Camp Marshfield Spring Session Opens

So it's warm today and all the kids were out. I got home around 5:30 and was talking on the front steps with Dawn when the Bradys brought over their new pet chickens. Wow! They're not baby chicks--they're about two months old now--but they are still small enough to fit in two hands. We think they have two roosters and a hen. They showed me how if you hold them in your hands a few feet above the ground and kinda push them, they'll fly, or at least flap their wings as they fall to the ground. They eat rice and bread and "pretty much anything," Ines told me. One of Ines's cousins ran home to get a piece of chocolate cupcake to show me how they eat. We let them loose in my front yard to see if they could peck up any worms.

Four Bradys and three young chickens in my front yard drew a crowd. First Sarah and her niece, then Junior and his little brother, then the gaggle of girls who are related to Mr. Worrisome and Jay-Z. The gaggle was scared of the chickens at first, but then they got brave and wanted to hold them. One of them pooped on the jacket sleeve of my least favorite girl in the gaggle (she usually acts very bossy and wants to be waited on hand and foot). The other girls laughed at her and she started to cry, so I went in the house to get some wet soapy paper towel to clean off her jacket. They had been asking whether they could color, and I felt sorry enough for Little Missy that once she was clean I went back in the house and brought out some crayons and construction paper for them.

The Brady Girls took their chickens home, but the Brady boys stayed, plus Junior, his brother, Picasso, Joey and a few others. They were playing basketball out back on the parking pad while the girls colored out front. I went out back to watch the basketball.

Junior's brother was just watching, too, so we hung out. When they took a break I asked if they wanted some water, and they said yes. I brought out a pitcher but had to scrounge up plastic glasses because I'm out of disposable cups (even though I try to wash them out and re-use them at least a couple of times).

"I'd rather hang out with you guys that those girls out front," I told them during water break. "They drive me crazy." The guys laughed. They told me Littlest Brady and Joey's little brother (who are both about 3 now, I think) had been holding hands out back. The older boys were making fun of them.

"Oh, come on, give the little guys a break," I said. "When they're three, it's cute--when they're your age, not so much," I teased, punching Picasso in the arm. They were all laughing.

Although I did go check on the girls and their coloring project a few times, I pretty much left them to their own devices. When they were done, they were prepared to leave and leave everything--construction paper, Twix wrappers, crayons, glue sticks--all over my front step. I wasn't so into that. I came out and started picking up, then called over to where they were on the sidewalk and said, "So, who's going to help me clean up?"

The two oldest girls in that group are pretty responsible, so they brought everybody back. I gave them some plastic bags: one for trash and the rest for those who wanted to take their pictures home. I repeated what I told them all along: they could use up all the construction paper and take it home, but I wanted the crayons back so they could draw another day. (I did hold a couple boxes back in the house.) Good thing I kept some back--the next time I came back the steps were bare. There was one white crayon left.

Lesson learned: If I want the crayons back, I'll have to supervise cleanup more closely.

5200 S. Wolcott Report

Today was a nice day--the sign on Park Federal said it was 65 degrees late this afternoon--so I decided it was a good day to take that stroll over to 5200 Wolcott and check out the scene. As our commenter reported, there are quite a few vacant lots over there. It was pretty quiet when I walked the block--there was a hoop on the east side of the street, but no one was playing ball. Over on Honore a bunch of little kids were shooting at a hoop, and older kids were playing in the street south of 51st on Wood.

The most striking feature of the south end of the 5200 block of South Wolcott is the giant vacant lot on the west corner. It's full of trash. There are more vacant lots everywhere south of 51st than north of, but there's a whole new house going up at the south end of 5100 S. Wolcott, so that was nice to see happening.

I saw maybe half a dozen people--three teenage girls and a younger boy--plus some older guys on the east side of the street --but everything was quiet and I felt perfectly safe.

