At The Beginning Of June As I Sat There Listening To Members: Fill & Download for Free

Long story, but let’s start from the very beginning.June 2018“Huh, Blackpink was pretty good, let’s check out what Lucy* was talking about… this Twice group, right?”My mouse hovered over the music video titled “Heart Shaker M/V”. And I pressed on my mouse, waiting for the video to load.A girl with a white shirt was introduced as the doors opened. She sang cutely, and then it transitioned a different girl. Okay, why is this song so childish?(Past Samiha, do me a favor and listen to their sidetracks)Throughout the video, I sat there with an expressionless face. “Hmm... interesting”And then this girl wearing a pink shirt came in with the bridge part…Her vocals are really nice and soothing to listen to! She looks pretty as well…(And that is how Mina was my first bias)Wait…Holy crap, there are so many members!! How did Lucy memorize them all? Ugh, Blackpink was so easy, only 4 members….(Apparently, Past Samiha can’t tell that they were just clones and edited.)Damn it, I think I actually like this song. The group is pretty interesting. Guess it’s only this song then that I like, I don’t want to listen to any of their other songs.(Man, I do this with every group I eventually stan, don’t I?)July 2018“Oh… it’s that Twice group again.” I notice a new recommendation on my YouTube page, filled with anime funny moments and animator content, sprinkled with Blackpink and other artists’ music videos.I clicked on the music video called “Dance the Night Away M/V” and let it play, intently staring at it to see what it was all about.A few minutes later…“Holy crap! That song was amazing!! Again!” I pressed repeat for the next few times until I decided to watch something else.But that didn’t stop me from dancing the choreography in front of the mirror when no one was looking. I also grew interested in that girl who was center at the end of the music video.You know, this one:(Jihyo successfully bias-wrecked me after a point)So, I ended up watching Likey, Cheer Up, and Like Ooh-Ahh, along with the famous TT. These were songs that I adored after watching it a second time. Like Ooh-Ahh definitely took some getting used to since it was different compared to their other title tracks and MVs.I guess you could say I liked that ice-cream girl in Likey:Along with the rapping girl that was holding a gun in Cheer Up:So yeah, I learned their names. I couldn't tell them apart, though. They sorta looked similar.(*scoff* They do not, Past Samiha!)And then I lost interest in Blackpink, along with Twice and Red Velvet. Besides, I will never be as annoying and fangirling about K-pop as Lucy or Zia**. I don’t understand why they are so attached to it….K-pop is just a phase.(Hehe or so you thought, Innocent Samiha)November-December 2018F*ck, I fell into the hole again.Thank you very much, IZ*ONE. Damn you and your catchy songs and loveable personalities. And Chaewon’s vocals along with Chaeyeon’s dancing skills. (Speaking of IZ*ONE, just a couple of days ago, it was my WIZ*ONE anniversary!! Also, support them and give them love during this time…)And now, I got back into Blackpink and Red Velvet as well.Hm, I haven’t listened to Twice in a long time, did they release any new music?(Silly Past Samiha, of course, they did! It’s Twice.)My thoughts: “Interesting… Mina definitely stood out!! Creepy but cool, I guess. Not my favorite, but it was okay.”But, there was a problem:How the actual hell was I supposed to tell them apart? They looked similar! Especially in the beginning with Mina’s “Hey boy…”!(Don’t worry, Innocent Samiha, you will learn! You learned IZ*ONE, you can do Twice.)In the end, I immersed myself into the Twice fandom slowly, relearning their names and watching the music videos, plus telling them apart. I started to watch funny moments after a point, and after I entered the fandom, I watched Sixteen.I did not officially call myself a ONCE until the day after “The Best Thing I Ever Did M/V” released.The date was 12/13/2018.So, that’s the story of me slowly becoming a ONCE! It has almost been one year, time flies by so quickly.Thanks for reading!! <3Notes:*Lucy is a fake name for one of my ex-friends that liked K-pop around late 2016, she’s in my new school, and from the looks of it, I think she faded from it**Zia is a nickname for one of my best friends to this day, she doesn’t stan Twice, but she is a fan. But in late 2017-late 2018, she was crazy over BTS and other boy groups. She’s still a fan, just calmer now.

