My daughter attends our local public school. She gets an education that is fantastic and I would never in a million years consider switching her to another place. The school she attends has a 50% poverty rate. I've known this for quite some time now, but that 50% poverty rate statistic smacked me squarely in the face this week and I can't take a child out of my mind.
While cruising around to gather the last of the t-shirt sizes needed for our walkathon prizes, I had to flip a few shirt tags because the two notices sent home went ignored. There was one child, in a sling and an obviously too small shirt, that I needed to check.
He was in the 4th grade and wearing a size 7 shirt. He is well into a 10/12, if not borderline on a 14/16 for length. I took a deep breath. He's gotten to the age where I'm sure that kids notice. I hope with everything in my heart that he is not made fun of for it.
I was speaking with a couple of PTA board members about it. The one suggested that I speak to the guidance counselor to make certain that he has a winter coat.
Mrs. W- stopped me today and T- does not have one.
:deep breath and with tears:
We'll be making certain that he's got a bag of clothes going home and that he will have a warm coat for winter. Still, I sit in my warm house, typing on my pieced-together computer with an operable phone, beds, clothes, water, food, a child that really should consider herself as wanting for nothing (she doesn't have everything in the world, I promise, but materially she has more than some) and then there is T-.
Belt out a prayer for him, eh? Word has it that kiddo has a kind of tough life. He's on my mind and in my prayers. He has truly tugged at my heart all week long.