I was in First Grade in Ms. H’s class and I sat next to a boy who always had bruises on his body. Their was not one day when he didn’t have injuries on his body. The kids in class would always poke fun at him and I would sometimes laugh along too. I wasn’t proud. One day on the playground I saw a teacher approach him and reach out to grab his arm and he would then scream don’t touch me. Later that day the school nurse was worried and asked him what went on at home but he refused to tell her. Then the nurse walked out of the classroom and then the principle came into the classroom. The principle asked him to come to the main office and I had asked to be excused to the bathroom but I instead went to the area outside the front office to eavesdrop and I saw a police officer there. For the three minutes I was there I heard him say that his Mom wold hurt him if they knew that he was abused. I felt a loud voice calling my name. It was my teacher. After school my Mom asked why my teacher called her. I replied that I was worried that a classmate might be abused by his Mom. The next day my Mom went to school to talk to the classmate and he told her everything about the abuse. After school my Mom went to my classmates house but the parents did not open the door. My Mom later got the police and they still did not open the door. I later found out that they moved to New York. Shortly afterwards my Mom went on a flight to New York to try to find him but couldn’t. On the News one day before she came back she found out that he had run away from home to the police station and was placed in foster care. I never found out what happened to him.
November 1, 2010