Gasoline

I have to step back for a story.  With all the great memories that I experienced this week, I remembered an incident that happened in my second year of teaching elementary physical education.  First, you will need a little background.  Whitney Young was a brand new building that was built in an area that was known for crime although I didn't experience anything close to a crime personally in the three years that I was there.

That doesn't mean that there weren't times when there were indications of the criminal element.  When we were still in the old Smart building, there was always a car outside the door near the gym at the end of the school day.  Kids would run to the driver's side as soon as they saw the car.  Each would stay a while and leave with a hand full of candy.  They called the man in the car "Uncle", but we all knew that he wasn't related to any of them.  Even as naive as I was then, I knew that this guy had to be up to no good.  The word we got was that this Uncle was cultivating his future pimps, prostitutes, and drug dealers, as well as customers for those businesses.

From time to time, we noticed a student who wasn't acting normally.  Invariably, upon investigation we found that they child had been told that a certain substance would make them "feel good."  What we usually discovered as well was that whatever the child had tried, wasn't even purchased.  It was given to them.  And that is what happened that day in my second year.

It was my first class of the day.  Students that came to the gym did so after attendance was taken and any information that needed to be presented was completed.  Because no student ever started right away with me, I stationed myself outside the gym door, helping students who might be wandering.  Then, I liked to greet them as they entered the gym.

That day I was doing exactly that.  As usual they each gave me a big smile as they entered.  But I remember one who looked troubled.  He was a new student, so I really didn't have a way to read him yet.  I noted that I would keep track of him while the lesson was unfolding.  It was a parachute day.  The kids loved the parachute and all the things that we could do with it working together.

I had placed a kickball in the parachute and explained the game that we were going to play.  The game had started when I became aware of one section of the parachute that was almost limp.  Not only had the new boy dropped his section, but so had those around him.  They were holding their noses and backing away completely.  I had a signal to place the parachute on the floor and gave that instruction to the class and hurried to the new boy.

I honestly don't know how I could have missed that smell when he entered the room.  It was that smell that caused the students to scatter.  When I got to the boy, he was laying on the floor holding his stomach.  Immediately, I chose a student to go to the office to get the principal and the nurse. I asked the boy what I knew as an obvious question, "Is that gasoline that I am smelling?"  He meekly said, "yes."

His classroom teacher was the first to arrive.  She gathered her students up and took them back to the classroom.  I stayed at the boy's side.  Mrs. Adams arrived with the nurse.  I quickly told them what I knew.  It was decided that because Lutheran Hospital was a straight shot down Pontiac, we wouldn't wait for an ambulance ( no EMS in 1972).  I volunteered to drive him while Mrs. Adams and the nurse tried to reach a family member.

I don't remember much about the drive to the hospital, but I do remember going in the ER.  The boy was snatched up quickly, and I was asked if I knew when the parent would arrive.  Of course, I had no idea, so I told the nurse that I would stay until someone arrived.  After asking the boy a couple of questions, the doctor decided that they couldn't wait for a parent, so they pumped his stomach.

Mother did arrive.  She had been asleep.  She was the sole provider for the family and couldn't get a job except third shift.  The boy and his two younger siblings were in the house alone most nights because she couldn't afford to have anyone with them.  The only time she saw them was after school.

So the boy was on his own going to school.  He told the story about the older boys that he was "hanging with."  They took care of him.  They got him food; kept bullies away from him.  They told him how to get high.  They told him gasoline would do it.  He didn't know their names, and, as far as I know, they were never caught.

The boy lived through the incident.  Because I don't remember his name, I don't know what happened to him later in life.  What I do know is that incident reminded me throughout my career that we, as educators, have only a brief amount of time with our students.  We need to be the positive influence that they need.  Not because parents aren't doing their job; most want to, but circumstances pull them away.  I hope he came out of it okay.  I wish that I could say that this was the only experience like this that I have had over the years.