I answered my ringing phone one fine June afternoon in 2013, not knowing that I was about to receive the biggest shock of my life.It was my oldest daughter. “Mom”, she said, “now don’t get upset, but I have to tell you something.” And then came the words that I never expected to hear in a million years. “Mom, Uncle Dale is missing.”My breath left my lungs and I could not breathe more air in, my knees got weak and I sank to the floor. Uncle Dale is my brother. My beloved brother.A little bit of history here. I have 2 brothers, Mike who is one year younger than me, and Dale who is 3 years younger than me. When Dale was born, I was so in love with that boy. He had colic, and cried a lot, and Mike and I, little kids that we were, learned to keep quiet as possible during the brief times Baby Dale slept. He outgrew his colic after several months, and became the most charming, most adorable baby in the world. He was mine. I claimed him. I doted on him, consoled him when he cried or got in trouble, we were together constantly; where you saw one, you saw the other.As the years passed, my brothers and I were extremely close. We travelled all over the world, following my military father from one station to the next. We moved about every 2 years, but sometimes only stayed in one place a year of so. Making new friends all the time was the norm, but it was hard too, and so the three of us stuck together. If one was in trouble, the other two went to bat for him. We had each others backs as we grew into adulthood, and Dale was still, even when he was grown with a family of his own, my boy.When we were in our late 30’s, or there-about, Mike started acting totally crazy. Soon enough we found out that he was cooking and using meth. His behavior was so odd, so unbelievable, I began to avoid him because the crazy things he said would upset me; he was very unpredictable and could become angry and violent in the blink of an eye. Finally he was diagnosed with schizophrenia. That explained a lot. After a bunch of conflict, Mike basically removed himself from the family. I haven’t seen or talked to him since 2003.After Mike’s diagnosis, Dale and I became very close. More than ever. We shared everything with one another. Dale was in a marriage that was in trouble. (I had my thoughts, but kept them to myself) He had 5 kids by then, and wouldn’t leave her because he adored his children. But he came to me often, confiding things in me that she had said or done, and inside I was furious with her. I was in a relationship with a narcissistic asshole; I didn’t know that he was a narcissist until after I left him, and that is a story for another time. Suffice it to say that Dale and I spent many hours together talking things over, laughing together, and crying together. He was my heart, my confidante, my partner in crime, my best friend.Dale and his wife had been invited by my parents to take a trip out west (we live in Texas) in my parents motorhome. They planned to stop at some national parks, and Dale was especially keen on seeing Yellowstone. On June 5, 2013, Dale came to see me and say goodbye, as they were leaving the next day. He had been hesitant about going along at first, but had changed his mind. I told him to be careful and have fun. He said, “Oh yeah I will. You never know though, I might just get lost out there.” I didn’t like that response one bit, and told him so. He just laughed his silly laugh and left my apartment. He was only kidding. As he walked across the parking lot to his car, I called out to him, “Love you Brother!” and he had replied, “Love you too, Sister-Girl”.Little did I know those would be the last words he would ever speak to me.Back to the phone call. I was on the floor with my hand clutching my phone in a death grip, trying to see through the fog that seemed to have descended on me as I heard those terrible words, “Mom, Uncle Dale is missing.” Everyone knew how close Dale and I were. My daughter hated to be the one to bring me this news. Here is what she told me:My parents motorhome had a hiccup on June 8, just 2 days after they left home. They found a shop that could repair it, but it would take a day to get the part. So they decided that instead of sitting around, waiting for the repair, the next day they would take a little side-trip. They got in the little car that they were towing behind the motorhome, and headed to Mesa Verde National Park, in Mesa Verde, Colorado. My parents had been there several times, but Dale and his wife had not, and Dale was really interested in seeing the old dwellings that were abandoned by Native Indians many years ago. There are hiking trails up the mountain, and one called the Spruce Treehouse Trail, which is a paved trail, very steep, that goes down to the Spruce Treehouse, an abandoned dwelling. Dale said he was going to check it out. His