Falling through the cracks

As I gather information on a student for an upcoming assignment, I tumble into deep sorrow for her. She has been in and out of foster care four years now. She hasn’t attended the same school two years in a row. She has been tested for special education services twice, yet she scores too low and flat to qualify. She is, has been, falling through the education cracks for quite a while now.

And I feel so guilty, that I am so much part of the problem because it is almost February and I am just now beginning to figure it all out with her. Granted, she did not become my student until early November, so I can cut myself some slack. But that’s not the point at all.

How can this little girl, who looks mature and acts tough, be saved when she is like sand sifting through families, schools and teachers? When I look at the information and testing data stored in her manilla file and point out what I see to the right people in charge of such matters, they shake their heads and cluck in agreement that the poor child is in a sorrowful place. It feels like she has been relegated to biding her time.

And I know that there are countless others out there like her.

It reminds me of this song by Peter Himmelman

Disposable Child
Hey have you seen the disposable child
With sunken cheeks and belly distended
Hey have you seen the disposable child
Exempted from grace and left undefended
Born into a world that's so defiled
Well now don't shed a tear,
he's just a disposable child

Hey have you heard the disposable child
One whose heart should be fillin' with wonder
Hey have you heard the disposable child
Who spends his youth dodging bullets and thunder
Don't waste your time
with this soul who's never smiled
Now don't shed a tear, he's just a disposable child

Hey do you know the disposable child
Born into suffering, forced into hiding
Hey do you know the disposable child
It seems your agenda and his are colliding
Asking only for love but feeling so reviled
Now don't shed a tear,
he's just a disposable child

To whom can you turn my disposable child
When heaven and earth have left you forsaken
To whom can you turn my disposable child
When words of neglect
leave you tattered and shaken
Where the refuse of humanity is piled
They don't shed a tear if
you're just a disposable child

Well, I guess my little girl's situation isn't really as downtrodden and dire as Himmelman's disposable child, for she does have a roof over her head and she's no longer living in whatever trecherous conditions she was before entering the social services system. But I do feel bad for her and wonder if in my fifty minutes a day I can make enough difference to feel clean again.