Page 53 of Jagger
“I need to take care of something while you all work on the letter C, so Mrs. Pruitt is going to get you started. Cut out your letter carefully, and then you’ll be matching up pictures that start with the letter.” I smiled at them, and they started reaching for the safety scissors in the bins in the middle of each worktable.
“Anna, could you come help me for a moment?” I asked, giving her an encouraging smile. She looked down at her desk, then nodded and slowly rose from her seat to follow me out into the hallway. I stepped a few feet away from the door, so that we wouldn’t disturb the class.
“Anna, sweetie, I can see that you’re upset. Can you tell me what’s wrong?” I asked, bending at the knees so that I was eye-level with the little girl who was doing her best not to cry. She shook her head sadly and looked down at the floor, refusing to meet my gaze.
“Ms. Carol said that you didn’t eat your lunch today. Didn’t you like the sandwich?” There was no answer, so I tried again.
“I thought you liked peanut butter and jelly. That’s what you usually bring, right?” Still no answer.
I sighed, hating that I couldn’t get through to her. She was always so closed off, and today was even worse. I didn’t think she was just being obstinate. My gut was telling me something else was going on, but I wasn’t sure what.
“Are you upset that you forgot your lunchbox today?”
“I didn’t forget it,” she finally answered, whispering so softly that I had to strain to hear her. “She was mad ‘cause we were late so she threw it on the ground and stomped on it and told me I would hafta’ go hungry again today.”
My heart sank at her words. I took a deep breath to calm myself and then gently questioned her, although it was clear who the culprit was.
“Who did that, sweetie?” She stiffened and didn’t answer, and the way she started shaking when she realized what she’d revealed just about broke my heart. I watched as she wrapped her thin arms around her waist, hugging herself in an attempt to self-soothe. My breath caught as the action caused the sleeves of her T-shirt to rise up a bit, revealing several fingertip-sized bruises on each upper arm. I exhaled shakily and tried to keep my voice calm.
“That’s OK. You don’t have to tell me right now if you don’t want to. I have an idea though. Why don’t we take a walk and see if we can find some place where we can sit down and get a little more comfortable? My knees are going to be stuck like this if I keep bending down this way,” I joked, trying to put her at ease. I knew if I tried to comfort her right now, or made a big deal out of her statement, it would only make things worse, especially in the middle of a hallway where another student could see or hear what was going on.
I stood up and held out my hand, silently urging her to take it, to give me some sign that she trusted me. After a moment or two, she slowly slipped her hand in mine, and I had to blink rapidly to stop the tears that were welling in my eyes. Thank God she was still refusing to look anywhere but at the floor, because I didn’t want her to see me so upset.
We slowly walked to the office, and I kept up a quiet string of chatter to try to put her at ease, explaining that Mrs. Pulaski had a really comfy couch in her office, and even some squishy bean bag chairs that I was sure she would let us sit in if we wanted to.
We entered the front office, and Darla, the school secretary greeted us with her usual friendly smile, which faded as she saw the look on my face. I tipped my head toward Anna and leaned over the counter to quietly ask Darla to have Michelle meet us in Amanda’s office and find someone to help the resource aide cover my class. Darla’s eyes fell on Anna for a moment, then glanced up at me with a concerned expression.
“Of course. Amanda doesn’t have anyone in with her right now, so go on back. I’ll get Michelle.”
I carefully put my arm around Anna’s shoulder and led her down the hall, knocking on the door frame of Amanda’s office to alert her to our presence. She looked up and started to smile before registering my expression.
“Anna, why don’t you pick which place you’d like to sit. I need to talk to Mrs. Pulaski for just a minute, and then I’ll be right back.” I guided her into the room and gestured to the colorful seating Amanda had in there, all designed to appeal to kids. “Pick a spot that you want me to sit in, too, OK?”
She slowly nodded, still without meeting my gaze, and walked over toward the beanbag chairs in the corner as Amanda and I stepped out of the room. We walked a few feet away from the door and were met by Michelle as she rounded the corner from her office.
“What’s wrong? Darla said you looked like you were ready to cry,” she asked quietly. Michelle was an excellent principal and was fierce as a mama bear if she thought something was wrong with one of “her kiddos”, or her teachers.