wife had a bad knee and was very overweight, and she decided to stay behind, and so did my parents. Dale’s wife, as Dale walked off, told him he should take a bottle of water, and he replied that he would only be gone 30 to 40 minutes and didn’t need any water. He set off on the trail, and the rest of the crew sat on a porch of one of the park buildings in the shade, where they could see Dale as he walked down the path. Dale had several back surgeries and had a bent-over funny gait, so they were able to pick him out of the other people as he got farther away. Then he rounded a little bend and they lost sight of him. That was the last time they would see Mitchell Dale Stehling.After sitting for an hour waiting for Dale, my mom began to have an uneasy feeling. After 2 hours had passed, and Dale still hadn’t returned, my mother raised the alarm, told a ranger that her son hadn’t come back from his short hike. She knew something was wrong. Not that it wasn’t like Dale to be late. He would often, in life, say he would be at a certain place at a certain time, only to show up late. But still, my mom said she just knew something was wrong.Immediately a search began. It was starting to get dark, and so the rangers called off the search. Dale didn’t return during the night. The next morning brought more searchers, and for the next week, the search was intense. Missing posters were printed up and posted all over the park, and the town nearby. There were searchers on foot, on horseback, on ATV’s, in helicopters and eventually even a FLIR jet circled the mountain, trying to locate Dale with its heat-seeking device. There were search dogs as well, but the all went to one spot and laid down and refused to search any further. One lady was there as a journalist, and as she hiked along she reached a place where she thought she heard someone say, “I could used a little help down here”. She looked and looked and listened some more, and then ran as fast as she could back to the ranger station to report what she had heard. Nothing was found at the location where she heard the voice, and they all decided that what she probably heard was searchers calling out Dale’s name. A father and his two daughters came forward and reported that they had run into the man on the missing posters twice the day before, but he was not on the Spruce Treehouse trail, he was on the petroglyph trail. Everyone wondered how in the world he got way over there.But no answers were coming. After a week, the search was scaled back and finally everyone decided to go home. Dale’s children had all gotten in the car and driven straight through to Mesa Verde, and they were crushed to have to leave without him. HIs wife was in disbelief, but still thinking he would be located and my parents were just numb with shock. Their youngest was missing, and there was not one clue, not a hair, a button, no cell phone, no sunglasses, no cigarette butt, nothing to show that he had ever even been in the park.I cannot describe to you what hearing about all this did to me and my poor heart. I was inconsolable. This was impossible. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. All I could do was cry. I still held out hope of Dale being found for a couple of weeks. But one day I felt a settling in my heart, and I knew deep down inside that my dear Brother was no longer in this world, I felt that he had passed on, somewhere up that mountain, and was now in Heaven. Oh the grief. Oh Lord I missed my brother. I couldn’t fathom what could have happened. I remembered him saying he might just get lost out there. Dale had been suicidal a couple of months before they left on the trip. When I had talked to him about it, he had said that he couldn’t just walk off into the pasture and kill himself, because one of the kids or our parents might find him, and he didn’t want to cause trauma like that for anyone. I remember clear as day him telling me that if he did commit suicide, it would have to be in a place where he would never be found. My mind clicked back to that day, and I remember making him promise me that he would never do such a foolish thing. I knew Dale had a drug problem. He also had hepatitis C from using a dirty needle years before. He had complained of severe pain to me, and made me promise not to tell anyone. In 2013, there was no cure for Hep C.I had so many questions, we all did. I sought out a couple of people who were Dale’s good friends, and I asked questions. Turns out that Dale had told 3 of us that he might just disappear “out there”, all in a joking manner. Also turns out that Dale bought and took along a “shitload” (his friends word, not mine) of dope. He was also on a methadone program, and he had left his methadone in the camper. This is important because some people had suggested that he just walked off to build a new life somewhere