On the way over, the block that really impressed me was the 5200 block of South Honore. They have a block club street sign at the north end of the block, an older Latino guy was picking up trash at the corner, and an African American man and woman (not sure if they were a couple or just neighbors--I kinda thought just neighbors) were chatting on the sidewalk and made the effort to greet me. That's where the little kids were taking turns shooting at a hoop--boys and girls, which doesn't always happen when it's basketball.

I talked with the guy picking up trash for a couple of minutes. "This is a really nice block here," I said.

"We try," he told me. "I've been here 30 years."

I told him I lived over on Marshfield. He asked how long I've been here.

"It'll be five years this summer," I said. I could see he was pleased and surprised.

Anyway, driving through the Wolcott block in broad daylight didn't seem like it would be any problem to me. But if I wanted to talk to people, I'd probably go over to Honore and see if any grownups outside seemed friendly.

Good Cop, Bad Cop

Just as I was walking home from the bus stop this afternoon, I passed Peter Pan's house and Middle Brady Boy was yelling something in a voice I'd never heard from him--loud, authoritative, even menacing.

I slowed down as I got to Peter Pan's front steps, where two other boys were on the ground as Middle Brady looked down at them. "Whoa, (Middle Brady), what's that all about?" I asked, genuinely curious.

He looked up and said eagerly, in his usual boyish tones, "We're playing cops and robbers. I'm the cop."

"And they're the robbers?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. You have a great cop voice. Have fun!"

Then I passed the Brady house, where one of the Brady Girls had given me a big wave when I first turned on the block. She and her dad were with her cousin, Brady Bughunter, who was making them laugh while he tried to open a bottle of Gatorade. His uncle finally got it open for him.

I got to my own front steps just as that friend of Joey's I don't like (the guy who sneaks in and out of windows) came around the corner with a friend. Sneaker was walking, his buddy, with a purple-tinged mohawk, was riding a bicycle. Since they seemed harmless in the moment, I carried on and went to open my front door.

Just as I got the door open, I heard Bob the Builder hollering at Sneaker, "Hey, come here! I'm talking to you, punkhead!" Bob and I have a deal--he's the cop-calling, tough-talking bad cop to my "let me find you a program or something better to do" good cop. He seemed to have it down, so I went on into the house.

Big Picture High School Fundraiser March 27

Big Picture is holding a series of events this spring, with the goal of raising $10,000 in scholarship money for its last graduating class.

The kickoff event will be held March 27, 9 p.m. to midnight, at Soiree, 2438 N. Lincoln. For $35, you get a wristband that entitles you to appetizers and a premium open bar featuring Grey Goose, Ketel One and Bacardi. A portion of the wristband proceeds will go to the Big Picture scholarship fund.

A Taste of Spring in the Hood

It's a bit warmer today, and Picasso, Joey and Oldest Brady Boy are playing basketball out on my parking pad. Joey's hoop is rigged up from his yard next door in such a way that they can shoot at it from the parking pad. I hear the "thump, thump, thump" of the ball and their voices as I'm typing.

Picasso and Joey bumped into me on the street about an hour ago and asked what was going on with the Su Casa mural project. I called over there but we had to leave a message.

Meanwhile, the graffiti wars rage on over by the viaduct at 49th and Marshfield. Some big black tagging happened recently; I could see it from a block away. Frankly I didn't have the energy to call 311, so I turned the corner and walked west on 50th for a while instead. I'll probably call tomorrow. The traffic circle looks terrible, too. There's beer cans and plastic bags all over it, and I didn't have the energy to pick them up.

There's a lot going on right now in my personal life that is taking a great deal of energy, so I don't have a lot left to give to the neighborhood or to this blog right now. In another month or so I may be ready to post more regularly. Thanks for your patience.

Ditching School

Back on Wednesday I was walking north on Ashland Avenue around noontime, if memory serves. As I was passing the laundromat by 48th Joey and a buddy of his came strolling my way from the opposite direction. "They should be in school," was my first thought. The buddy of his, who is already in high school, is someone the neighbors gossip about. They've seen him coming out of the window from the house across the street from his--sneaking out in the early morning before his girlfriend's mom finds out he was sleeping with her. He seems like he has potential but I didn't meet him early enough in my time here to make friends before he got too old to listen to somebody like me. I wish Joey didn't hang out with him, although I'll take him over the creepy way-older teenager up on the next block.

