The Rose That Grew From Concrete

Did you hear about the rose that grew

from a crack in the concrete?

Proving nature’s law is wrong, it

learned to walk without having feet.

Funny it seems, but by keeping its dreams,

it learned to breathe fresh air.

Long live the rose that grew from concrete

when no one else ever cared.

This week, I sat with a man I have known since he was a boy. It’s hard to define who we are to each other…Maybe Ex “teacher” (I don’t teach). But what I will say is that from day one until now, he is one of my people. The bond we share, the mentor-student relationship, is a powerful, life-long connection that defies labels.

I first met him some years ago. I had been brought into a school to tackle the gang culture in the area. Of course, that was not my official title—god forbid that we admit there was an issue with gangs—but that is what I was there for. I was not there for him at all. But life has a funny way of putting people where they need to be.

The first time I met him, of course, he was in the isolation room at school. It was a nasty, cold, bleak little room where everyone was sitting around doing nothing. It was pointless and a waste of everyone’s time. I had gone to find the student I was actually in post to try and support. I went in and scanned the room, as I always do. I didn’t even see him at first. But I spoke to the staff member, and without prompting, he said…..

“Who are you?”

I remember that I stopped talking and just looked at home and said, “What’s it got to do with you?”  He smiled his big cheeky smile and said something like, “Keep your hair on.”

The following week, I went into a meeting with the head of behavior, and he told me which students were causing the most significant issues. I had no idea why he was telling me this. I did not care. Maybe he thought I was there to support his behavior. I was not. But then he said something that caught my attention….

“These two have to go.”

I looked up from my phone, where I had been looking at trainers as I had no interest in what the school viewed as “bad behaviour “, and he invited me to stand behind him to look at his PC screens. So, intrigued, I did.

The first student he was showing me was the reason I was at the school, but to be fair, he didn’t know that. I simply said “No.” He looked up at me and said, “What do you mean, no? ” I didn’t answer. Instead, I said, “Show me the other one.” He looked confused and then looked back at his screen, pressed the button, and his picture appeared on the screen. The boy who asked me who I was.

“and no again,” I said

The deputy head looked straight at me and said, “What do you bloody mean No”.

I sat back in my chair, and we looked at each other. We had a good relationship, and I liked him. However…

“They are not going anywhere”

We spent an hour arguing, and it got heated. His reason was these two students’ impact on learning, GCSE results, and behavior.

I said very little, to be fair, other than no.

We both left frustrated. His last words were…” You have only known him a week…why are you making such a thing of it?”

But the thing was, I hadn’t only known him for a week. I had been hearing his name for months, and I already knew his face the first time I met him. You see, I would work with the police and go into the office, and in one part, on the wall, were photos of the people they were most concerned about in the area, and this young man, let’s call him Mike, was on that wall. He looked so young and was connected to one of the “Top boys” running county lines in the area from London. The “Ghost line,” it was called.

So I spoke to the police about Mike. They told me who he was connected to and why. I said to the police that he was a victim of exploitation. They disagreed. They felt he was making choices. We debated this many time and they refused to budge on their views and me on mine.

He was 14

So months later, when I turned up in his school and he asked me who I was and I turned to look at him, I had to keep a poker face. Because I already knew him to some degree, I knew he was being exploited, he was “protected,” and he could be in great danger.

Anyway…

I spent the next two years keeping Mike in school. Let me tell you, it was not for the faint-hearted. This kid….

He was so rude to the deputy head…I mean, with good reason; he did want to kick him out. But he pushed boundaries all day long. When staff had enough of him, Mike would spend hours with me in my tiny little room. I kid you not, that little room saw more emotions, tears, and laughter than any other room in the school.

I found myself in daily meetings with the head saying “That does not sound like Mike” or ” nah…Mike is not on that”… knowing full bloody well that it sounded exactly like something he would do , or in most cases, he had already told me he had done it before I even got into the meeting.

Now, let me be clear: I am aware that you should never get attached. I preach this and tell others this all the time.

But me and that group of young people in those two years went through some shit, Espaiclly me and Mike.

At some point, I had to read Mike’s safeguarding folder. He was adopted at a young age. But there was an overview of…before. I read it and then locked myself in my room. I spent about an hour just with my head in my hands on my desk. Angry. Sad. Grateful for his family, he found and who found him.

And then, once he spoke to me about his adoption, and I said I wanted him to promise me something. He said what? I said .. don’t read your files from before. You don’t need to. It will not be good for you. He never answered.

