| Some Good Page 4 Very much like Melissa was Cheryl, a light skinned Latina who came to Prescott in the fall. She was prone to stretches of moping and fatalism, with a couple of days here and there of good moods and even a smile. She was also 14 and also hoping for adoption. There were no adults in Cheryl�s life, but there was a younger sibling, a nine-year-old brother who was in a different residential program. There was one day when Cheryl was off grounds and the next day she showed me a drawing of a house and a rainbow and told me that she got it from her little brother. Cheryl usually did her work in English class, but there were times when she gave up and sighed�and I remember the sigh as what made her reaction different from Melissa�s. Where Melissa would seem to have no anger or concern that she was getting a zero on a quiz or failing for the quarter, Cheryl would let out a deep sigh, often accompanied by an almost inaudible �oh well,� as if to say, �My whole life is one big failure, so what else should I expect?� I would try to counteract those sighs with some positive words, but that never seemed to have any effect. Jayna�s moods were much more outwardly expressed than Cheryl. Jayna was more often in a good mood, with a big smile and an energetic laugh. And when she was down there were often tears and sometimes tantrums. I felt that some of Jayna�s bad days were caused by staff picking on her unnecessarily, or pushing too hard when a few words were all that was necessary. I tried to say something to make her laugh once in a while. After lunch one afternoon in late February, Jayna asked me if she could go upstairs to get a sweatshirt. When I first started at Prescott, I would defer to other staff members virtually every request that the girls sent my way. I knew that there were various house rules, but I didn�t feel as though I knew any of them, so I�d say, �Ask Gina� or �Ask Doug.� It took time for me to get more comfortable and to understand that, in many instances, the basic rule is to use my own judgment and common sense. In the colder months the house was usually pretty warm, but could sometimes be chilly. On this particular afternoon the main floor was cool and so, when Jayna asked about the sweatshirt, I said yes and accompanied her up to the second floor, where I waited on the landing as she went into her room. Moments later, when Cheryl appeared at the foot of the stairs and asked me the same thing, I didn�t think anything of it. �Sure,� I said, and she also went to her room. It wasn�t until a short while later that I realized I had been used unknowingly in the girls� plot. Not long after getting the sweatshirts, in the midst of the commotion of kitchen clean up, Jayna and Cheryl had run off. I felt like a dunce for not suspecting anything, but the staff people I mentioned it to laughed and said not to worry about it. �It happens,� one of them said. �If they want to run, they are going to run.� The daily kitchen clean up after lunch was one of the most stressful times of day for me. The girls, who had to clean the kitchen and dining room every day after every meal (as well as clean the entire house every evening), were not, to say the least, very enthusiastic about any of it. At lunch the teachers had to assign the chores and monitor the cleaning, and there was always plenty grumbling among the students. There were three sinks in the kitchen, one industrial stove, and one huge refrigerator. There were also some cabinets, a long counter, shelves, a microwave, a toaster and a couple of garbage pails. The kitchen not being very big, when you added a pair of teachers and half a dozen girls washing and drying dishes, wiping counters and the stovetop, and sweeping the floor�and when they perform these tasks carelessly and without much thought (because they do them every day)�you tend to have people bumping into each other, splashing some sink water here and there, dropping and spilling things. The result was constant arguing. The teachers in the kitchen had to keep the arguments to a minimum and to move the cleaning along. Oftentimes shouting broke out between girls, and, of course, students attempting to avoid assisting in the clean up was an every day affair. On one occasion there seemed to be an extra dose of tension in the house. A girl named Kanika had been sullen that afternoon. Usually when she was like that it was because things weren�t going well with her mother. Kanika�s mom said different things to her daughter from one day to the next and this led the girl on a roller coaster ride of emotions. I remember seeing Kanika�s mom at the little report card ceremony we ended each quarter with and the woman clapped and cheered when her daughter did a dance routine as part of the �talent show� that the students liked to do afterwards. Kanika was smiling broadly the whole time her mother was there. Now she was quiet and angry. I�m not sure what her mother had said, but she might have cancelled a scheduled visit or even told Kanika that she�d decided to give up custody of her daughter to the state. Well, at one point a teacher asked Kanika to do a kitchen chore and the girl declined to do it. She was told again and she walked out of the kitchen. Apparently, another teacher had told Kanika that she would be receiving consequences for not doing the chore. I did not see this part because I was in the kitchen, but I did witness Kanika�s reaction. I was standing in the middle of the kitchen when I heard a door slam violently. I turned and saw that it was the door of the kitchen closet, which holds brooms and some cleaning supplies. As I turned, Kanika stormed passed me. I started to reprimand her for slamming the door, but she had already stepped past me and, with the back of her left hand, swung and knocked several bowls and containers off the counter. I said, �Kanika!� and began to move toward her, but she had already taken two steps forward and picked up the strainer, filled with utensils and dishes and cups, that was to her right. She lifted it with both hands and tossed it behind her. |