As they got within talking distance, I said, "Hi, you guys." I'm pretty sure I didn't quite keep "you're busted" out of my voice, though I was halfway trying not to do that. Joey's buddy looked sheepish; Joey didn't even seem to register it. That really worried me.

That night when I got home, I was unlocking the front door when Joey called out my name from his porch. He had heard from Picasso about the possible art project at Su Casa and wanted to know more. "Like, what do they want us to draw?"

"I don't know. Something that connects to the neighborhood and is positive. You could do graffiti style or something with cartoon characters, maybe." He nodded.

"Weren't you supposed to be in school today?" I asked.

"Yeah, but my friend was in trouble, so I was helping him."

I wasn't listening enough, so I didn't get more of the story. Honestly, it was cold and I was tired and I just wanted to go inside. "Are you going tomorrow?"

"Yeah," he said with more enthusiasm than I expected. "I have to do a rap on Friday so I have to get ready tomorrow."

"Oh, good," I said, and went in.

Art Project

The folks at Su Casa called me up on Sunday looking for some neighborhood kids to help them design and paint a mural on their soup kitchen wall. I called Picasso to put him and Joey on the project. We'll see if they come through. Hope it works out.

UIC Basketball

Sorry this post is so late--tech problems last week intervened. Yes, Junior, his brother, Picasso, Joey and I joined Su Casa in a trip to see UIC play Youngstown State at the Pavilion last Saturday.

Bad news: UIC lost. Good news: the guys liked the game, the Jesse White Tumblers at halftime (they were amazing), and the cheerleaders. Yes, they are teenage boys. I laughed.

The really good news came after the game ended. When they dropped us off, Joey's mom wasn't back from work yet, so he came to my house and hung out for a while. He was surfing the Internet when he said, "I'd like to take another art class. Not like the one I did before (at Marwen), but something else."

"There's some in Pilsen you might like," I said. I had the flyer for Pros Arts Studios--they had class registration in January. He looked at the classes and thought he might like them. "I was going to tell Picasso, too. I thought you guys could maybe go together."

"Yeah," he said.

I was just thanking God he's still interested in doing something like that. I've been afraid he was totally lost to the streets. They have something called open studios--I hope that means you don't have to register. I'll try to remember to call them up and see when Joey and Picasso could go.

Romance on the Sidewalk

When I came out the door this afternoon to look for the Brady Girls, the first thing I saw was Joey escorting a young lady down the sidewalk. Back last spring he had a little girlfriend, but he was kind of shy and just walked next to her. He walked her home and then came back to his house.

Now that he's all of 12, he's getting bolder and maybe more jaded. (I'm not sure if this is the same girl or a new one.) They got to his gate and he kissed her. Then they chatted a little longer and she went on down the block by herself. I think he invited her in and she said no.

Job Hunting

This afternoon I took a break around 2, when Chavez dismisses, to respond to a very cute message I got from a couple of the Brady Girls. They are having a Valentine's Day party and want to make cookies again to serve at their soiree. I'm not sure if the timing will work but I hope to talk with them soon about it. I went outside and Ines's mom was watching for her kids, but Ines had gone to the library so I missed her.

Meanwhile, Peter Pan's mom was out watching for her kids to come home, too. About half an hour later she and her husband showed up at my doorstep. He's out of work and was wondering if I had any job-hunting ideas. I asked him what kind of work he does and he said, "Warehouse." That's not the kind of work I know or get job notices for much.

I asked if he had tried Instituto del Progreso Latino at 46th and Wood. He said he'd been there once and they said they would call him but he never heard back. He also said there's a rumor that office may be closing. I know some folks who work at their main branch on Blue Island, so I gave him their names, the address and phone number. I hope it helps. Times are tough and I was very concerned to hear he's been out of work for a couple of months. I think they've owned their house for a long time, like 10 years, so hopefully their mortgage is manageable, at least for a little while longer.