else. If that was true, he would have taken his methadone, because without his daily dose, he got severely ill. Dale’s disappearance was big news back home. Made the papers for several weeks and also the local news. I would stand in line at the bank or the grocery store and hear people talking about it. My heart was broken. So the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, and unbelievably, a year passed by with no word on Dale. He was now classified as “Missing, Presumed Dead”, but it would take 7 years to declare him officially deceased. That was something none of the family could bear to think of.I got wind that Dale’s wife was planning a trip out to Mesa Verde, with plans to be in the park, and hike the trails on the one year anniversary of his disappearance. I asked if she had room for me, and she said yes she did and I was welcome to go along. So we set off in the wee hours of June 5, 2014, Dale’s wife, myself, his mother-in-law, his sister-in-law and two close family friends. We arrived in CO and spent the night in a hotel in a town close to Mesa Verde, and I had altitude sickness. Oh it was so miserable, like being drunk and hungover at the same time. I was able to choke down a little bit of food, and gradually the sickness went away. Before we drove to the park, we did a bit of souvenir shopping, and Dale’s wife explained to one of the clerks at a shop we were in, the reason for our visit. The clerk said we should meet with the local medicine man. Maybe he would have some answers. She drew a map showing how to get to his house. We drove all around, for a good bit, until finally we found his place. Drove up, and just as Dale’s wife walked up to the mobile home and reached out to open the storm door, a good sized dust devil blew up and swirled around her, engulfing her in a mass of leaves and sand.Finally, the man came to the door. We all sat in the car, watching, and saw him point to a little wooden hut just a little ways from the home. Wife came back to the car and told us that the man had said we were welcome to wait for him in the little wooden hut. We all filed in, and found chairs to sit in, and soon the man came in too. He introduced himself as Justin, a Traditionalist in the ways of the Navajo Indians. He himself was a Navajo. He said he had helped some other people to find lost people, and he would do what he could for us. He appeared to meditate, and then he began speaking, and I began crying. I cried and cried as he told that he felt foul play could have been involved. He said that he “saw” Dale in what he believed to be a yet undiscovered abandoned dwelling, and that there had been a man there at one time, a man with “yellow hair, cut straight across his forehead, a man who had bad intentions, but is no longer with Dale”. Justin walked over to a pile of coals and ashes in a little fire circle on the dirt floor of the hut. He took an old dustpan and scooped up some of the coals as he explained that he had made a sacred fire a few days before and often used the coals in his rituals. He placed the coals on the floor in front of us and stirred them around, and as he did so, he explained that he could see that Dale had one side of his face bashed in, like something heavy had fallen on him, or like someone had hit him in the face with a rock. He drew our attention to the coals, and said, “You see? Like this”. and as I looked at the coal I could see plain as day, Dales profile. His high forehead, his cheekbones, his nose. I had never stopped crying. I was a blubbering, snotting, slobbery tearful mess. Justin said a few other things to us, and also said that there was a traditional ritual that could help us to let go of our grief, which was important, because by grieving so hard, we were preventing Dale’s spirit from moving on toward the realm where he wanted to be. And so Justin got up and got some feathers, I think actually it was the whole wing of some kind of hawk. He asked me to come stand up in front of the coals and ash he had placed on the floor, and I walked toward him, tears streaming down my face, and he told me he wanted me to go first because he could see that I was the one who was most filled with grief. As I stood there, Justin the Traditionalist dipped the birds wing into the ashes and stood at my side. He raised his hand high in the air, and brought the birds wing down hard in front of me; it made a whooshing noise and I could feel my hair blow from the wind he created. He did this to my front, back and both sides. He had asked for someone to stand near me and catch me if I fell, because, he said, “Sometimes they fall”. When he got to my left side, I went down on one knee, but was steadied and I went back up on both feet. By then I was aware that I had stopped crying. As he stepped around me, I felt something that I can only describe as a whirlwind coming out from the top of my head. It happened very quickly, and immediately I took in a big breath of air and I said, “Oh my God, I can breathe again!”