Night Of The Living Brat 2: Juan and Ronald

A while ago I started this Night of The Living Brat series to depict rough situations I encountered on third shift with the kids. I can't promise it will continue long as I had only a couple written before leaving that particular job.  I'm actually returning to third shift at my new job this week, so who knows.  But here is the second installment for your reading pleasure. 

 

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.

I had no idea what I was walking into one Tuesday night when I arrived at work.  As I came down the hill I saw a head pop up in one of the windows indicating at least one of my kids was awake. I wasn’t concerned because based on which room it had come from I assumed it was a particular kid who I was used to seeing awake and having no trouble with.

When I arrived on the dorm I found out that some kids had moved to our dorm and that the kid I saw was one of them, a boy I’ll call Ronald. (More about “Ronald” in my earlier post, How To Get The Beatdown FromMr. Al)

Ronald was now roommate to Juan(featured in my first installment of Night of the Living Brat), who had been on the dorm for quite a while.  I was actually used to seeing Juan awake at the beginning of my shift, but he is normally not a problem.  And as for Ronald, when I had worked weekend nights on his old dorm I had gotten used to him being awake in his room at night without a problem. However, put two nightowl 11-year-olds in a room together and you’ll never get them to sleep.

Had it been a weekend night, I wouldn’t have been concerned about these two, but as they needed to be up for school in the morning they were going to need to settle down and sleep at some point.

From ten until eleven, I prompted them a few times to keep it down. As it approached closer to eleven it became apparent that these two would need to be separated if sleep was ever to come. So at eleven I told them I was going to need to have one of them come and bring their mattress out into the common area. I was going to ask Juan to do so because I was confident I could trust him to sleep out there without a problem. But Ronald volunteered. I was skeptical but decided to give him a chance.

Once Ronald brought his mattress out, he proceeded to refuse to follow any directions and became more loud and disruptive.  After a while he decided he wasn’t going to sleep out in the common area and went back to his room, refusing to come out. He also refused to bring his mattress back in. So Juan, who had been making a sincere effort to stay quiet and settle down for the past half hour, volunteered. Since Ronald wouldn’t go get his mattress, Juan said he would just sleep on Ronald’s mattress and Ronald could use his.

Ronald was not satisfied and kept running out to mess with Juan.  He tried to keep Juan from lying down and getting to bed, and was even trying to take the mattress back. At this point I paged my supervisor because Ronald was trying to start a fight and was beginning to wake up other residents. When Ronald lunged at Juan again, I got to him first and had to manhandle him to escort him back to his room (both Ronald and Juan-both only 11-tower over me by more than an inch).

I did get Ronald to his room and he was trying to push past me to come out. When my supervisor arrived I was still trying to keep Ronald in the room. Seeing two staff that were clearly on the same page about what he needed to do, Ronald finally gave in and stayed in his room.

As for Juan, I made sure to do everything I could to make sure conditions were ideal for him to get to sleep. And when he awoke in the middle of the night to use the restroom I helped him move his mattress back to his bed. Gotta appreciate the kids who show leadership among the others.

So, Just What Have You Been Saying, Al?

I work with children who are clearly broken. I doubt anyone would look down on them for their unhealthy reactions to the things they have been through. In truth, all of us are broken to one degree or another and react in unhealthy ways to our traumas. What we don't usually think about is that the people we judge and look down upon are also very broken, sometimes in more devastating ways than we could ever imagine.




We probably will never see what is below the surface of those people we look down upon and write off as not worthy of love. Oh, I know some people reading this are thinking "Oh, I don't judge anyone. I don't think I'm better than anyone." Let's be honest, though. We all do to an extent at times. It's human nature, and understandable when we look at the outside. Some people are just not very endearing or simply do reprehensible things.

Fortunately, God does not look at man in regard to the surface or our actions. He knows us inside and out. He sees the traumas and the pain behind our very worst actions. He understands more than we could ever know about ourselves, let alone those people we judge and write off as beyond love. He loves them just as much as He loves each one of us who feel we are the "worthy" ones. Our carnal perspective keeps us from understanding how unconditional His love is. We see people as worthy or unworthy of love (whether we admit it or not), good or bad, evil or divine. God sees all of us as His.




God has gone to great lengths to redeem our brokenness in ways that may or may not manifest within our lifetimes. He became one of us to take our sins, our death, and our brokenness--indeed our very humanity--upon Himself. He took it all and died with it, then resurrected us with Him as a new humanity. This is the gospel. His work is finished, whether we believe it or not. Those of us who believe benefit greatly from knowing what He has done, while those who do not know or believe cannot benefit despite it being just as true for them.

