The Castle on the Hill

Dear Tasha,

I drove past Overbrook High School today. It was this month two years ago that we drove all over Philadelphia together, trying to get you enrolled in school. I had no idea what I was doing. All I knew was that I wanted you in the best school possible. I have to admit that I got very frustrated. I felt like I was on a wild goose chase, not knowing which way to go or even where I was.

I didn't understand a lot of things.

I didn't understand why you said you were supposed to be in 10th grade, but all of your records said you were in 9th grade. I didn't understand why you denied going to a particular middle school that was listed on all of your transcripts. I didn't understand why you had to go to the neighborhood school that had dismally low test scores, horrible attendance rates, and frequent suspensions.

I didn't understand why you were enrolled in kindergarten a year late, then held back to repeat kindergarten a second year- making you two whole academic years behind your peers. I didn't understand how you managed to make decent, passing grades throughout elementary and middle school, while going in and out of the foster system, dealing with abuse, and changing schools every few years. I didn't understand how anyone could give up on you or not want the best for you.

I still wonder about all of those things. I will probably never know the real answer to most of them, which I tried to come to terms with when you were living with us. Instead of dwelling on your past and everything I had no control over, I tried to focus on your future and how I could help.

Eventually, we managed to get you into a different school. Mostly because of Bobby's adamant determination to change things and my endless worrying about your education. The school was new. The teachers were educated. It made us feel better. You didn't like the uniform or the mascot. But you did like the laptop they gave you (except for the bright orange bubble case it came with), and some of your teachers. It still wasn't the best education, but it was by far the best option under those circumstances.

I could go on forever about this. Instead of rambling, though, I'll just get to the point of why I feel like I need to get all of this out- I still worry about you and the quality of education that you're getting. A few nights ago I had a dream about you. (I dream about you a lot, but I'll save that for another time). In the dream, we were talking. It felt like I hadn't seen you in a long time and I was very happy to be with you (and for some reason your hair was in a weird short style- nothing like the long braids you usually had- but that's not relevant). Anyway, you were telling me that, since you moved, you hadn't been able to get back into Arise Academy where you went last year. You were having trouble getting into a new school. You were getting frustrated by it and were about ready to give up on it and not graduate. I tried to convince you how important it was to go to school and graduate and how it would be impossible to do anything with your life if you dropped out. I hugged you tight, and while I cried on your shoulder, I begged you not to give up.

By now you would be telling me not to get all mushy, mushy on you. :) I'm sorry that I care so much. :) In the last note you gave us, you said that you were advanced to the 12th grade and that you wanted to go to medical school like Bobby. You are capable. Don't let anyone deter you from your path. Bobby and I will always be here- encouraging you, pushing you, and expecting you to do your best.

love,
Amanda