Violet Fights For Her Worth and Finds Her Voice

On a scorching hot September morning in a worn-out desert town of Southern California, I stepped out of my air conditioned car and hurried down the long dusty hallway to my classroom. For over a week, I - along with dozens of other frenzied middle school teachers - were preparing our classrooms and curriculum for another group of high energy, extremely awkward, and lovingly complicated adolescents. Reaching my classroom, I quickly unlocked the door, feeling refreshed by the cool air.

Within a few moments, I put the finishing touches on the first day's lesson plan and scanned the room for any final preparations. Before long, students began filing into the classroom, nervously searching for the right desk and seeking reprieve from the oppressive heat. As I warmly greeted the early-birds and welcomed them to eighth-grade English, my eyes caught sight of a mature rough-looking girl standing in the doorway, not wanting to enter but not allowing others in. With the sound of the bell signaling the start of class, I walked over to her and smiled. "Hi, my  name is Mrs. Kenley." She paused, looking down at her class schedule. I continued,"May I see your schedule?"

Without a word...

Without a word but studying me behind her thick black make-up and through the long unruly bangs which hid part of her face, she handed the crumpled paper over to me. I looked up. "Welcome, Violet. What a pretty name.  Please take a desk anywhere for now." Making her way to the back of the room, Violet took her seat, adjusted her black tank top so her VV tattoo was completely visible on her upper right arm, and stared out the window.

Violet chose never to read...

Over the next several weeks, my first period English students settled into their routine as did my other classes. Loving teaching as I did, it was always my goal to make sure my classroom was a safe place for kids - to be themselves and also to learn. Early on in the year, many students were excited about reading new novels, engaging in our discussions, and most were exhibiting enthusiasm in our assignments, except for Violet.  She remained in the back of the room, as quiet as a mouse. And although Violet chose never to read in class or volunteer an answer to a question, I knew from her written work that she was incredibly bright and talented.  Her poetry was unusually poignant and personal. I wanted to help her with it - take it to a new level - but I didn't want to intrude upon her self-imposed isolation from our class. Noticing that Violet usually hung out with her friends near our classroom before school started, I decided I would try to talk to her before first period started.

One cool Fall  morning before school, I stepped outside our classroom and peered down the long hallway. I saw Violet leave a group of girls, all dressed very much like her. As she walked toward our room, I approached her.

"Good morning, Violet. May I speak with you for a minute?" She glanced at me nervously, as if she were in trouble. I stepped closer.

"Violet, I just wanted to tell you how amazed I am with your writing, especially your poetry! You have such a gift!"  Violet looked confused, unsure as to what I meant. She said nothing. I continued.

"Violet, if you would like, I would love to work with you on it.  With a little help, I think your writing has so much promise." She stood there, numb.  "I often work with students after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  Do you think you could stay after on those days?" Feeling as though I overstepped my bounds, I waited for Violet to speak. Finally, her mouth moved.

"I....uhhhh....I can't stay after school.  I have to go home right after school is out. I....I  take care of

Her dark brown eyes spoke...

my brothers and sisters."

I jumped at the opening. "Violet, what about before school?  I see you are always here early? Would that work?"

For the first time since school started, Violet looked up at me. Her beautiful dark brown eyes spoke volumes of emotion, but she spoke six words.  "Yea....I can probably come then."



The months flew by, as they always do, especially when students are growing, changing, and blossoming. Violet was transforming too. We worked together every Tuesday and Thursday morning, almost every week. She became very focused on her writing, excelling in every form of it. We entered several poems into the school newspaper and submitted two of her essays to local competitions. Violet started trusting in our class, reading aloud, and participating in the interactive simulations.  As more time passed, I saw how Violet began to believe in herself. I witnessed firsthand how her worth started to form and take hold.

Then to my surprise, one Spring day after class, Violet asked to speak to me, privately. We set a time to meet before school the following week. Violet came to our classroom extra early.  We sat down in the student desks, facing one another. I waited for her.

"Mrs. Kenley, uhhh... I don't know if you know but I am in a girls' gang."  She pulled her sleeve away, revealing the VV tattoo, and covering it again.  "That's me - Violet Vasquez...." She lowered her head.

"Yes, I know, Violet. Are you ok? Is everything alright."  Stumbling over my words, I added, "Is there something I can do to help?"

Lifting her head, she spoke firmly. "No, Mrs. Kenley.  I have to do this myself. I....uhhh...am going to get jumped-out of my gang. I don't want to be in it anymore....and I just wanted you to know cause I may not be in school for a few days afterwards...it's gonna be hard. But, I gotta do it." Violet got up to leave.

I stood up quickly. "Violet, are you sure there isn't something I can do or get you some help?"

Violet paused at the door and smiled. "Mrs. Kenley, you've helped me so much already. Now, I need to do this for me."

Worried sick for several days, I waited for any news. Rumors spread throughout the school of Violet's departure from the gang, and I knew she was home recuperating. When she returned, her clothing had softened and her make-up and hair took on a lighter flaie as well. We resumed our tutoring sessions and Violet's writing flourished. She assimilated even more closely into our network of discussions and activities. And them, to my astonishment, Violet pushed herself even further.

Discovering Myself

At the end of every school year - with all the testing done and finals completed - I offer students the opportunity to "teach for a day".  I require they submit a full lesson plan,with goals, objectives, and a material list. With many applications submitted, I always try very hard to accept every student's application, even if it needs a little adjusting. However, without question, Violet's lesson plan on poetry - Discovering Myself  - exceeded any of my expectations.

On her "Teacher Day", as Ms. Vasquez neatly wrote her name on the board, I made myself comfortable in her desk, now in the center of the room. My heart beat with admiration as I watched her and listened to her. You see, Violet took a risk. She chose to walk away from self-defeating behaviors and move toward self-valuing behaviors. Violet decided to detach herself from damaging influences, and she made the choice to begin investing in herself. She did the hard work. Even with so many forces working against her, Violet fought for her worth and she found her voice.

Violet fought for her worth...

Knowing the struggles that so many young people face today, it sometimes feels impossible to change your circumstances or to alter your path in life. And yet, just like Violet, each of you has a well of worth waiting to serve you in whatever ways you choose.

You must brave enough to fight for it.

Another Way is here to show you the way.

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