How Oldest Brady Boy Saved Peter Pan

Here's the story, in Peter Pan's own words from his first essay draft [with a little copy-editing by me, but less than the application version got]:


This friend has been real close to me. [Oldest Brady Boy] is his name. He's athletic-focused and makes me laugh. He will do things for friends or will help you or tell you what's right. He gives advice on what to do in that circumstance. One thing he has helped me in is how to do things right, like telling me this is wrong, this is right. [He'll ask:] "What are you going to get involved in if you do these kinds of things? What is this going to lead you to in the end?"

He has made me a good person. He's always together with me. All the time we go places and play soccer, a good athletic sport where we can meet other kids at the park or in our own neighborhood. He helped me stop hanging with some people I don't need to be with, who are falling in a bad step now. [He helps me think about] what kind of friend should I hang with, what step are they on, if they are good. Who is going to give you good footsteps to accomplish what you want to be in life?

This friend has showed me a lot of things and has changed me in many ways. He is almost more than a friend [because of] how we look out for each other and changed one another on what to do right in life.

Perhaps readers remember that years ago I predicted Peter Pan would either be a real force for good on the block or the block's leading gangbanger. I'm pretty sure his friendship with Oldest Brady Boy pulled him away from the circle that Joey is falling into. They used to be pretty tight for a while, and I think that's who he meant by "people I don't need to be with." He's spot on, but it's breaking my heart that Joey's the problem on the block. I feel like he's slipped beyond me now.

Last Minute High School Applications

Well, Peter Pan and his brother showed up this afternoon looking for last-minute help with their Noble Network high school applications. They said they both already applied to Perspective Math & Science Academy, where their sister is going. Three 150-word essays each, and they hadn't started a thing before they got here around 4 this afternoon.

Peter Pan has some potential as a writer--he got one and a half of his first drafts done before I had to throw them out around 4:30 to go to a meeting. His brother has a lot more trouble writing, and his writing is a lot more trouble to understand. He kept using the word "above" when he meant "about," which took me a little while to figure out. He didn't even finish one draft before I had to go. I made them promise to keep working on it while I was gone and then we'd work together when I got back.

I got home about eight and they were here until 10:30. The brother still wasn't finished--he's got to rewrite one of them because he got off topic--but he's pretty close and there are 150 words in his draft (even if they are poorly spelled and incoherent).

The Nobles insist that kids hand-write their essays on the application form, which I suppose is to deter parents or others from writing them for them. It's not too hard to get around that, though, if the kids are willing to copy. I will freely admit I have the kid write a first draft, then if time permits said kid revises it, then I write a nice copy with all the words spelled correctly and correct punctuation, which the kid then copies on to the application. Now usually they make some mistakes copying, so there are still errors in the final product, but it probably isn't a totally representative sample of their work, either.

Tonight I went further down the path of deception, I'm afraid, especially with Peter Pan's brother, who was struggling to come up with 150 words for these essays. He did write two drafts for all his essays, but the second drafts were to get more words and to make them more coherent, not at all for mechanics. I still had to revise his second drafts to make them understandable to someone other than the author. I don't know what the final versions will look like, because he didn't have time to copy the clean versions I put together from his drafts before 10:30. Now he's on his own. Whew. I thank and pity his future English teachers.

In better news, Peter Pan himself wrote pretty good essays that didn't take nearly as much copy editing. I'm going to do another post to give you an excerpt of the rough draft of one of them, which is about how being friends with Oldest Brady Boy has changed his life, maybe even saved it. I knew Oldest Brady was good for him, but now I know he is a real unsung neighborhood hero. Read on above.

Chocolate Chip Cookies

When I was a kid, one of my favorite things to do on a winter Sunday was make chocolate chip cookies in the kitchen with my mom while the Eagles game played on the TV in the den. Probably in honor of that, when I ran into three of the Brady girls coming home from the library on Friday afternoon, I invited them over to make cookies on Sunday. "If it's not too cold," I said.

