Falling Down
“The best teachers teach from the. Heart, not from the book”.
—Author Unknown
Spanish Harlem is full of life on
summer nights, but this young lady wanted to die. The crowd of onlookers
pointed fingers at a teenage girl standing atop a fire escape rail, dangling
her body over the rusty rail and throwing pieces of jewelry to the street
below.
An elderly man told me that she was
loco and would probably jump. He shrugged his shoulders and walked away. I
raced up the wooden stairs of the old tenement building, hoping to quickly
locate the window leading to the distraught teenager. I found the open window
on the fifth floor.
I poked my head outside the window
and pleaded with the girl not to jump. A mouthful of clichés was all I could
offer. "You're too young to die. You're too beautiful. You have family and
friends that love you."
My words only contributed to her death wish—she released one
hand from the railing. I did not want to be the last face she saw before
jumping off the fire escape. And I did not want to see the look on her face as
she went free-falling to a dirty New York City street.
"I'm sick of all this shit and just want to fuckin'
die!" she screamed at me. She tore away a pair of earrings and threw them
at the growing crowd of spectators.
I was tired and unsure. My morning was spent in a college classroom,
far removed from this urban drama. I was studying to become a teacher and
learning about Howard Gardner's theory of multiple intelligences. Now I was
dressed in the uniform of an NYC police sergeant trying to persuade a teenager
that her life was worth living. My powers of persuasion were having the same
effect as Superman wearing a suit of kryptonite.
I squeezed through the small window and stood within a few
feet of the jumper. "Don't get any closer," she said. Suddenly my
clichés did not sound like trite words.
"I'm not going to get any closer to you...."
She jumped.
Call it luck or fate or divine intervention but I managed to
grab hold of one of her arms as she leapt from her wrought iron perch. Her
weight quickly pulled the top half of my body over the railing and 1 could feel
my feet lifting off the grated floor. Lord, give me strength echoed through my
mind. My partner reached out from inside the room and he grabbed the back of my
belt. I could feel her arm slipping away from my hold and told him to run
downstairs; he needed to be on the fire escape directly below us. Soon he was
staring up at us, trying to grab hold of a pair of swinging legs.
I was attending college because I wanted to become a teacher
and work with troubled teenagers, the types of young people roaming our streets
like so many broken toys. I wanted to save souls and was now losing a life.
Lord, please give me strength; I need only a few more
minutes of strength.
My partner managed to take hold of the girl's legs,
relieving some of the stress on my back and arms. I quickly tucked my hands
under her armpits and pulled her up. We each sat huffing and puffing on the old
fire escape.
Today. I got my wish to teach and mentor troubled teenagers.
My students suffer from depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder and psychosis.
Some are lonely, some are sad, some are angry, and some are frightened. But all
risk falling down unless we are there to catch them.
A few stories have fairy tale endings, but most just end.
The suicidal teenager was taken to a local hospital and I returned to patrol
the streets of Spanish Harlem. A few weeks later I saw her hanging out on a
street corner, laughing and listening to music with friends.
I sometimes see her face in the faces of the students that I
teach today. I got my wish to teach and mentor troubled teenagers. My students
suffer from depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder and psychosis. Some are
lonely, some are sad, some are angry, and some are frightened. But all risk
falling down unless we are there to catch them.
—Anthony J. Mullen
2009 National Teacher of the Year
2009 Connecticut
State Teacher of the Year Special Education teacher, grades 9-12
No comments:
Post a Comment