Anyway, after two long years of keeping Mike in school….despite him coming in stoned, fighting, setting off smoke bombs, and the school having to be evacuated (even though he still swears that was not him), we had come to the end of the journey, GCSE time and suddenly…the leavers assembly.

I didn’t ever get involved in the leavers stuff—not really a bit of me. But this time, I had to. Mike and the other student that the deputy’s head had said had to go….but I never let that happen …: I wanted to say… something. But what? What on earth could I say that would match how I felt. And then I remembered the poem…

I can’t remember what I said as I stood up in the hall. I was trying not to cry as the sea of year 11’s faces looked at me as I tried to explain that making it this far was an achievement for all of them. In the end, I think I mumbled something about missing them all but I would like to say a personal goodbye to two people. And then I just read….

Did you hear about the rose that grew

from a crack in the concrete?

Proving nature’s law is wrong, it

learned to walk without having feet.

Funny it seems, but by keeping its dreams,

it learned to breathe fresh air.

Long live the rose that grew from concrete

when no one else ever cared.

It was emotional and I got embarrassed and Mike took the piss out of me (obviously) and I e hugged

I then gave them both the Tupac poem book, “The Rose That Grew from the Concrete.”

And life went on. A million things have happened, and I have seen Mike along the way, checking in and catching up, but it was always just a quick text or a quick hello. Until a few weeks ago. We just happened to bump into each other, and I could not stop, so we texted, and I said, “Let’s meet for a drink.”

It’s funny. When you take the time to slow down, you really do see things so much more clearly. I felt like we needed to talk, and I didn’t even know why.

So 3 days ago we met in our local bar. He bought me a Coke, and we talked for hours. We talked about the past. Our joint past and also his past. We spoke about the future. We spoke about right now. We discussed books and travel. We laughed a lot. We smiled. We got deep. He told me that he did read his file. The one I told him not to. And it impacted him badly. Just as I said, it would. We spoke about the things that happened outside of school, and he told me that he now understood he was being exploited. I said it a million times back then, and he would laugh me off. We reminisced. We tried to remember names, and we argued again about who had actually let that bloody smoke bomb off.  And then he casually said….

Have you seen my tattoos?

He swiftly showed me the back and front of his arm. I looked but didn’t see if that makes sense. On one side was a woman’s face, which I thought he was showing me, but then I realized what he was saying.

Look… it’s the rose…coming out the concrete, he said with his big stupid smile

It honestly took me a few seconds to process. I did not know what to say. I thought I was going to cry right there and then. I just looked at him…up at him…and back at it. I felt like I Had been punched. I said something like, “Oh, it’s so good.” And I was then asked to take a photo…

I said I was going now. I dont think he realised that I needed to leave. Before embarrassing myself in the middle of a bar, I hugged Mike, said a cheerful see ya, and left.

Then I went out to my car.

And I sobbed in the front seat for 25 minutes. Trust me. I checked after,

Because on paper, that kid should have been dead or in prison, according to many people. I put my job on the line twice for him, Never told him … Why would I tell him? It was always my choice and one I would make again if I had to. I knew it would be a downward spiral if he got kicked out of school. I knew what could happen. I knew because it had happened to me.

I once went to his “older”. Me and Mike spoke about it for the first time this evening. I went to the older to ask what his plan was for Mike. He denied anything to do with Mike, county lines, or drugs. I said bullshit, and then we had a massive row. And I promised the older that if anything ever happened to Mike… Well, that’s between me and Him, but nothing did happen to Mike, so …ya know…. we’re all good.

I cried because I am proud of the man he has become.

I cried because being in education is bigger than just being in the classroom. Its about keeping young people in a community. Not pushing them into the arms of exploiters. And we should not have to fight so hard to keep kids in school!!!!

But I mostly cried because I had felt the power of my words….for him to get that tattoo….And it reminded me that we have to be careful with our words when speaking to people because they impact. Our words can be long lasting. Our words are powerful.

It’s his birthday today. He is 23 years old, engaged, has big plans for the future, has a car and a loving family, and is living an everyday life. Maybe he will invite me to his wedding one day. Maybe

So this is my birthday message for him…

You have come so far. You are too hard on yourself, and I get why, but you don’t need to be. You have already made everyone proud, including yourself. I will always be here for you (unless it involves smoke bombs). I am proud of you. I made a choice on day one to fight for you. Seeing the man you are today confirmed it was the right choice. I never had any doubt. Look at you, proving nature’s law is wrong ….. A rose from the concrete….. just as  I predicted. Happy 23rd Birthday.

Love Kendra x