I kept my voice low as I filled them in on Anna’s words and my suspicions of probable abuse, neglect, and food deprivation. Michelle went back to her office to get the ball rolling with the Department of Child Services, as required by Indiana’s mandated reporting law. Amanda and I turned back toward her office, and I asked Anna where she would like me to sit. She pointed to a bean bag chair next to the one she was standing in front of, and I actually got her to giggle a little when I made a production out of clumsily flopping down into the low, squishy chair.
“Are you going to sit in this one?” I asked, pointing to the bright pink beanbag next to mine, and she nodded shyly as she stepped closer to it. She stumbled as she did so, and bumped up against Amanda’s desk, crying out and jerking her body upright in obvious pain. Her reaction seemed a little extreme, given the fact that she had barely hit the edge of the desk.
“Oh, sweetie, are you OK?” I asked, sitting up and reaching out to steady her. She whimpered and nodded, again refusing to look anywhere other than the floor. “Did you bump your back or your side? Can I take a look, to see if you need an icepack from the nurse’s office?” She didn’t say anything for several long moments, and the alarm bells that had been ringing in my head since I’d read that hateful email from her mother that morning started clanging louder than ever.
“Anna, I need to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself on the desk. Could you lift the back of your shirt up just a little bit for me?” I asked gently, willing my voice not to shake as I tried to control my emotions. I glanced up to find Amanda staring intently at Anna, concern etched on every line of her face.
Anna finally nodded ever-so-slightly, and winced as she reached behind her to lift the hem of her shirt up a few inches. A rush of hot bile rose in my throat at the sight of the angry red welts and dark purple bruising on her back, none of which could have possibly been caused by bumping against the desk. My eyes shot to Amanda’s, to find her staring at Anna’s back with the same horrified expression that I was sure was on my face.
I cleared my throat so I could actually speak. “OK, sweetie, you can put your shirt down for now. I think we need to have the nurse get you an icepack. I’m going to run down the hall to her office to see if she’s in, OK? You just stay here with Mrs. Pulaski for a quick minute.”
I forced myself to walk calmly from the room, and only made it a few steps down the hall before I felt my knees get weak. I sagged against the wall and drew in a ragged breath before releasing it with a shudder. I walked into Michelle’s office, to find that she was still on the phone with DCS. I sank down into one of the chairs in front of her desk and whispered to her to put them on hold for a moment. She looked at me sharply, then did as I requested.
“Anna has welts and bruises all across her lower back. I’m not sure how bad it is. We need the resource officer and a caseworker here now. She needs medical attention.”
Two hours later, Anna was taken into the care of the DCS caseworker and was being escorted to the hospital to get checked out. Anna had become nearly hysterical at the sight of Malik Robinson in his uniform. He was the police officer assigned to the resource team for the elementary schools in our district and could have passed for the twin brother of the late actor Michael Clarke Duncan. He was admittedly an imposing sight, especially in uniform. Malik usually provided anti-drug and stranger-danger presentations and helped encourage the children to view police officers in a positive and helpful light. He also provided security when needed, since we did have the occasion angry parent or custody dispute on school property. He, along with the caseworker, had asked that I sit in on their interview with Anna, to help keep her calm. Michelle stayed as well, to represent the school. I was grateful for her calming presence as Anna sobbed and clung to my hand while they spoke with her.
Susan, the school nurse, and the female caseworker had lifted Anna’s shirt higher, and I’d barely restrained my horrified gasp as I saw how extensive the bruising and raised welts across her lower back were. There were even marks that Malik said were likely from the belt buckle, which had actually torn into her skin a bit. She had bruises in various stages of healing on her back and upper arms, ranging in color from purple to yellowish-green. The bruises on her upper arms were clearly from adult hands holding her or shaking her, and the welts across her lower back extended down past the waistband of her pants.
Anna tearfully confirmed that her mother had held her down while her stepfather had whipped her with his belt over the weekend. She said the belt had also been used on her bottom and the backs of her legs. From the limited answers the officers were able to get out of her, this was not the first time this had happened. It sounded like both her mother and stepfather were using drugs at the house, too, because she mentioned that they fell asleep after they“used their needles with their special medicine.”
