Ireland, revisited

Not the country. A family name that sent cold chills down my spine earlier in the school year. A second generation I've been dreading....

The worst year of my career was 1990-91. It was my second year in Pleasanton, and I was sent to work at the Jr. High with emotionally disturbed kids. (Most kids in Jr. High ARE emotionally disturbed anyway, but this group was certified!) One of the boys' last name was Ireland. Throughout the year, he gave me grief and drove me to want to quit almost every day. I gave up on him, and I've thought of him several times over the years, wondering....

When school started, I got not one of his sons, but 3. Yep. 3 little stair-steps. I almost cried with visions of that year running amok in my brain. One is a 1st grader at Primary, the other 2 are 3rd graders. (One failed) So. how is it going 4 weeks into the year?

I have to confess that I truly LIKE these boys. They must have their mother's temperment, except for the middle one. He is just like I remember his father, except he isn't evil. It's like I'm seeing him in a time-warp; before the bad stuff that warped him got ahold of his soul. He wants SO badly to please me, to do well, not to embarrass himself. I've made a pact to him and to myself, that this year, he will read. Maybe never grade-level, but he will function if I have any say in the matter. Then, he won't have to act silly or be a bully to divert his lack of skills from his peers. I'm not going to quit on this little man, because I want redemption for the lack of effort I put in to understanding and caring for his father. This is a second chance for me, and I will give it my all.

And in seeing my care for him, the others will learn to care as well.