I work at an elementary school part time supervising children. I love my job and being around those kids. Having been a witness kid and having been raised in an alcohol crazed environment, I have a soft spot for those little ones who are the victims of adult irresponsibility and heartbreaking circumstances. Unfortunately, too many of the kids at my school carry burdens that any adult would struggle to cope.
Then, there is Billy*, eight years old. A very bright, sweet, and articulate little boy who is desperate for love and acceptance. He also has a mischievous streak that sometimes gets him in hot water with me for an infraction of some silly (in his eyes) rule. Other times, he wants to be my "helper" which mainly entails following me around while I referee various kid disagreements, game rule infractions, and breaking up posse's of 10 year old boys looking for trouble. Recess, and our parting, generally ends with a hug and a marriage proposal. Last term, he told excitedly "My Mom is coming to see me this Saturday!" "She is? That's great!" I would respond. I didn't need to ask, too many kids like him at this place. For whatever reason, he began to explain that he lives with his foster Mom and brother. Matter of factly, he tells me his "real" Mom used to beat and not feed him. Yet, he is still giddy at the prospect of having a visit with her. Remembering my own childhood, I can understand. Being an adult woman with children, I can't.
Billy is a Jehovah's Witness.
How I found out was when he was goofing off during the time, in the morning, when the whole school stands together and does the flag salute. I walked over and in an elevated whisper tell him to stand straight and be respectful! "But I'm a Jehovah's Witness and we don't salute the flag!" he said. "Fine," I said, "however, YOU WILL stand quietly until the salute is done, understand?" His barely audible "yes" indicated that he did. I was probably a bit more stern than I would have been otherwise because of my JW background.
Another time Billy tells me that his foster Mom takes him to the Kingdom hall (he never mentions a foster Dad). I nod and don't say anything. The last thing this kid needs to hear my diatribe about the WTS and what it did to my family. His Mom never did show up to visit him and lost her parental rights. I never ask, he just tells me. But, he's happy because his foster Mom is going to adopt him!
All I can do is let out my breath. I'm happy? I'm sorry?
I'm ambivalent to say the least.
"I'm glad you are being taken care of, Billy".
Then today he comes up to me and gently pokes me on the arm to get my attention, "Mrs. XXX, would you like a Watchtower Magazine about persecution?" "What?" I respond (thinking to myself, "did I hear that right?") He repeats the question. I answer "Billy, school is not the appropriate place to distribute religious material as I eyed the folded Watchtower in his front pocket [I wanted to say "propaganda" but refrained). "O K" he says dejectedly. I guess he had better get used to it because there is going to be mostly rejection of his magazines.
I suppose in his mind he had my best interest at heart because from his perspective I'm to perish at the big A and he was only trying to save my life. And, this life has dealt him a difficult hand, paradise must sound awfully good. The soothing salve to heal all wounds.
Life is good/sucks sometimes.