. I hadn’t realized until then that I had been struggling to breathe for a solid year. Justin performed the ritual on the other members of our party, and we said our goodbyes, glad for the experience, but with really no more information than we had at the beginning.We arrived at the park, and I decided not to walk the trail because my bum knee and ankle might go out half way up and then I would have to be rescued. That was the last thing I wanted. I used some “miracle cream” on my knee and ankle, and the pain went away, and I decided at the last minute to take the chance and go on the trail with the other people I was traveling with. So I set off on the Petroglyph Trail, expecting to catch up with my friends. But I never did. At the beginning of the trail I met quite a few people coming back from the nearly 3 mile hike, and they told me it was really rough, and to be prepared. I continued on. I had stopped to rest at the petroglyph panel, and a couple came upon me there. We chatted for a minute, then I went off down the trail. Later I rested again, and the same couple came upon me, and they passed without resting. I could hear their voices and footsteps as they faded away, and I realized that it was getting later in the afternoon, and I better hoof it. So, I got up and walked on, never encountering another soul for the rest of my hike….except for one lone female hiker who unexpectedly walked up behind me, scaring me half to death. I had just passed a place on the trail that smelled strongly of cat urine and I recalled that there are wild cats and bears, etc living on this mountain. It was such a strong smell that I thought it might be relatively fresh, and hearing a twig snap behind me, thought for sure it was the cat in question, and I started, throwing both of my arms out from my side like a new born baby does at the sound of a loud noise. The hiker told me I was almost at the end of the trail, and by then I was hot and tired and thirsty, having drunk the two bottles of water I carried in my fanny pack. This was good news, because the trail was rugged, and I had had to climb up on hands and knees and shimmy down on my butt, had tiptoed up and down rough steps hewn from the side of the mountain, and had squeezed through tight areas and ducked under low hanging areas, and had clung to the side of the mountain as I side stepped the trail with a steep drop off behind me. I had walked quickly, hoping to catch my party, and I was so happy to see the ranger station after about 2 1/2 hours of walking. (It wasn’t until later that it registered with me that I hadn’t heard any sounds of nature on my hike up that mountain. No insects, no birds, all I heard was the breeze blowing through the trees. Scary when it dawned on me.)I made it to the bathrooms, to discover that my hands were swollen and so my rings were extremely tight, and even after running them under cold water, I couldn’t get my rings off. I splashed water on my face, and wandered toward a restaurant, when I saw the mother-in-law cross the road heading to the restrooms. I snagged her, and the first thing she said was that she had decided the hike would be too much for her and had stayed behind. She said she was sorry that I hadn’t made the hike and had to turn around and come back. I told her that I had completed the hike, and some passersby commented that 2 1/2 hours was really good time to complete the hike, as it normally took a novice about 4 hours to complete.Eventually all the others came back, hot and tired and thirsty, having left after me (I thought they were in front of me) and taking over 4 hours to complete the hike. We were all in good spirits, we all ordered food and ate, and then returned to the car, drove down the mountain and back to our hotel. The next morning found us headed back to Texas. Without any new information on Dale.People have asked me if I felt Dale’s presence on the trail or in the park, and I have to say honestly that I did not. I found myself peering into cracks and crevices on the hike, subconsciously looking for him. But I definitely didn’t get any feeling of him being there with me.It has been six years since my brother walked off on a hike that should have taken no more than an hour, never to return. It is a complete mystery. We have never had even one clue as to his whereabouts. I still grieve daily for my brother, and that hike up the mountain is one of the highlights of my life. I walked where he had walked, I saw the scenery that he had seen, I breathed the air that he had breathed before he simply disappeared on June 9, 2013. That was enough for me. I don’t need to go back. It feels too empty up on that mountain, I don’t