Because I have come to a different perspective of the gospel, the traditional Christianese often just doesn't work for me. When people hear me state things such as the previous paragraph, it's not uncommon for them to say "Are you saying everyone is saved?" or "Are you saying there's no Hell, or nobody's going to Hell?" I lose patience with these questions sometimes, but they're reasonable from the vocabulary of mainstream Christianity. I have to ask "What do you mean by 'saved'" or "What do you mean by 'Hell?'" Another question I'm often asked is "If God has already reconciled everybody to himself, why bother to preach the gospel?" Again, frustrating, but reasonable from the mainstream perspective.

This is why we spread the gospel--to tell the world that their sin, death, and brokenness has been redeemed by the Creator of the Universe. Some may never believe, or even be hostile and reject the very Truth, but that makes it no less true for them. It will only cause them great misery. Those are things that are objective facts, but cannot be experienced by us until we actually believe them. I work with kids who truly believe they are bad kids, or unloveable. As a result, they cannot receive praise easily for good behavior, or believe our care for them is sincere. They simply have believed lies about themselves they have been told repeatedly. The same goes for us as humanity. Until we fully come to believe we belong to God and that we have been raised to a new humanity through His resurrection, we will live as if we are slaves to sin. None of it is true, but it's very REAL to us because of the lies we have believed about ourselves.

Now about Hell. Some have accepted Dante's vision as if it's a part of the canon of scripture, despite scant scriptural evidence of that. Others simply believe Hell is eternal separation from God. I've come to believe something different. First, I believe it's completely impossible to be separated from God, who is omnipresent. Scripture also repeatedly tells us He will never leave or forsake us, and that we cannot be separated from His love. So, I've come to believe Hell is a self-imposed state experienced by those who refuse to believe or are actively hostile to the truth I've stated above and to God's all-encompassing love. I believe God will be showering His love on those miserable ones for eternity just as He will shower it on those of us who come to believe. It's just that to those who embrace it, it will be all joy, while to those who reject it, it will be all torment. Not imposed by God, but experienced by those who hate and reject His love. Will all of those eventually be won over by His love? I cannot know, but I certainly hope so.

So, are all saved? I guess if you mean forgiven, reconciled, and resurrected to new life in Christ, then yes. If you mean do all respond and accept that truth, thereby living in freedom, then certainly not. But don't think for a second that those people are any less loved, forgiven, reconciled, and alive than those of us who believe (and few of us, including myself, have fully come to believe the full truth, though we may be on the journey to having it become real to us). Let us forget the repeated lies we have been told and open our hearts to the truth of His gospel.

Not Abandoned

Hey folks.

I haven't blogged here in quite a while. So much has happened since I did. My Dad has been experiencing some health problems, so a few months back I decided to move back to the Cincinnati area to be closer to my parents.

I came out here in June to seek work in my field and had three interviews on that trip. The day after I returned to Kansas City, I received a job offer which I accepted after a few days of consideration. And then on July 8, in the wee hours of the morning, I drove out of Kansas City on my journey here to northern Kentucky.

I've now been on my new job for two weeks, and I feel so much that I fit in very well. I have a cottage with 6 wonderful boys who I've grown very fond of. Our current group is so much easier than the kids I've been working with, but that can change with the next admission. Nothing is certain in this field.

So I am hoping to reconvene regular postings soon. I do have some posts in reserve I can use, and some others that are in the process of being written. Just be patient with me, as you have. I'll be very grateful.

Night Of The Living Brat-The Pilot

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.

One of the hazards of working at night is that I work alone on a dorm, and it’s great as long as nothing bad happens, but occasionally kids decide to act out.  My response can determine whether it ends quickly or chaos ensues.

Several months ago, when I began working on the particular dorm I usually work, it seemed like almost every night a couple kids would be lying in wait to cause chaos. Second shift would walk out for the night, and within minutes two kids would pop out of their rooms, teaming up and trying to get the rest of the kids awake to join them.  I had to take swift and drastic measures to stop the ringleader in his tracks consistently for about a month before the boys learned they weren’t going to get away with it on my shift. Oh, they kept it up with the guy who works the rest of the week, but my nights became relatively calm.

Of course it couldn’t last forever.  Now a new cast of characters have begun trying to start the same kind of cycle. This will be the first in a series I’ll present under the heading, “Night Of The Living Brat.”

Jimmy ,Josiah, and Juan

I’m used to seeing either Jimmy or Juan awake when I arrive on shift, and normally neither are a problem. Usually Juan will be quiet in his room until he finally drifts off to sleep.  Jimmy, who I’ve mentioned in past posts, can be hyper and a smartass, but is normally pretty easy to handle when there are no other kids up.  However, this night, add a third to the mix and boil.

Josiah and Jimmy were roommates. Normally staff separates them at bedtime until one is asleep because they feed off of each other's behavior and keep each other awake.  When I arrived, both Jimmy and Josiah were in their room awake, and both seemed hyper.  It only got worse when the previous shift staff left. They both began getting louder, and after I had prompted them a few times I asked Josiah to bring his mattress out and sleep in the common area at least until Jimmy went to sleep.