"What time?" they asked.

"How 'bout around three?" So we agreed.

I guess 14 degrees was warm enough for them, because a little before three I heard a voice calling me from outside. (I never did get my doorbell fixed, and that's fine. It was so loud it would make me jump out of my skin. Now people have to work to get my attention, and I'm not giving myself a giant cortisol hit every time someone comes to visit.)

Three of the Bradys from the all-girl side of the family came. Their cousin Ines wanted to come but her family was going to see her brothers play soccer, so she went, too.

We cleared off the kitchen table and got to work. I softened the butter in the microwave to make it easier to cream with the sugar. That's always the longest part. The girls took turns and I only gave it a few whacks near the end to make sure the butter wasn't streaking and there weren't too many hard specks of brown sugar. The oldest Brady of the bunch was having fun searching them out and pounding them into nothingness with the wooden spoon.

"The last time I made chocolate chip cookies was four years ago," she said. They were at their cousin's house in Michigan. She must have doubled or even tripled the recipe, because they made more than a hundred cookies. "My cousin got mad because everybody was coming and taking them."

They broke the eggs over the bowl and picked out a couple of small shell pieces that fell in. After mixing in the eggs and vanilla, we started adding the flour. They were surprised at how stiff the dough gets, but they got all the flour in.

I think they had the most fun forming the cookies. I made one rounded-teaspoon size cookie as an example for them to match and then went to talk to my roommate the Good Elf while they made more. When the second batch went in the oven, one of them got the bright idea to round the lumps of dough into balls with her hands, then put it back on the cookie sheet. Those cookies came out looking almost store-bought. We all agreed making the dough from scratch was more fun than using the pre-made dough, although one of them thought the chocolate chips melt better that way because you leave the dough in longer. (She had a point.)

My oven's timer counts the seconds for the last minute, so they had fun counting down the last ten seconds of each batch. "Three...two...one! Cookies!" One of them kept saying "Blast off!" instead.

"It's like New Year's," said the youngest.

Between batches we talked about summer and swimming and going to Great America. They thought we should make more cookies and sell them as a fundraiser to buy tickets for a Great America trip next summer. I wasn't sure we'd make enough money selling cookies, but apparently you can get discounted tickets for so many Coke purchases or something like that. I made no promises.

The oldest told me her mom wants to learn how to make cheesecake. I found a recipe on my shelf of cookbooks and wrote it out for her to take home, but I've never actually made it myself. Maybe we'll have to test out the recipe over Presidents' Day weekend.

Sarah's Test Date

I was out of town most of this week, but Thursday morning while waiting for breakfast in an airport restaurant, my cell phone rang. It was Sarah's mom from next door. Sarah's test date for the Orozco bilingual gifted program is in mid-February. She wondered if I had had a chance to talk to the principal about Sarah. Not yet, I told her. It may not matter anyway if they don't have space, but it doesn't hurt to try. We agreed to get together early next week to talk about the test.

It was funny when I explained I wasn't in Chicago, I was in Baltimore.

"Is that far?" she asked.

"Yes. I'm flying back to Chicago today," I answered. (Since she wasn't born here, I don't expect her to have a strong grip on US geography. But it still surprises me sometimes when moments like this pop up.)

Right after we hung up, I called a friend of mine who has had two sons go through the gifted testing process. She asked if Sarah would be going to IIT. I didn't know but said I'd find out next week. My friend's kids both took their tests at IIT. With the older son it was a cattle call--every kid had a number, there was a lot of waiting, it felt very impersonal. This year, with her younger son, she said it went much more smoothly. The wait was short and they called the kids by name. Apparently with the four-year-olds they just take them in a room and an IIT psychology grad student asks them questions until the kid can't answer any more. I wonder if it's different with the school-age kids who don't have standardized test scores yet. I guess we'll find out in February.

