The Runaway
By Jenna Eads

I began my teaching career in a non-profit Mental Health Day Treatment facility. The students enrolled there had demonstrated behaviors and/or therapeutic needs which proved too extreme for the public school system. This job taught me how to stay calm under pressure, how to respond positively and appropriately to negative behaviors, and how to design curriculum that would be engaging for even the toughest of students.

When I joined the ranks of a public school teacher, I felt very confident. Sure things would be different and my case-load tripled, but I was positive that there could be no behavior displayed nor story told that could be worse than what I had already experienced. Unfortunately, that was proven to be quite a misperception on my part. You see, what I hadnít considered was the decreased structure and follow through that comes with the public school system. Gone was the 3-strikes model, the four other adults to help whenever needed, the strict routines, and the consistency. What I had were less aversive behaviors with significantly less meaningful consequences.

I had a young girl in my group who was big for her age, was very physically awkward and still struggled with a lot of motor issues. She occasionally drooled and had to be helped buttoning her clothes. She came from a low-income family with a lot of history and was trying to find her way.

For some reason, after the winter holiday, her behavior began to deteriorate. More and more frequently she would throw major temper tantrums ñ cascading herself on the floor, kicking, screaming, and carrying on. Every once in a while, if she felt this wasnít enough, she would run around my room yelling about how she was never going to do the work I asked her to. I would calmly remind her about work needing to be done before going to recess and following directions, and she would eventually come back to the group.

As spring approached, my math group found her again to be in a particularly temperamental space. She had thrown her paper on the floor, and had clearly stated she was never going to complete it. Then she asked to use the bathroom. I told her that she was free to go as soon as she picked up her paper and showed me that she was ready to follow directions. This was obviously not the answer she was wanting, and she began to run circles around my room, hollering about going to the bathroom. I ignored her until she ran out of my room.

When I knew she wasnít looking, I followed her and watched her walk into the bathroom across the hall. I waited to hear the stall doors close and rejoined the rest of the group. It was not unusual for her to be gone for several minutes. With her struggle to get her pants buttoned, it often took her much longer than other students. I watched the clock and waited for her return.

Nearing the ten minute mark, I went to check on her. I was surprised when she was no longer in the bathroom. I checked next door, I called her classroom teacher, and I phoned the office. No one had seen her. I was beginning to panic. Where could she have gone? It wouldnít have been completely shocking to learn that she was playing her own version of hide and seek, and I was ìItî. I continued to look.

After another ten minutes I was really worried. Here I was, a first year teacher in the district, new to the school, and I had lost a student. My search became more frantic. There were now several of us canvassing the school and all-calls were made throughout the building. Still, she did not show up. There was no way she could have left the building, right? Having had gates around my former location, leaving the school grounds was not something I had thought much about.

My short teaching career was flashing before my eyes. How could I call a parent and explain to them that I had lost their child? How would I ever explain that I had done everything I knew to do? What if something had happened to her? I was the one who now felt like running away. I was so worried, I was sick.

Then my phone rang. It was the office. They had just received a call from the Eugene Police Department that one of our students was being picked up by our school police officer at the bank where she had been stopped by a teller. The bank? Are you kidding me? Thatís ten blocks away! She had to cross busy streets! What was she doing there?

As it turns out, she had left the building to go to Albertsons to rent a video. When the clerk told her it would be $1.00, she went to the bank to go get some money. When she tried to withdraw money from her parents account, it raised suspicion with the teller who began asking her questions. Fortunately, all of the questions she answered correctly. The bank teller notified the police who called campus security. As she explained it to the police, she just wanted to check out a movie because ìmy group was so boringî. She just wanted to ìdo something funî.

Now thereís a way to make a new teacher feel good. This was not what I wanted to go into a conference with. The principal was none too pleased. Her parents, on the other hand, were extremely gracious and apologetic stating that this had been happening at home as well. She was completely unfazed by the entire incident and had nothing more to say. Although this little girl was street savvy enough to walk the mile to get a video, she could not understand why we were all so shaken by the whole ordeal. She was just trying to help.

I will never forget that day and have become more prone to standing outside bathroom doors. I also work very hard at showing kids that learning can be fun ñ even if there are no movies involved.