Josiah was compliant, but was also continuing to encourage Jimmy, who was being even more silly and loud. Jimmy came out to use the restroom, and around the same time Juan came out of his room and asked to use the restroom.  When they came out of their respective restrooms for paper towel after washing their hands, Jimmy was being silly and began to shake his hands off. Unfortunately, Juan was too close and Jimmy splashed some unrinsed soap into his eyes.

After the initial shock, and after recovering from the sting, Juan ran after Jimmy and tackled him. I pulled him off the much smaller boy and escorted him back to his room. I told all three boys that unless they stopped and settled down right then they would spend the equivalent time they acted up sitting out from activities in the morning.  None of the three responded immediately and continued escalating.

It was around this time that a 2^nd shift staff from the adjoining dorm came over to see if I needed some assistance before he left.  He proceeded to give his opinion on what I should do with Jimmy (who was the most extreme).  I told him I was handling it and he could go. But the damage had been done. He had only succeeded in taking Jimmy from being merely hyper and mischievous to angry and openly defiant-which was exactly why I just wanted that staff to leave. 

Meanwhile, Juan had settled down and was staying in his room, and Josiah continued laughing at Jimmy’s behavior.  Fortunately, reality hit him when I told him how much time he already owed me in the morning and suggested he not  continue to accrue time.  

This left Jimmy, who was now yelling very sexually inappropriate things, and me, who was simply frustrated at this time-with him, but mostly with my co-worker.  Now I was the one who proceeded to escalate the situation, making smartass retorts to Jimmy’s remarks.

I checked in once more with Juan and Josiah, who were now both cooperative, and then I went into Jimmy’s room.  I put my hands on both of his shoulders, turned him toward me so I could speak directly to him, and very firmly told him “That’s enough. You’re done for the night.” Surprisingly, that stopped him. I then apologized for my own unkind and disrespectful comments I made to him when I was frustrated a few minutes before. I told him that I had been frustrated, but that there was no excuse for me acting like that. Jimmy in turn apologized as well and accepted what his consequences were.

I could have really made that situation much worse. Fortunately I was able to recognize my own mistakes and own up to him. All in all it turned into a good teachable moment, and though I wish I had handled it better, I’m glad for how it ended up.

Heartless Bastard Gets What He Asks For

 (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.)

I suppose I asked for it.

I had been  feeling progressively worse throughout the night, working on getting stuff done in my apartment on my nights off. I'd gotten my batch cooking done for the week, but really hadn't felt up to cleaning the kitchen. And then I absolutely HAD to go to the laundromat as I had waited too long last week and of course the laundromat was closed Christmas day.

So it was with great effort that I dragged myself and my huge load down to my car and then to the laundromat.  As I was feeling so bad, I found a seat away from everyone and was just trying to get through it all.  As I was waiting for my second load to finish, it happened as I had feared. In a flash I was over the trash can losing the contents of my stomach. Some kind, concerned people offered help and I was brought something to clean my face off. I felt a bit better afterward, but I still had to get my clothes dried before I could go home. I went and sat out in my car as it seemed sitting in a cooler environment was helping.

The following 24 hours are a misery I'd rather not relive.

But like I said, I suppose I asked for it.

Saturday night I arrived to work to find "Opie" sitting on the floor and staff was taking his temperature.  I found out Opie had thrown up a little before this.  I was further informed that all 5 boys were feeling sick as well. After having his temperature taken, Opie just stayed laid out on the floor, not wanting to get up.  I told him he should go lay in his bed since he was sick. It was then that he revealed he wasn't going to his bed because that's where he had thrown up. So I said "why didn't you say so?" and proceeded to go clean his bed and get him fresh bedding. 

When I was finished, Opie was appreciative but had to go throw up in the bathroom again. Before returning to his bed he was complaining how he just felt like dying. Heartless bastard that I was being, I made my standard joke about "dying is not allowed my my shift. Too much paperwork."  Opie has a habit of being overly dramatic, and so perhaps that may explain a bit of my insensitivity, but still I imagine he just felt like I was being flippant about his suffering.

No sooner had I gotten Opie squared away but "Carter" got up and asked to shower because he had messed himself. He got to the bathroom before I was able to bring him a towel, and it wasn't until I brought him a towel that I realized he hadn't wet himself but had suffered diarrhea.  Poor little dude.  I suppose I was feeling a little more compassionate by this time, seeing more suffering. 

So an hour into my shift I was finally done helping two of our sick kids get all cleaned up and back to bed.

Throughout the night I had a chance to interact with the other three, "Billy," who was feeling all better, "Bart," who had to get up several times and was looking like death warmed over, and finally "Vlad," who woke up screaming from a terrible nightmare and then was telling me how bad his stomach felt.

You'd better believe, after experiencing what my little guys at work had been going through I will be personally apologizing to each (especially Opie) for my lack of sensitivity.

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.