belong there.As a postscript, I would like to say that there is a man by the name of David Paulides who investigates mysterious disappearances like Dale’s. He has travelled to Mesa Verde and walked the trails where Dale was seen, and he has met with and interviewed Dale’s wife and one of his sons. He has written books about the missing, called MISSING 411, and Dale’s story is included in one of these books. Come to find out there are thousands of people, adults as well as children, who have gone missing in our national parks. Some have been found alive, some have been found deceased, but the great majority of them seem to have simply vanished off the face of the earth. David doesn’t have the answer to what is causing these mysterious disappearance, and he doesn’t pretend to. His books consist of page after page of pure facts about missing person cases, he doesn’t include heresay or opinions, simply the facts. He has a number of books out and two movies, about this crazy phenomena, and he leaves it up to the reader to come to their own conclusions about each case. In January of 2019, David Paulides hosted a program on the History channel called, VANISHED, and it is about the disappearances of two men in separate parts of the country, one of which is my brother. In the show, Dale’s story is told, and there are scientists who visited Mesa Verde and checked for magnetic energy and the like at some of the places where Dale was last seen. They concluded that it is possible for portals to other dimensions to open up in places like those, and when David asked them if they thought it was safe to suggest to the families of the missing that their loved one simple had walked through a portal to another dimension. they both responded with, “yes, it would be safe to say that.”I have accepted that I will probably never know what happened to Dale, and I have accepted that he may never be found. There is no other choice for me, because I had to have some sort of closure in order to carry on in this world without being clouded in grief. Oh grief, damn grief, it gets you down and smothers you. It causes physical pain, as well as emotional turmoil. In my case it has helped me to grow into a more spiritual human, and I believe with all my heart that I will be reunited with Dale when God calls me home to my place in Heaven. Until then, I choose to believe that one way or another, my brother simply took a step, his last step on earth, and that he entered a portal to Heaven. I choose to believe that he doesn’t even know hat he has died in the sense that we think of death, because Heaven is perfect, and you leave everything worldly behind, even your memories.If you are interested in learning more about my brother, Mitchell Dale Stehling’s story, google his name, or google Missing 411 or David Paulides. Beware of fakes. David has touched on something that no one has bothered to investigate in the past. (The Dept of the Interior doesn’t even have a data base or a list of people who have gone missing in national parks. Isn’t that crazy?) So there are a lot of copy cats out there.Thank you for reading my answer. I tried to keep it shorter, but I don’t know a short quick way to explain the mysterious disappearance of my dear brother Dale.

A few years ago, I had a student who ruled his home like a tyrant. He was one of 10 children (he was 2nd oldest). He had serious behavioral problems but they were made worse by a family that allowed him todo whatever he wanted and when he didn’t get his way, he screamed for mommy, who granted his wish to get some peace.This kid came from another school who turned out had 2 adults on his case-one for health and one for behavior. They removed his one to one services to see how he would manage in his new school. He stripped himself naked any time he got angry or just felt like it. He touched students in an inappropriate manner (he grabbed backsides and sometimes crotches). When he was angry at the teacher, he grabbed something off her desk and smashed it to pieces. He knew how to hit his head on a desk to make his nose bleed. Worst of all, he was smart enough to know when an old stunt stopped working, he tried a new one.As an experienced aide who managed other behaviorally challenged students, I knew this kid was a tough cookie. In the year I worked with him he stabbed my hand with a pencil, kicked me in the ankle, kicked me in the shin, pulled my hair, punched me in the stomach, tried to grab my glasses off my face, and tried to choke me with my ID neck chain. He was brought upstairs for crisis intervention quite a few times. I was told to stop filling out reports on him as I was “making a monster out of an angel.” This was told to me by the crisis intervention teacher-and a month later she witnessed him grabbing my neck chain and wrapping his hand around it to try to choke