Dear Lasharn

You know why I can’t use your real name, but anyone reading this who knew you back then will know who you are instantly.

I need to start at the beginning to help me understand how this letter ends with you calling me from prison.

A few years ago, I came to work on a typical Monday. Working in the school I did was always madness, that’s true. I worked with the young people no one else could or…more likely…wanted to work with. Some said, “Hard to reach and hard to teach.” Most said, “Waste of time.” But that is not how I saw any of the young people I worked with.

Anyway, let’s not get all emotional.

Where was I? Yes, it was a Monday, and I came into madness as always. One of my kids had done this over the weekend; one had done that, yes, yes… I’m on it. And then the head teacher called to say I was needed now…

Okay, Okay. So off I went to the head teacher’s office. He looked worried. It’s not often I see him worried.

He said, “Have you forgotten about today?”

“No,” I said.

He looked at me and said, “Are you sure about this?”

I turned and walked out of the office, shouting, “I’m not going through this again,” over my shoulder as I left.

Two weeks before we had an application, A boy from London was coming to Kent to escape…. madness. There had been police, and drugs, and a knife. When the application came through, it was down to me to agree on whether I was willing to work directly with him when he came. To do checks for drugs and weapons. To make sure it worked. And I said yes.

And now everyone was flapping around because today was the day he was coming,

Except me.

I didn’t need to worry about finding you. You would seek me out, and you didn’t even know I existed or that you would be working with me. But you would find me…they always do.

And boy, did you arrive.

I was in my office when I heard a group of girls start making noise outside my window, and one said, “Oh my god, he looks like Snoop Dogg.” I looked out my window… and there you were. Swagger is not the word; tall and with a big smile on your face. And stoned. It was 8:30 in the morning, and as much you looked like Snoop, you were bloody chilled as him as well. I nodded to myself and went back to my computer. Not time for me to step in yet….

A few seconds later, my door burst open, and a staff member stood in my doorway…his big, fat face was red and sweating from running to my room. I stopped what I was doing and looked at him.

“Can I help you?” I spoke.

” The new boy….he is stoned.”…. This member of staff boomed this as he had just found you selling crack to a year 7.

 “Okay….and what do you want me to do about it?” I asked seriously.

 “Kick him out!” the staff member screamed, with bits of spit flying out of his mouth.

I gave a big sigh. “Have you thought about why he has turned up stoned at 9 in the morning?” I asked, looking him straight in the eye.

And there was silence.

“You try and kick him out if that’s what you’re on…but trust me…he is not going anywhere.”  

That made the staff member mad because he could not kick you out. That was not how it worked in our school. You didn’t get kicked out for being stoned; you got support and help.  

.

I didn’t see you for the first two hours.

I avoided you.

Wanted to see if you would find your way to me….and you did.

At break time a bundle of kids fell into my room, all asking me something, laughing, joking.

“Miss put music on”.

“Kendra, I am not going maths its dead”.

“Miss, do you know what I did at the weekend….your gonna be mad at me”.

And there you were, in the middle of it….of course

You came into my room with a big old smile on your face, said in your street accent, “Good morning, Miss,” and sat in the chair next to my desk.

And that’s where you spent maybe the next 11 months, most break times (and plenty of lessons times) in that chair next to my desk.

Big bad, Lasharn. The drug dealer. Carried a knife. Keeps fighting. Rude to staff. He always smokes and doesn’t care about anything.

But…that was not the truth …was it.

I will tell you what I saw that first day…., and I will tell you what I saw that Monday morning as you swaggered across the playground based on the notes I had read and then on that first conversation with you.

I saw a young man who was so highly intelligent that it was dangerous for him ever to show his full potential in the ends, so he adapted. He dumbed himself down. And got caught up with the big boys and could not hack it.

I saw a young man who had been exploited and refused to believe he had been exploited and said that everything had been his choice.

I saw a young man who carried a knife and used it because he was scared. And even now, I know in your head as you read this, you will say, scared,no. And then that other voice I was so privileged to tap into sometimes will know that is the truth.

I saw a young man who smoked to cover anxiety and for confidence, like someone having a wine in the evening before they went out.