Junior's Report Card

Well, I went to Golder today with Junior and his dad to get his report card for second quarter. The good news is his math teacher picked him as her student of the quarter for outstanding improvement in math. (This is the basic math backup class, not algebra, but he got a C in algebra, so I'm happy.)

The other good news is he brought his civics grade up from a D to a C-. That may not seem like a lot, but I know he had to work hard to do it because the class isn't easy.

Now for the bad news. His other D last quarter, in physics, sank to an F because he bombed the final. He got less than half the questions right. We talked to his teacher and she said she knows he is trying but he just didn't get it. This quarter Junior will stop in and see her after school on Tuesdays to go over the homework with her and make sure he gets help on the parts he doesn't understand. Wednesday is her office hours, and he may go see her then, too. The thing is, he'll also have to take a make-up class after school to earn the quarter-credit he missed in physics. The class will either be on Mondays or Wednesdays-they don't know yet.

The other bad thing about failing physics is he will have to pay for the makeup class. It costs $140, which is a lot of money for his family. His dad wasn't too happy about that, as he noted in the car on the way home. "Junior plays Nintendo three, four hours a day. Too much," he said. Dad's right.

The last bad thing is that Junior still hasn't gotten paid for the After School Matters program he did back in the fall and early winter. An administrator assured us she has done all she could to get the debit card from ASM to the handful of kids who haven't received theirs yet, including Junior. Maybe if we're lucky he'll get it in time to use some of it to pay for the makeup class.

Whodunnit?

Well, I think I found out who was shoveling my snow yesterday. Around 5 p.m. the guy I refer to as "The Groundskeeper" knocked on my door. He had already shoveled off the front step.

"I'm broke," I told him.

"That's OK," he said, and kept on shoveling anyway.

"Have you got a place to cook?" I asked. When he said yes, I offered him some of my frozen hamburgers left from last August (it's about time they got eaten, yikes!). He took them.

This morning when I got home from church, Yup-yup tried to tell me he was the one who had been shoveling. I think word about the hamburgers must have gotten around.

Lost Dog--Still Searching for Buddy

The search has been on since before Christmas for Buddy, the small white poodle with a purple collar owned by the former principal of Chavez Elementary. Ms. Traback is offering a $500 reward for the return of her dog, no questions asked. There are signs up all over the neighborhood in English and Spanish with the address--5030 S. Marshfield--and the phone number, which I don't remember.

"Buddy was a ball of fire" around the house, Ms. Traback told me right before Christmas. She really misses her dog, and is pretty convinced that someone found him and is taking care of him. He is a friendly little one so I agree it's likely someone took him in. Hope this helps Buddy come home.

Big Snow, More Applications

Well, we're getting the big snow they said would come. Fortunately, this morning somebody shoveled my sidewalk. My front steps probably had six inches on them by around noon (I hadn't shoveled since early yesterday morning), but the sidewalk had an inch or less. Whoever that was, thanks!

Tone-Loc and Alicia stopped by earlier today. I had seen them on the street earlier this week. Their mom wanted to know when we could do their applications to Perspectives Math and Science Academy. I said, "How about on Saturday?" When they came here, I was on my way to the store to get more salt. I let Alicia borrow my shovel and said I would come to her house to get it back latet.

After I got back from the store, I went over to their place. I noticed there was a shovel out front and wondered why Alicia wanted to borrow mine if they already have one. I knocked on the door and on their window. "Who is it?" someone called. I answered with my name and Tone-Loc opened the door. I went in and stood just inside the front doorway where all the boots were, at the edge of the kitchen/dining room--I didn't want to make any more mess, but clearly other people had been tramping around the kitchen in their boots, so I wasn't taking my shoes off.

Tone-Loc's little brother was playing at the card table set up for dining. "I thought you said it was the police," he said to his brother.

"No, honey, it's just me," I told him. He showed me the photo he was looking at--it was the cake from his birthday party. Tone-Loc went to get his mom. The apartment was tropical-warm (to my feeling) and all four burners on the stove were turned up high with no pots on them. I noticed this but didn't say anything to anyone about it.

