The Twins

There are many moments in a teacher's career where a moment involving a student touches all of the emotions possible.  Some of these moments linger and have an ending.  Many are in the back of the mind, but there is no closure ever.

The twins came into my life on a fall day.  They were second graders and about as cute as any students that I have ever taught.  I remember their deep, round, brown eyes that looked right through me.  They were not in the same second grade classes, so I hadn't connected them as brother and sister.  And the tragedy for me  is that although I remember the story and their faces, for the life of me, I cannot remember their names.  I hope that any of my Whitney Young readers can help me after I relate the story.

I discovered that they were related one very cool November morning.  I was entering the building early in the morning as I started to do when I realized that I couldn't get much planning done when I headed off to coach in the afternoon.  So, often, I was the third person in the building behind the secretary, the custodian, and a kindergarten teacher whom I swear lived in the school.  For some reason that day I scanned the outside of the building near the front door.  There is a walled in area near the door that is a little recessed.  Huddled together in this area were the twins.

I went to them and asked them why they were at school so early.  It was the little girl who spoke after a quick glance at her brother, "We like to be together."  My immediate thought was that it was great to see siblings who were so close, but  I also realized that her response didn't answer the question that I had asked.  So I rephrased my question, "It is awfully cold out here, and the school won't open for an hour.  Couldn't you just stay home and be together?"

Neither of them responded right away.  It was like they were trying to figure out if I could be trusted.  Actually, they didn't trust me.  They didn't trust anyone.  I eventually got the story out of them after I took them out of the cold and into the gym, but it wasn't that day.  In fact, it took a couple of weeks before they trusted me enough.  I was an adult, and adults had let them down their whole lives.

They had spent most of their lives in foster homes.  I don't think that they didn't even knew the names of their parents.  What was heartbreaking to me though was that most often, they were placed in different homes.  So my question was answered - school was the place that the twins could be together.

What I offered them from that point until they were moved to another foster home and a different school was a warm place to have a morning together.  They would come in and have a great time talking about their lives and helping me set up for the day.

The reason this story truly lingers in my memory is what  I learned just before they left our school.  I found out that the little boy had Sickle Cell Anemia.  I remembered a student at Manchester who had been diagnosed and knew that this little boy did not have much of a future to look forward to.

This is one of my memories that has an ending.  While reading the newspaper years later, I read about a young man who had held off the police with a gun and was killed after he discharged the gun.  The story included the detail of his sister pleading with the police to understand that he had not been the same after the Sickle Cell started to affect his brain.

The story ended there.  She had stayed with him.  Her story went on, but I have nothing because I don't remember their names.