Kids shouldn't have to live like this.../ Tariq Pt. 2
Since our initial clash of wills, Tariq and I have gotten along just fine during tae kwon do practice. He's calm and respectful with the sensei, although he will only work with me as his senpai, he gets along with the other kids, he does what we ask him to. He's really been enjoying it, and every now and then I'll get a random call from him: "Hey! Hey senpai. D'you know how to do long division?" Or "Senpai! What's another word for beautiful that isn't...beautiful?"
Today, when I got there, the sensei threw me his car keys and asked me could I go pick Tariq up; he'd missed the bus, but called because he wanted to practice. I said that was fine, but when I turned to go he caught me by the shoulder and said, "You know, it's sort of..." And then shrugged. "Don't look surprised," he finally said, and let me go.
...the kid lives in an absolute hellhole.
It's a one-bedroom apartment that he shares with apparently his mother, father, and two fucking huge Dobermans. The dogs have literally just defecated all over the place, no one's cleaned it up; there's old food spoiled and laying out on the counters; cockroaches; old underwear laying in the floor. No one was home when I got there but Tariq, sitting on his bed/couch and finishing his homework with his little uniform folded neatly beside him. He said, "Hey, senpai!" and the fact that he wasn't absolutely mortified a stranger was seeing this, that he wasn't absolutely embarrassed, broke my heart because it means he's used to living like this.
He does his homework by himself; he stays home by himself. No one tells him to brush his teeth or take a shower, two things I did after I'd gotten there. And instead of taking him to practice, I talked to sensei briefly and then told him practice had been cancelled because of the holidays, and I took him out to a late breakfast instead. He wolfed food like he hadn't eaten for days, and told me most days his parents are "too tired to cook," so he lives pretty much on oatmeal, pudding, and crackers. He used to eat peanut butter on the crackers, but "little white worms" are living in the jar now.
Afterwards, I took him shopping, and got him all the decent non-perishable food I could think of and stuffed it into a Christmas bag, telling him it was a gift from the program (I figured at least that way he'd have a reason for it, if his parents asked). And he was pretty calm and quiet the whole time, talking about school, his friends, how he's gotten in trouble a few times for fighting but is "doing better now."
Before I dropped him off - and it made my skin crawl to return him to that - he handed me a little folded sheet of paper, on which was a glitter-encrusted painting of a Christmas tree. He said he made it for me. I thanked him, and he beamed, and he went back to that little apartment lugging all his bags.
I called CPS and the sensei as soon as I got home. Apparently it's harder to get them out there if he's not being 'abused' (i.e. physically or sexually). But I'll keep calling. Because no kid, no kid ever, should have to live like that.
Today, when I got there, the sensei threw me his car keys and asked me could I go pick Tariq up; he'd missed the bus, but called because he wanted to practice. I said that was fine, but when I turned to go he caught me by the shoulder and said, "You know, it's sort of..." And then shrugged. "Don't look surprised," he finally said, and let me go.
...the kid lives in an absolute hellhole.
It's a one-bedroom apartment that he shares with apparently his mother, father, and two fucking huge Dobermans. The dogs have literally just defecated all over the place, no one's cleaned it up; there's old food spoiled and laying out on the counters; cockroaches; old underwear laying in the floor. No one was home when I got there but Tariq, sitting on his bed/couch and finishing his homework with his little uniform folded neatly beside him. He said, "Hey, senpai!" and the fact that he wasn't absolutely mortified a stranger was seeing this, that he wasn't absolutely embarrassed, broke my heart because it means he's used to living like this.
He does his homework by himself; he stays home by himself. No one tells him to brush his teeth or take a shower, two things I did after I'd gotten there. And instead of taking him to practice, I talked to sensei briefly and then told him practice had been cancelled because of the holidays, and I took him out to a late breakfast instead. He wolfed food like he hadn't eaten for days, and told me most days his parents are "too tired to cook," so he lives pretty much on oatmeal, pudding, and crackers. He used to eat peanut butter on the crackers, but "little white worms" are living in the jar now.
Afterwards, I took him shopping, and got him all the decent non-perishable food I could think of and stuffed it into a Christmas bag, telling him it was a gift from the program (I figured at least that way he'd have a reason for it, if his parents asked). And he was pretty calm and quiet the whole time, talking about school, his friends, how he's gotten in trouble a few times for fighting but is "doing better now."
Before I dropped him off - and it made my skin crawl to return him to that - he handed me a little folded sheet of paper, on which was a glitter-encrusted painting of a Christmas tree. He said he made it for me. I thanked him, and he beamed, and he went back to that little apartment lugging all his bags.
I called CPS and the sensei as soon as I got home. Apparently it's harder to get them out there if he's not being 'abused' (i.e. physically or sexually). But I'll keep calling. Because no kid, no kid ever, should have to live like that.