successful, but we eventually told him we would give him a chance to redeem himself by returning to the other kids, but if he stepped out of line once he would come right back to the room.

He began to go back to the couches, when suddenly my co-worker lunged and grabbed him again because she was sure she heard him cursing one of the kids out.  Elijah denied it, saying he was just asking the kid to move from his assigned seat. After she struggled with him for a bit, I suggested she go ask the other kid if Elijah was telling the truth. I then stayed with him.

My co-worker then told me it was up to me. “I still think I heard him say ‘fuck you’”   Apparently the other kid had verified his story.

I’ll never know if she did it on purpose or not, but the amazing effect of what my co-worker did was to transform herself into the “bad guy” and the target and me into the rescuer.  At that point I was able to assure Elijah that I didn’t hear him say anything bad to his peer and since it seemed his peer had verified his story I had no problem believing him.

Elijah and I stayed in his room a few more minutes. He didn’t want to talk, but he was willing to listen as I reminded him of how I had seen him be a positive leader in the past. And he did give minimal responses committing to try to be that positive leader for the rest of the day.  I then told him he could go back when he thought he was ready. Elijah, being the sensible young man he is, did take a few minutes to himself to calm down before he came out of his room.

I wish I could say Elijah kept his hands off the other kids the rest of the day, but there was one incident. Fortunately it was provoked instead of bullying and he stopped when I told him to. He did overall keep his commitment to be a positive leader.

As for Ronald, he didn’t get the message and I had to continue escorting him away from the smaller kids when he began bullying.  But at least most of the boys got the message that bullying was NOT going to keep going on when I was there.

By the end of the day I was exhausted, but with a sense of accomplishment.  And the next time I worked with Elijah, he was the responsible young man I’ve come to expect from him most of the time.

Poor Robbie Can't Sleep

(In order to simplify things, I will give kids fictitious names rather than just describe them in each blog. I’ll keep the same names to identify them and link to other posts involving them, just to make things more interesting for you, the reader.)

Sometimes my job just throws the most unlikely situations at me. I’ll walk in and it looks quiet and like the night is going to go without a hitch.  And then something flips it on its side, just like that.

So it was one night when I arrived to a quiet, fairly clean dorm.  Everything was shaping up to be a great and quiet night—and it was, except for one poor little guy. For the sake of this blog, I’ll call him “Robbie.”

Robbie had gotten woken up shortly after I arrived, and for a medical reason beyond his or my control, he could not get back to sleep. If you knew Robbie, you’d understand that he loves his sleep. Getting him out of bed in the morning is a chore in itself, and so I had no problem trusting that he wasn’t making any effort to stay up. Neither was I worried that he would become a behavior problem during the night.

And of course I was right.  Robbie lay in bed, clearly bored, tossing and turning, but clearly hoping for sleep to overtake him.  After a while I went into his room to encourage him. He was almost in tears. “I don’t think I’m ever gettin’ to sleep tonight.”  I stayed with him a couple minutes, patted him on the back and said “I think you’ll get there eventually, buddy.”

Occasionally while doing my room checks I would make up little rhymes with his name and recite them when I got to his door.  I just had to walk a few steps into his room and get a peek at his face to see his big, goofy grin. Robby gets a kick out of stuff like that.

I had figured out by this time what had happened to make him so wide awake and discussed it with him. He seemed to understand and it helped settle him a bit, but he was still not happy about still being awake.

In the middle of the night when I was getting ready to sweep and mop the floors, Robby came to his door and asked if he could help clean up. Looking back, I wish I would have let him, but instead I thanked him for offering but encouraged him to lay back down.  He complied, but it might have helped him feel better about still being awake.

Finally about 30 minutes before the end of my shift, little Robby finally drifted off to sleep. Over 7 hours of frustration with being tired but unable to sleep, and yet better behavior than I would have expected from most kids in a similar situation who DON’T require being in a locked facility. I was so proud of the little guy.

I was happy to see my relief was a staff member who would be understanding and help the kid out.  I bragged Robby up like crazy, told my relief the whole situation, and suggested they let him sleep pretty late and possibly do something special for him to reward his exemplary behavior in the situation.  Fortunately there was no school that day for in-service, which made that a possibility. We both agreed Robby certainly deserved as much.

A few days later I was working on another dorm and made a point to go greet the Robby and the other boys from his dorm. Robby made a point to tell me that staff let him know how proud I was of him that day, and clearly was proud of himself.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is one of the many things that make my job worth it.