I saw a young man who got a lot of attention from the girls as he walked past yet did no more than cast an eye and look away. He was more interested in money and getting somewhere in life, and that scared me.

Finally, a young man who was angry, Angry at yourself. You felt you had let your family down. They raised you right, hence why you said good morning when you came to my office that first time and every time over the next few months.

That’s what I saw.

And I knew from that second that I would get you to your GCSEs, no matter what. And boy, did you test that promise. Where to start?

You would walk into my room each morning and say, “Miss, can I put my lunch in your fridge?” whilst already putting it in my fridge, I would say “No”. Every bloody day, I said no, and you would say, “Why?” I would say because I may not be here at lunch, and you would say…as you now walked out of my office.

“Yes, you will; we eat lunch together, Miss…come on now.”

It made me so mad because I did not get a lunchtime., You knew that. But every lunchtime here, I was bloody because you would find me. No matter what I was doing, I said, “Miss, it’s time for lunch”. I just gave in in the end. You would eat lunch with me and then go play football. We shared lunch most days; you would let me try whatever healthy thing you had, and I would give you whatever I had.

Sometimes, there were up to 8 boys in that office at lunch. My office was actually an old cupboard, and that is not an exaggeration. There was no window. Nothing. Yet you would all find yourselves in there with me.

Do you remember what we would speak about when it was just us? You would talk about what you would do with your life when “all this is over.”

The illuminate, conspiracy theories, history, slavery, exploitation, the list went on and on.

Every lunchtime, we both learned something new. You taught me things about history, with a focus on black history, and I talked about exploitation and gangs every day.

Drip

Drip

That staying in education will save you.

Drip

Drip

Don’t carry a weapon.

Don’t get kicked out of lessons.

Drip

Drip

I don’t think you ever really knew what I was doing; it was so casual. But every day, in the midst of all the madness, I was slowly drip-feeding you the things I believed would help you.

However, trouble always finds you.

Do you remember the time you had the “fight” In the classroom? Mac came flying through my office door, face as white as a sheet. “Kendra, quick… he’s gonna get kicked out this time”. No name. No explanation. But it could only be one person. I ran down the stairs. The noise was crazy: two members of staff on the floor, the other boy with a broken nose and blood all over the place, and people screaming….

You were wild. Swinging. Sweating.

I grabbed your arms and demanded you look at me. You tried to push me away, and I shouted two words “It’s Kendra,”…and you slowed. You lowered your arms, and you looked at me and said, “I’m fucked now; it’s too late.” I remember grabbing you by your top and pulling you towards me and then half dragging you, half holding you up to my room. Your friends tried to follow, and I would not let them in. I closed the office door and looked at you, and you just collapsed on my little sofa with your hands on your head. We were there for hours.

That’s the person I knew.

They thought they would get rid of you that day.

But once I spoke to everyone, the truth was the boy had been racist, and he had boasted that he would beat you up.

I defended you that day to my peers like your life depended on it. Because I honestly believe that if you had been excluded, your life would have taken a turn for the worse, so all I could do was try to keep you in school and get you to attend each day. From 9 to 3, I knew where you were and that you were okay. Well….I knew where you were!

So, the deal on that one was that one more fight and you would be gone.

So, then there was the second  “fight” in the playground when I was called and had to shout your full name to stop you fighting Like you were my actual child. And the first thing you said when you turned round was.

“I’m sorry, miss”.

You were not sorry for the fight. No way. You were sad that I had come. I didn’t speak. I didn’t need to. I just stayed looking you in the eyes while the whole playground was still going mad. And the staff were screaming. But we just stood there looking at each other.

“But…” you said….like I had just spoken out loud….And then you put your head down and looked at the ground. I didn’t need to speak words. We both knew what I was saying by just looking at each other.

 I turned and walked away, and you followed. I didn’t even look behind me. I didn’t need to. We both knew what you had done would cost us greatly. I stopped at the door when we got to my office and said no. I closed the door, leaving you outside. I was so mad. So, you spoke to me through the air vent in my door. Said you was sorry. I didn’t answer. You stayed for ages. And then you got frustrated, and I heard you storming off and banging the wall.

At the end of the day, you came to my room; my door was open, and you just stood there. Looking lost. “You cool,” you said eventually. I nodded.

