Especially for neglected children, school is essential in Stanislaus County

On a spring day in French Camp, Mary Ellen was called back when her third-grade peers exited for recess.

Her teacher quietly retrieved a roll of paper towels from the cabinet. She tore off a few sheets and soaked them in the sink. Then she walked over to a timid, scrawny, dirty, child and gently wiped the dirt from the young girl’s face and arms.

Mary Ellen hadn’t had a bath in a while. She was dirty. She was hungry.

Mary Ellen was the second of four children. She was the only girl. Her father had recently been admitted into a care facility. Her mother had not been home in several days. When she was home, she wasn’t present.

Mary Ellen hid from her older brother, John, who tortured her with his slingshot and BB gun. Her younger brothers Danny and Jimmy were hers to care for. Danny was at school but Jimmy, the baby, was home. She worried about him throughout the day. If she was lucky she’d be able to sneak something for him to eat from the cafeteria.

Her teacher asked her about home. Mary Ellen didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know she was neglected. All she knew was that her teacher made her feel safe. And loved. Her teacher cared.

Not long after, Mary Ellen and her brothers were placed in foster care. Her teacher was the voice who saved her from a situation she may not have made it out of. If it hadn’t been for school, and that particular teacher who noticed the neglect, who knows what would have become of Mary Ellen and her brothers?

You might think this would be their saving grace, but it wasn’t. Mary Ellen remembers being separated from her brothers. She was placed in several abusive foster homes. She was moved from home to home and from place to place.

However, Mary Ellen always had school. School became the only place where someone cared for her. School always made her feel safe. Her teachers protected her. They were often the ones who made the phone calls that moved her out of bad situations. They helped her learn to read and write. They helped her learn math and science. Teachers helped her develop self-confidence and self-worth.

Eventually Mary Ellen was placed in a wonderful home where she was loved and cared for. She stayed in that loving home — the home of a second-grade school teacher — until the day she married my dad. If it wasn’t for school and those huge-hearted school teachers, who knows what would have happened to Mary Ellen, my mom?

In 2001 I became a teacher. It filled my mom’s eyes with tears of joy to help me set up my first classroom. She told stories of all the afternoons helping in “Grandma Helen’s” classroom. She told stories of the gentle way Grandma Helen redirected rather than reprimanded her students. Grandma Helen, and all of those teachers, saved my mom. They taught her to be the incredible mom she has been to me for 41 years.

In this time of pandemic, I fear for Mary Ellens out there who are not able to escape abusive, negligent homes by going to school. I fear for the Child Protective Services calls that are not being placed. I fear for the loneliness, the fear, the lack of hope. Children need to be at school. They need to have a purpose and place.

I know COVID-19 is scary. The fear has been sensationalized. The side effects of shutting down the only safe place so many children have are so much scarier.

I am a teacher. I am an essential worker. I want to return to the classroom, with my students, so I can be the voice for the voiceless. I want to save the Mary Ellens of the world. I want to give them hope, purpose, and a chance at a better life.

Let me return to school. It’s essential.