me. I stopped calling for help except when he stripped naked. As a woman I couldn’t and wouldn’t touch him to get his clothes on. I called for male assistance for that. When the boy attempted to choke other students in gym, I had him leave and we stayed outside. He would tantrum on the floor kicking and screaming for mommy. I stood by quietly and let him go on. Finally he sat up and looked at me. “If I say I’m sorry can I go back to gym?” “Only as long as you don’t touch anyone. If you touch anyone you will come outside again.” It was a rare occasion he actually stuck with not touching anyone.I felt he was intelligent. Since my reading about Helen Keller, children who tantrum often have some motivation. If I could tap his intellect it would make a difference. However, I was opposed by the fruitcake of a teacher I had. She knew more than I did because she was trained as a teacher. My then 15 years of experience meant nothing to her. She witnessed him trying to hit other children in class, hitting staff, taking off his clothes-but she refused to believe he had a problem. He’s new to the school, he’ll be ok. The boy’s mother admitted he had always been like this and even reports from his last school said that as well. I knew he had several aides because in the beginning of the year, he called me by three different names. It was one thing to have a difficult student. But to have an equally difficult teacher made life awful. I complained about her more than him and asked crisis intervention and administration to please talk to her.In February, after the choking incident, we had a meeting. They admitted he had a behavioral issue. They asked me to start keeping a log of his behaviors. Without a word, I went to my locker to get a notebook full of anecdotes of his behaviors. They forgot I used to do this for other students before. I got in exactly one and one half sentences in this meeting. I was interrupted twice. They said I wasn’t object because he made me his target for abuse and discounted what I had to say. I was furious at them. He wasn’t just beating me up but anyone he could. And while I wasn’t in love with this kid, I wanted to point out he could have potential if he was properly medicated. But I was discounted and ignored. I said “since administration has already decided I have nothing to add, I’ll go back to my job. But in parting-the boy needs a male assistant if for nothing else, just to get him dressed faster than to have me stand there and call for help.” A behavior plan was put together but never given to me. His educational program had to add back a one to one aide to allow that-and his mother didn’t like that idea. The teacher said he’s doing better, why does he need a plan and an aide? So that load of manure got poured right out. In May, the crisis team had to re-evaluate this kid. He took a swing at another crisis member-the calmest, most soft spoken person you could meet. When this kid couldn’t hit him, he grabbed a pen frim the staff members pocket and tried to stab him. This calm gentleman got angry. Screaming mad angry. Everyone stopped as we watched him take this kid to the crisis room. The team admitted this kid has a problem.In the beginning of June, we had a family day. Families were invited to come over for a day of play. This kid came with two sisters. The girls were beautiful little things with bruises and welts on their heads and arms. Anytime one had a toy, he grabbed it away. No fighting. The girls were very passive. My heart ached. But it didn’t surprise me a bit.At the end of June, I asked my principal to please assign me anywhere away from this kid. I told her I didn’t write a letter, email or throw myself on her desk one time this entire year. I did my job despite the fact that I had everything sabotaged and undermined. The principal sighed. I heard about it. She read through some of my reports. They were trying to train the teacher about how to manage behavioral issues, but she clearly wasn’t listening. I was taken out of that class and placed with another student. I thanked my principal profusely.Today, the boy no longer lives at home. It was becoming clearer that the older the boy got, the worse situations became. Mother admitted she tried to medicate her son, but he hit her and she was afraid of him. All I could think was if mother was afraid, what were the children thinking. The boy was placed in a group home where they spent two weeks taking him to doctors for evaluations and putting him on medication. I saw him in the School yard the other day, playing soccer. He was smiling (he never smiled unless he was hurting someone) and he was following directions. I was happy to see that there was a decent kid somewhere inside that other one. It was just terrible that they let him abuse staff and students that first year because the teacher was an idiot.