Robert Martin and the Devereux Foundation Part 2
Robert lived in a almost-falling-down house on the poor side of Media, PA with his grandmother and–I think–seven other children. I never had a chance to sort out the relationships there. But none of the parents were living there. The parents were gone; they were in prison, out someplace dealing with drugs, and some had just drifted away from their responsibilities, knowing that they could always drop their kid off at “Miss Ann’s.” The house was chaotic and crazy and a mess but how could you criticize that? Miss Ann was the only person in all my travels of going back and forth between families who offered me something to drink and made a place for me to sit.
There were several little girls who were immediately fascinated with me. They wanted to look inside my purse, at my papers and brief case, my pens and pencils. They were quite lively creatures and they told me I was “nice” and settled down to make drawings for me. I never visited a family without art supplies!
Back to Robert. Robert and I experienced a tight closeness on three separate occasions. I will relate these experiences and I know I’m going to cry while doing so.
After Robert’s show of intense interest in animals becoming extinct, the classroom teacher was frantic with happiness. He immediately set up several computer programs for us to follow together. I was beginning to let go of the tension that came along with working with Robert until one day, for no apparent reason, Robert exploded and had one of his fits. He threw himself down on the floor, kicking and screaming. The teacher and I looked at each other. I learned that day some stuff about dealing with Robert. But I didn’t know how to sit quietly and watch or turn away. I slowly approached Robert to try and help; Robert kicked me in my face. The hard heel of his shoe hit the bridge of my nose. Oh my God, it hurt! I was sure my nose was broken. I ended up with a nosebleed and soreness but an X-ray revealed no broken bones.
That night, I sat and thought. Maybe I should request to be removed from this case? But a new thought came like a shaft of spring sunshine in darkness. Robert had not “kicked me.” He was having a fit and I got in the way of his foot. What a moment. I still can’t believe this actually happened. However, the next day I showed up at Robert’s school as scheduled. The teacher and Robert were so shocked to see me. Neither expected me to return but Robert came up to me and said “I’m sorry, Miss Leslie.” I looked him in the eye and told him what had been revealed–that the kick on my nose was accidental and I wasn’t mad at him. This was the first of Robert’s and my moments of enlightenment–for want of a better word.
lgmwriting 