On Anger & Violence in Tiny Bodies
by Kate B.
*I need to give a word of caution first on this piece. First of all, I love the kids I work with, and I do believe that there is light in each of them. Second of all, of all the kids I see, this piece is really only representing a handful, though it’s indicative of a larger problem. Third of all, any mention of racism or sexism by the people of the community is meant to be descriptive of some things I’ve seen, not an analysis of all the people here, or even of the general sentiment here. Don’t stereotype, or I will find you – and scold you, then hug you. I almost didn’t share this but it’s heavy on my heart; be good with these words.*
Today, the love, sympathy, and hope I have for my students turned into fear, disgust, and anger. Or maybe those feelings have been there all along, and just now the veneer of hippie-dippie volunteer love has worn off.
In any case, I am empty.
I want to shut it all out: the mindlessness and fear and violence of the world but I am not able to. I’ve come to accept I can’t do it all; I can only do a little and that’s fine. But today, I have just been in awe at how much violence there is in the world. In souls.
Even souls in small, childlike bodies.
I’ve been doing these anti-bullying lessons in the 4th grade classrooms, and most days I feel positive that I’m at least getting some good thoughts out into their consciousness, but today I felt so small. We were talking about what to do when approached by a bully. It was really basic stuff, stuff that I know doesn’t always work and can’t always help them. But I go through the lesson anyways, not sure who really wrote it or evaluated it. And then I hear the chorus: “My dad says if I get punched, to punch right back!” “I’ve always been told to hit back.” “My parents taught me to fight back.” I tried to explain the difference between standing up for yourself or defending yourself and fighting back. The difference between protection and retaliation. Between justice and revenge. And maybe some got it. But they’ll all go home to their parents who likely think what I teach them is psychobabble nonsense for pansies. Go ahead, hit back.
Even in small, growing minds.
That afternoon at afterschool, though, is when everything fell to pieces. This day’s group is already pretty rowdy – a bunch of mostly 9-12 year old boys – and I was already in no mood. But there must’ve been something in air. The group activity was kickball: a fun, easy, outdoors game that could get everyone involved. You’d think we were sending some of them to prison. “This sucks!” “I knew I shouldn’t have come today!” “I’d rather sit inside.” The rule was made that if they argued and whined too much, we’d sit inside in silence. Thankfully, some of the boys stepped up – trying to keep the peace, playing the game with both a competitive and compassionate spirit. But a few boys lost it. If they messed up, or someone on their team messed up, they quit, or ran off in a rage, or yelled insults about the game. I could see in these students’ faces the absolute rage, like they wanted to hit me, cuss me out, spit at me. Pure, genuine anger over a kickball game.
Even in small, clumsy hands.
All I saw were these violent spirits. Angry, entitled boys, who might grow into angry, entitled men, who might one day grow up to be the kind of people who hurt others. I saw not a desire to win, but a desire to dominate. I saw a fear of commitment and cooperation. And I saw the ribs of 10 year old boys not yet grown; caging in all this rage. I watched these few boys reenact traumas of abandonment and mimic the warped masculinity that dominates this community. And truly, I felt a little disgusted. And a little afraid. I already know of one student (who’s since left) who had been accused of groping another child on the bus. I already know that some of my students are racist. (And not Brad-Paisley-accidentally-racist but actual, “white-is-right” racist.) I’m never sure if they believe it, or it’s just what gets laughs, but it’s unnerving. It’s unnerving to realize you don’t like these kids sometimes; that hope seems gone. I want to hold them and whisper the Spirit’s truth: You are enough, you are enough, you are a Beloved of God! But how can they believe it if they their whole experience speaks otherwise?
How much violence and anger can we take?
With all the violence and anger and polarization we see in the news today, all I can think is: what about these boys? Our boys? Our communities?
Small, angry boys, in small, angry bodies demand a big kind of love and a big kind of action. Where is it?
Becoming a Saint 
Thanks for a very interesting article.
You talk about God & the Spirit, but seem to forget that God is LOVE!
As a younger human being, I, too, would have rebelled against the rule of sitting in silence in a room if I didn’t want to participate in an activity!
If you didn’t have the faith (which worketh by Love) to inspire those kids to play kickball & have fun with it, you should have sought some other activity that they would like! Please remember, “Whatsoever is not of faith is sin!” & “Without faith, it is impossible to please Him!”
A true example of Grace, Wisdom & Love is what these kids need… NOT a pedantic application of rules & law!
