In my 17 year career as a teacher, I've taught well over a thousand kids. When you've taught that many students, it's honestly hard to remember all of their names and faces. And when they leave 6th grade, as you all know, they have a tendency to change in appearance...just a bit. I try to remember their names once they exit my 6th grade hall and venture on to new experiences as older and wiser kiddos, but sometimes it's just not possible. I do remember many though. One in particular, I'll never forget.
Russell was 12 (or maybe 11) when he entered our 6th grade English and reading class. I could tell automatically that he was going to be a challenge, but after a few weeks of having him in class, it was a challenge my friend Beverly and I were up for. We knew he was smart from the beginning, and we reminded him about this constantly. It got to the point where we decided to put him into our Pre-AP honors English and reading class. I think he was excited. Excited about being in an honor's class? I'm not sure, but excited that two teachers knew he was smart enough to do the work and deserved to be there. Russell, like many of our other students, lived in an area where students are bussed to our school from a Section 8 housing complex. An area known by everyone in our district as a place the cops don't even venture into unassisted. A single mom and no father present in his life, Russell was up against many obstacles from the beginning. Beverly and I believed in him, and encouraged him daily to make the best of his life. When he left 6th grade, we continued that encouragement. As my friend Barbara says though, "When you're a 6th grader, your teachers aren't all that important to you."
Russell continued on in school and continued getting in trouble. When he was in the 8th grade, I remember seeing him sitting in the office with his head hanging low. He had gotten in trouble, and I guess was waiting to see what his punishment would be. I told him that he knew where I was if he needed to talk. He told me, "okay," and that was it. 8th grade came and went, and we no longer knew what he was doing or where he was. Beverly and I thought about him often and wondered if he was okay. It turns out he wasn't. The next time we saw him was his mug shot on the news.
As we soon learned, Russell was involved in a drug deal with five other boys that was actually a set up for retaliation against a guy who had broken into one of the boy's apartment. Another young man happened to ride along with the boy they were seeking retaliation against, and sadly, he ended up getting shot and killed. Russell pulled a gun and killed an innocent 19 year old. Russell was 15 years old. I would never condone what he did, because he had no right to do such an awful thing, but throughout the case, I couldn't help but to go back to one thing: He was 15 years old! Just a kid who I believe wholeheartedly, simply couldn't escape his environment. I know that doesn't make what he did an easier to accept, and my heart deeply goes out to the victim's family. I know many of you will view Russell as an evil, evil person, but Beverly and I don't. We see him as a kid whose environment was more powerful than he was. We kept up with Russell throughout the case and even talked to a reporter on several occassions. The last we heard Russell was tried as an adult at the age of 15 and reached a plea to serve 24 years in prison.
Three years passed, and I still wondered how he was. After weighing on my heart for several weeks, I decided to find him. The last we heard he was still in Fort Worth, but I know that prisoners get sent to various prisons through the course of time, so I doubted he was still here. I went online and found his new location; a prison in northeast Texas. I decided to write him a short letter reminding him who I was and letting him know that Beverly (Mrs. Barfield) and I think of him often and wonder, even under the circumstances, how he is. One week later, I received a reply.
I'll share that with you next time...
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