That was the only time I really thought we was done. Because now people were losing patience with the both of us and I had said… please don’t fight….

The next morning, you walked in and asked if you could put your lunch in my fridge while I was already doing it, and I said no….

Like the time when staff freaked out because you smelled so strongly of weed that the member of staff said that she was stoned from whatever you were holding and had to go home (Ridiculous by the way)

And I told everyone who would listen that yes…you did have a lot of weed on you but no they could not search you because you had  ballsed it (and yes, I had to explain what that meant to a whole room of senior leaders), but I trusted you to hand over all that you had on you to me.

But we would not be calling the police, and we would not be excluding you.

 What we would be doing is calling your dad. Because we had removed the weed, so now you had a debt. And the last thing the situation needed was police or for you to be out of school.

Your dad was so mad that day! He shocks my hand so hard it hurts.

The time you refused to take off your jumper ended with me being barricaded in my room with you while four members of staff screamed at the door. I just carried on with my work, and once they got in, I stood between you and them and said….

“There are seven kids out there with hoodies on right now…why him”?

And then I asked the question that caused a whole thing….

“Is it because he is black?”

I had to ask because it was the only reason I could see. And the response on the person’s face made us all know the answer….

You took your jumper off, handed it to me, and said to the member of staff…

“If you spoke to me respectfully, I would respond with the same.”

Anyway, it was a LOT! You were a lot.

When you finally left with your results, I said, “If you ever need me, I will be there.”

I saw you about; it was clear you were still on a madness. But I would hug you and ask if you were in education or had a job. You would smile and say, “Of course, miss.”

Then last month your face appeared on my phone.

Man charged with a stabbing., …6 years.

People’s comments were disgusting.

“Best place for him.”

“scum”

“No surprise.”

Strangers are keyboard warriors with no context yet able to judge.

I sat, and I looked at you. A grown man now.

I remember a conversation we once had. You told me that you wanted to have your own business. Once “This was all over”.

 You said to me that you did not like having to deal with nitty’s. That you didn’t like being around knives. That you just wanted to make ‘something of yourself.

So, I contacted Find a Prisoner. I didn’t even know you could do it like that. But I filled out the form, which had a part that asked why I wanted to contact you.

And I cried.

I cried because I had to explain everything above in a little box.

So, I said, “I worked with him some years ago, and I told him if he ever needs me, I will be there…so I just need to check if he needs me.”

That was it.

I got a reply to say it would take some months.

That’s okay.

I got a message saying that you would contact me, and I would just have to wait.

That’s okay.

Then, two weeks later, I got an email.

Dear Sir/Madam

I am now able to provide you with the details ……

And I cried again.

So, I wrote you a letter. I told you that I wanted to know if you were okay, that I was here, and that I would like to visit you, cuss you, and then hug you.

Today, my phone rang. Everyone knows I don’t answer my phone, so I let it ring out. Then it rang again…so I answered.

“Kendra”

And without hesitation, I said your name. …what …4 years later …more

Because I have heard that voice say my name a million times.

And now we will continue our journey. I’m trying to see what I can do out here, and you’re just behaving your bloody self for once in there.

You tried to tell me what happened and how you ended up inside. I just brushed it off and said it was dumb of you.

I only had one question, one thing that I could not work out.

“Why was you even in that area at midnight?” I asked.

“Because that’s where I was for Uni” you replied. And that got me. You had made it to Uni. But that life just followed you anyway.

And then we moved on

Not because I don’t care. Never that

You don’t need that from me because you have been given your sentence and are being punished.

We have started making plans, and I will check in even if it’s just to say hello.

Because it’s easy to walk away, to say oh well, I tried. And it would be easy for you to give up. To say that it is what it is. That you did not do it. It was not your fault,

Instead, we discussed University…what you will do after all this, and your plans to make something of yourself when “all this is over.”

You said you wanted to call me when you went to college and then again when you got accepted to university. I said it didn’t matter because you have called me now, which means a lot.

Anyway, I hope you write back; I think it would be good to hear your side of the story,

Love Kendra

P.S. Let’s get lunch when “all this is over” x.

You can use “Find a Prisoner” HERE