“… I was in no mood.” OK. But for THEIR sakes, God’s Love in you will help you deny yourself & inspire them!! ~~& the key to being Inspiring is to BE INSPIRED! Just, with all your heart, ask Him to inspire you!!!
I don’t doubt that you will be more than pleasantly surprised at the positive results you reap!!
Hi, first off thanks for reading and commenting. I’d like to first say: I don’t think I’ve forgotten that God is Love, something which comes through more in my other posts. I’m re-reading John’s Gospel now so, it’s all about the Love. That being said, as a Christian working in Human Services, I am faced with the fact that in the psychological reality, “a true example of Grace, Wisdom, & Love” is not enough. If that were so, many traumas would be healed because I know countless volunteers who love until they burn out. But for kids with instability at home, poverty, drug-addicted parents, etc – the answer is complex. Yes, it starts in Love, and yes, me being in no mood suggests I do have a lot of work to do as a Christian and a youth worker. Secondly, I am just the volunteer in this afterschool program. I do not choose the activities, or the punishments for the group. (I should make clear, we don’t always make them sit in silence, that was a particular punishment for a particular group on a particular day – not a hard and fast rule!) That being said, it is not realistic or even good, I think, to completely change activities because 2 kids are too angry, dominating, and prideful to play along for fun. If we did that every time a kid acted out, we wouldn’t do anything. Kids need structure and discipline – that too, is Love. If I wrote about every time the kids whined and didn’t wanna play, I’d blog every day, but the fact is that this was different – this fit exposed raw the anger of many young boys in this impoverished community. It exposed something that I hadn’t quite seen or understood before. Finally,in this piece i’m simple exploring my reaction to being of service where I am. I am not always feeling this way. I love these kids, and I pray ceaselessly for them. That they might know peace and overcome the traumas of their lives. Perhaps I didn’t make the point of this essay clear but really, what I was getting at, was how do we love and keep up hope when we are fearful and when we see anger and rage rule a young life? The violence and chaos in the world suggests we are not doing enough.
Peace!
I’m right there with you today- doesn’t seem like where you are is all that different from the urban poverty issues and the resultant effects on kids where I am. We had a near fight today over literally nothing and I was talking to the student who had taken the high road this time. She explained the situation, but then made it very clear that had one more inch been traveled over the line, any physically violent response she’d had would have been justified, and even encouraged.
I’m glad that kind of mindset is so foreign to us, but I feel like it makes us specially illequipped to handle it. I’ve been watching Call the Midwife on PBS lately, and the sisters at Nonnatus House have a lovely way of putting this kind of thing into perspective. It always makes me think about school and challenges my judgments. (I give it 4 stars–great show 🙂
I hope you find a little more peace with these issues- I know I’m struggling to myself. Take care!
Thanks for commenting! I’ve been finding lots of similarities between rural poverty (in terms of schools) and urban (at least from my limited experience, and to be fair, there are lots of differences) but the psychological effects of it all is pretty much the same. Here, it’s pretty unusual, at least at after-school, to have such attitudes but when it happens, it strikes a nerve. I do feel ill-equipped to handle it, and I am always amazed by teachers who choose to work with kids, 8 hours a day, all year, year after year. Being here just a year is certainly a challenge.
Dear Kate, I’ve done a lot of thinking about the influence of culture on all of us — and it seems like a good thing to ponder when bumping up against what you wrote about today. Neither of us can change the culture in which these children are growing up within, but we can draw from our beliefs and put out there by our behavior what it means to be counter-cultural today. You will never know what your being there means. I worked for some years with children in a city public housing project, and when thinking about my contribution to the lives of some of the poorest children I’ve ever met I came to this conclusion: I was there when they came home from school…period. I may have been the steadiest presence in their lives. I couldn’t change their home environment, their lack of respect for each other, (I tried..) or the culture in which they moved and had their being…but I was there for them, in good times and in bad. Perhaps that’s all they might remember. As the Jesuit volunteers used to say in their advertising: “this may be the hardest job you will ever love.”
Keep goin’!
Thank you for this comment. It’s encouraging and a good reminder of what I really do believe. It’s hard because I’m coming to the end of my time here…I have to start letting go of any “results” and trust that God called me here and worked through and with me for some reason! I guess I’m just learning hard LOVE really is. Peace.
and consider this, oh light of my life: maybe you are there because you need to learn something from them. 🙂 Maybe that is the plan. i’ve seen this kind of rage too, in Holyoke, doing some of my tutoring as well. the rage in these kids to push back seems to be against all of life, not just a kickball game, or me making them sit and read.
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