A little while Tone-Loc came back and started playing his video game in the crorner of the kitchen. He asked if he could shovel my back yard out. "Not now," I said. "Where is Alicia? Is she out making money with my shovel?" He said yes. (Note: I better get my shovel back, or she's going to pay me for it out of her snow-shoveling money. I thought she needed it because they didn't have one.)

Then their mom came out. She looked like she might have been taking a nap. We shook hands and I asked her when would be a good time to work on those applicatons. "Later this afternoon," she said. I told her I would come back around 4.

I sure hope this works. These kids could really use a good school behind them. As I was leaving, some guy stuck his head out the second-floor window and we greeted each other. I didn't recognize him.

Physics Homework Help

Gotta say it's really sad that I'm Junior's lifeline when it comes to getting physics homework done. When I left the gym early this evening, I turned on my phone and there were four messages from Junior and his little brother asking when I was getting home and could I help them with their homework.

"I have physics, and I don't understand it," Junior told me. When I called him back, it was pretty late and I asked if he had gotten any of it done. "Yeah, some," he said. "There's just two parts I don't understand."

One of them was scientific notation and how to convert back and forth between scientific and standard. There were some problems where you had to multiply and divide numbers in scientific notation and I vaguely remembered you could just add and subtract the powers of 10 (the integers), but I wasn't really sure.

"Call Picasso," suggested Junior. "He's smart."

"Yeah, you're right," I said, and we called him. He's done it at Curie, too, and he thought yes, we could do that. So we did. (If we were wrong, you can call us out in the comments.)

Then we went back and checked something he had done earlier. Junior was supposed to explain and make a sample graph of a direct relationship between two things. He explained it in general and made a general graph, but he hadn't given a specific example. When we looked back, he came up with a good one: "The more kids you have, the more you have to do laundry."

"You see that from having your little brother around, right?" I said. They laughed. (There's nothing like a new baby in the house for laundry.) So he put labels on his graph--I think loads of laundry was the x-axis and number of kids was the y-axis.

Today's Dawn Update

Now that we're all back from the holidays, I went over to Big Picture at the end of the school day today. (I was looking to pay a student who has been helping me with transcribing and translating interviews in Spanish.) After finishing my errand, I saw Alfredo's office door was open and walked over. Just then, Dawn's mom walked out, clutching an envelope. We said hi and she went on her way.

I believe the envelope was a letter of support for Julian, who has a court hearing coming up soon. Alfredo and I talked about what had happened with Dawn. "It was really hard to let her go," he said. But she hadn't been coming to school regularly--she had quite a few absences and tardies. She hasn't been staying at home regularly and her mother doesn't know where she is, all the same stuff that has been happening for over a year. "It was putting a damper on the other kids," to have her come to school irregularly like that, Alfredo said.

We agreed that she is bright and has a lot of talent, but her (and her parents') inability to set routines and follow through on plans is holding her back. Her lack of faith in herself is also holding her back, but she's not taking the steps to take care of herself there either, like going to counseling. "We couldn't do it for her," Alfredo said. I understand that completely.

Interestingly, Alfredo's boss checked in with him when she found out one of Big Picture's last students was dropping out. "Are you sure that's the only solution?" he was asked. He explained the long process it had been and all the work he and Dawn's teachers had done to help her. Alfredo told me that Dawn's mom had thanked him today for all Big Picture had done for her children, even though neither of them will be graduating from the school. "She said she knew from the very beginning that we were on her side and she appreciated everything we had done for them," he said.

Of course, when I came back home from the school, I saw Dawn's mom on the sidewalk and Dawn pulling up in front of the house in her Camry. She gave me a big smile and I waved at her very enthusiastically, but I had to get back to work right away so I kept on going.

As far as Alfredo knows, Dawn is neither working nor going to school right now. Last week I stopped by next door and left a Christmas present for her, a small black purse--over the holiday I called one of her friends to get advice on what to get--so perhaps that will be a conversation starter the next time we run into each other.