Simon (published originally by Azibo Press)

http://www.azibopress.org/?p=375

I saw his face and was not surprised. His left eye was half-closed, his right eye was bruised, and his left cheek looked like it had been scraped repeatedly by a cheese grater. Instead of shock I felt a very deep sadness within me, but this was not the first time I had been affected by the appearance — not to mention the actions — of this 19-year-old juvenile detainee.

Why was he here? I had asked this question several times to myself and to coworkers who had worked with him before, successfully teaching him to read, as he had gone through the entire program a year or so prior to my start date. After searching for some answers, it became apparent to me that he wasn’t sent to us again because of another crime he had allegedly committed, but because he had absconded from his community placement (likely a group home), and they had nowhere else to send him.

I was told that he was practically tortured by the other youths in his previous stint. He was relatively old even then, but from what I know of him now, he likely had the maturity and personality of a neglected 12-year-old — not to mention his small ears and high-pitched, wavering voice. A youth detention center is no place for the weak of spirit. The other youths, hardly more mature and confident themselves, devoured him like vultures on a carcass. He had no adequate means of defense.

Now he resorts to silly, simple-minded insults — even against me at times — when he feels threatened. His unit-mates know, along with almost everyone else, that those insults don’t lead to threats because he is incapable of backing them up. Recently, Simon was playfully ambushed by another youth at the end of art class. This happened after I had tried unsuccessfully to convince him that writing that his art teacher was a “bitch” on his drawing paper was not a wise decision.

Unfortunately for Simon, the youth’s heavy body almost brought him to the floor. From my (close) vantage point, it did not look like Simon was hurt physically, but his pride had been dashed, and he was already upset for some reason before it happened. Again I was sad, but not surprised, when Simon ran after the heavyset youth in an almost comical fashion but with serious intent to get some manner of satisfaction. One of the corrections officers and I attempted to block Simon’s path, but he kept weaving around us, jumping over tables, and managing to chase his attacker out into the hall. This went on for several minutes, with the antagonist laughing the entire time.

The laughter and general cruelty of the situation upset me the most. I yelled at the larger youth to stop laughing, which only strengthened Simon’s resolve. The corrections officer, ironically called “Tiny” despite his massive build, seemed relatively relaxed at first. I quickly realized that he wasn’t too concerned about Simon catching the other youth because Simon “can’t fight.” Tiny seemed to be hoping he might connect with one of his feeble swings and bring on some much-needed self-pride and satisfaction without physically hurting the target. I didn’t see that happening.

Eventually, once the other youth managed to lock himself in the bathroom with me guarding the door, Tiny moved past me, went into the bathroom, and shouted at him in a voice I didn’t know he had. The part that sticks with me is when he hollered, referring to Simon, “You know something ain’t right with him!”

Soon after, Simon got moved to the awaiting placement unit. Although I passed him in the halls and watched him toss snowballs fruitlessly out in the courtyard, I didn’t have a chance to talk to him until the end of the week, while he was taking his social studies test with the enthusiasm of a kid in a toy store. He later won a game of bingo with my help and seemed to thank me with a half-embrace from behind that caught me unprepared. He showed me a brochure for a therapeutic group home in Pennsylvania he said he might be going to soon. It looked great to me, but he didn’t seem too excited.

I asked around about his face and heard he got jumped by eight guys. Tiny told me they had tried to put him in the hospital. What surprised me is that they didn’t succeed.