Manic Monday

Monday mornings start early around my household. The alarm goes off at 6:30, I have to shower, dress, take my daughter to school, and be at the Juvenile Detention Center by 8:00 AM. Like most Mondays, this morning went off without a hitch. Shower, check. Get ready, check. Daughter to school, check. Arrival at the Juvie, check. All hell breaks loose, check. For those of you not familiar with our penal system, juvenile detention centers are NOT jail, they are simply a holding area for troubled kids, or troubled kids with equally troubled parents that shouldn't have had them in the first place. The latter unfortunately makes up the majority of the kids I routinely see.

I had just settled into my rolling chair in the clinic, when an emergency call came over the phone that a fight had broken loose on Unit A, (the unit for female and "nice male" detainees), and that a resident had to be physically restrained on Unit B, (the unit for the traditional male detainees). After the nurse on duty went and examined the residents in said incidents, they were brought to me for medical clearance to return to normal activity. Aside from a few bruises, both kids were fine. In fact, the male detainee told me that "a man can only be pushed so far before he just kicks someone in the crotch." While this logic is very true, I found it fairly amusing that this "man" was 13 and his voiced cracked twice during that sentence. If you step back from this situation, however, it's actually a fairly sad one. This 13 year old kid's parents called the cops on him because he got in a fight with his dad. Granted, he did take a box cutter and "rough the old man up," but only after his dad, in a drunken fit, choked him, and gave him a black eye.

The Juvie is littered with this type of family dynamic. Kids having kids of their own, getting angry, taking it out on their children, who in turn rebel, get pregnant and perpetuate the cycle. Entire families have grown up in that place, with the counselors and social workers acting more like parents, and the detainees themselves growing in a close-knit household of urban dysfunction.

Fortunately, the rest of the morning was uncomplicated. After giving a lecture on safe sex, and treating a case of strep throat, I drove to my Monday afternoon job - Disability Physicals. Highlights from this afternoon's claimants included the following statements.

"I can't drive no more because my ex-boyfriend burned up my car and my stereo"

"I hear voices and music. The voices don't bother me, but the music...I hate it."

Previous employment: Fast-food daycare



If someone can please explain to me the last one, I would greatly appreciate it.



Until next time,

DD