Memphis (Week 2)

During the week, I saw Memphis' older brother.

I remember the first and second and third day Memphis asked me if I knew him. "You know my brother? He taught me how to fight."

I'd seen him a few times and had greeted him happily when I recognized him, seeing how his troubled little brother was in my class.

There's a look that's on Memphis' face at all times that's kind of like a smirk. Not a happy smirk, though. I couldn't put my finger on it till I'd discussed it with my mom. We both know about fatherless little boys. How many problems they seem to have.

What I see is anger.

For now, he's compliant, and rebells by clowning in front of his classmates. They laugh at his rude jokes, antics, and rough background, all while keeping a respectful distance.

He likes his jeans to sag low. He likes T.I and Eminem. His favorite food is gizzards. Apparently he only lives with Grandma and his older brother. He can appear quiet and compliant but sometimes its really only on the surface. Sometimes he seems more dedicated to mischeif than anything else.

To put it simply, I'm worried about him. His suspension is for suggesting to another kid to bring a pocket knife to school and start a gang. A gang.

Because when the people who are supposed to look out for you abandon you, when you have no real security, a gang is what you look for. Before, I had never really gotten beyond brief conversations with him. But I have a lot of words for him now. Words that he really needs to consider to choose the direction of his life.

Not having parents, not having a father is such a painful thing. Anger and confusion is there. But when I see him goofing off in class, something in me goes, please don't waste your life. Your life is too important and special--- to important to God if not your parents--- for you to just end up in jail or in a gang. If you don't have a father I know it hurts. I know. But don't grow up a victim of circumstances. I need you to grow up and become the father you had wish you'd had yourself. It's not as easy as that. But society need YOU Memphis, not some other, more stable child. You know more things than I can ever know. You can reach kids that I can't. Out there somewhere there's something you're interested in that doesn't involve beating people up. And when you find it, you can use that to help people who've gone through the same things as you. But you have a choice. You can be angry at society all of your life and turn to drugs and gangs.  Or you can choose to not waste your time here. This is a good school. Out of everyone, you should be the one striving to get the most out of it. not goofing around. Please listen. Please don't make a dumb choice. This is really important.
I can only do so much. I'm only a girl. He needs guidance. He needs postive males around him. If only, if only I could give him that. But I can't so far. But I know he needs someone in his life to speak these words, to know that he is loved and believed him, and that his life is important regardless of any family members that have failed him.

God please give me the empathy to understand the pain he's going through.

Solomon might have the same problem.

I'll tell him that and leave the rest up to God, because now many people at The Sanctuary know his name, and that he lives in the area. I'm also emailing the main social worker who works in my mom's office building.

Anyway, back to the guy I saw lying on the floor.

"Are you alright?" I wondered. He looked up. He was in pain but then a familiar smirk came across his face when he looked at me.
"No."
It was Memphis' brother. His friends were all laughing and I quickly picked up that he had just been kneed in the groin. He let out a colorful string of curses at them as he sat up. His friends, all urban and jocular against the wall seemed almost embarrassed for him. They murmured and shuffled as if I were some administrator, probably wondering what I was about.

I must have seemed calm. I was screaming in disbelief on the inside.

"Get up for a minute. How's Memphis?"
"Memphis?" he asked, still in obvious pain. "He's suspended."
"I know that. How is he?"
"Good." he let out a long sigh, cursing again. I left him.

It was... discouraging. This was Memphis' male role model? This is who he depended on and looked up to? I wanted to go back and smack him. Just shake him and say, "You have to get up off the floor and act like a man!! Now. For Memphis' sake."

I remembered how one day during P.E , Memphis had tripped himself on purpose, so blatant in making himself the butt of the for attention. I could see where some of the foolishness had come from. I still was hopeful about how I could help Memphis, but I had this sense of "are you serious right now?" and I shared with other Cadets. 

But then I realized that older brother, unimpressed as I was also probably didn't have such a great home life. And he had had no older brother. He was probably doing the best he can. Maybe I had just caught him at a bad moment.

It was completely unfair to write him off. Who knows what he's been through or whether there's something in him that justifies Memphis' reverence for him. Once again, Grace comes in to keep me in check.

But the mission to help Memphis continues.

I watched my brother grow up with a painful childhood. his biological father had died when he was a toddler. and little me, who had everything, didn't understand.

As for Memphis' older brother, we are currently Facebook friends. Miss Q still has many words for Memphis even though she, who has everything, couldn't possibly hope to understand.

For now I have to wait until his suspension is over.