Poor

In textbooks, poverty has more than a dirt floor, if not electricity. In statistics, poverty doesn't laugh at the thought of Christmas presents. In newspapers, poverty doesn't go to school without a jacket in 5-degree weather.

I admonish my students each morning, gently chastising them for walking around in freezing temperatures with little more than a long-sleeved T-shirt. They say they're not cold, laughing at my over-concern as they huddle over the heater. They say they don't need jackets in the dead of winter. And I peck at them, half-jokingly, but know they probably can't afford them.

I remember learning a lifetime ago in one of my government classes that poverty can be relative-- if you only have the very rich to compare to, indeed a middle-class fool may consider him/herself poor. I remember feeling oh-so-dejected in 7th grade because I didn't have a pair of faded brown Doc Martens. Compared to my Potomac brethren, I was poor. I didn't have $150 shoes when I was 13.

But here, it's not uncommon to not have electricity or heat. Nearly everyone wears practically the same thing to school everyday. I recognize the smell of wood-stoves and propane in my kids' clothes. Everyone gets free breakfast and lunch. Almost everyone is poor. And sometimes that makes poverty seem almost OK.

But my kids remind me that it's not. They may not be able to read poverty indexes or the latest news from the U.S. Department of Human Health and Services. But they can tell me that they hate Christmas and stopped believing in Santa long ago, because Santa never went to their house. They can beg for second helpings of lumpy and dry school lunch, because they know they won't get dinner at home.

Or they can be like one of my students and call me straight out: When he needed to move up to the board to read a question, I reminded him that he needed glasses. He said he didn't like wearing glasses and wanted to get contacts. Absent-mindedly, I told him, "So get some contacts!" He just dead-panned me and said, "Well maybe you can afford it, but I can't."

Today I have a $150 pair of designer Coach heels sitting in my closet-- beautiful and unworn. I would have worn them in a previous lifetime, traipsing down the streets of Georgetown, readying for a 6-course French dinner and a night at the bars. But I can't now, partly because I don't think Gallup offers any multi-course French meals. But also because I just can't seem to justify shoes that cost the exact amount of money that a family needs to fix their truck so that they can get to work.

As a teacher in a rural region, I've become less idealistic. You can't save everyone. I can't let myself feel guilty about splurging on a vacation to Jamaica. I can't buy everyone coats. I teach my students that they endure time with me in the classroom so that they'll always be able to afford heat and food when they grow up. In too many ways, they're much wiser than I was at their age or even today. I haven't figured out how to reconcile accepting poverty and doing something about it.

Poorness is dirty and everywhere in the world. The work of those close to me revolve around the hungry, sick and stricken in third-world countries. But to me, my work is heartbreaking too. Because we're still the greatest country in the world. And because middle schoolers should not have to beg for more nasty school lunch.

Comments

[Phil Nash]

You have found out a dirty little secret. Many in the United States are poor. Most of the world is poor. The United States uses far more than its share of resources and is living on a credit line extended mostly by Asian countries. When the credit line is cut, our economy is in for a big hit, and many of us will be poor.

I remember seeing materially poor people in Haiti years ago. The lack of nice clothes and material objects is, unfortunately, sometimes equated with a lack of intelligence or moral authority (I'm sure you've heard the refrain "if you are so smart, why aren't you rich?"). This is not to say that the poor should be idealized as being "above materialism," as no one WANTS to be poor. But you are seeing that poor people, like rich people and the ever-decreasing pool of "middle class" people, are extremely diverse and complex.

Your job as a teacher is not only to bring these kids the skills they need to survive but also the hope and confidence they need to make their way in a world where they might not feel empowered and accepted. It's a tall order, but I am sure you are up to the task.

Don't try to enjoy the holidays with guilt, but don't try to enjoy them without remembering these kids and their world, either.

Keep yourself strong so that you can continue to be there for the kids.

[freelance writing]

that is funny)