By Tracy Record
West Seattle Blog editor
Nineteen days ago, police cars and fire/medical units filled southbound Delridge Way, for a short time, outside Southwest Youth and Family Services.
SWYFS is this area’s lead agency for the city’s new Youth Violence Prevention Initiative, so there was uncomfortable irony in the fact those emergency units were there because one of its classrooms had become the scene of an act of youth violence: One boy stabbed another, both 17, after an argument.
The victim was rushed off to Harborview Medical Center; the alleged attacker was led off by police. The incident drew citywide media attention – but since it was quickly determined that victim and attacker knew each other, and that the victim would survive, the attention ebbed after a day.
Since then, though, what happened has been a daily reality for the students in the blended-grade high-school classes at Southwest Education Center – getting updates on their wounded classmate.
Until Thursday, when he returned to school, and told his story as part of an unusual group interview offered to WSB, unsolicited, by SWYFS.
The Southwest Education Center is described on the SWYFS website as “(f)or students who have dropped out of school, been expelled, or have just fallen behind.” We had last visited its classrooms for a photo op six months ago, when a local union made a big donation to SWYFS.
When I arrived at SWYFS HQ on Thursday for the appointment we made by e-mail a week earlier, I didn’t know the student – we’re not using names in this story to protect privacy, so we’ll call him S (not his actual initial) for survivor – would be there. Leaders at SWYFS had originally e-mailed WSB wondering if we would be interested in a followup on the incident, saying SWEC students were worried it had left the community with the wrong impression of them and their program.
Thursday morning at 10, about an hour after the SWEC school day began, SWYFS executive director Steve Daschle brought me downstairs, where I was invited to sit down in front of a classroom full of about two dozen teenagers and ask whatever I wanted.
Quickly, it became clear they had a lot to say about what happened the morning of October 27.
“Counselors and teachers talked with us for about an hour (afterward), said if we had any problems we could talk one on one,” one student began.
Then the surprise – S himself was in the room.
“It was shocking to me that something like that happened, from a friend you know, it was shocking, that’s all I can say.” But he wanted to say more: “I’m doing great, I feel safe here, I have lots of friends here.”
He was in the hospital for a week, he said, adding that he was in worse shape than news reports suggested: “On the news, my parents said, they said, minor stab wounds to the back of the leg – not true, it was more severe than that. It made everything seem like it was little, when it was pretty serious.”
“He had a punctured lung,” interjected a classmate from across the room.
“Yeah, they had to put me on a breathing machine,” said S, who, we’ll tell you, looked none the worse for wear, at least, as he was sitting behind a desk about 10 feet from my spot in front of the classroom.
I explained that federal privacy laws keep media organizations from being able to get details on people in the hospital most of the time – even if they’re not juveniles – so the incomplete information may have been all they could get; we had nothing that day beyond “not life-threatening.”
His classmates got some updates, though. Some, directly from the source. “He called us every day from the hospital,” a classmate said.
“We were waiting for him to come back,” said another. “And we knew he was coming back. Today, he’s here.”
Nobody had dropped out or been pulled out of the program because of the incident, the students said. Their attitude seemed to be, that wouldn’t have made any sense. “Here, there’s no drama,” says one, when I prod for what’s distinctive about the program. “Everyone gets along, most of us. Usually – besides the thing that happened – everybody’s close with each other. You’re not coming for drama, you’re coming to learn stuff.”
“We argue,” interrupts another, “but we argue in a good way, in a discussion to see what’s right or what’s wrong.”
“Debating,” a classmate tries to correct.
“No, I like to say arguing, that’s really intense,” laughs the first one. And everyone laughs with him.
Conflict is what led to the stabbing. But S said that lessons learned at SWYFS about resolving conflict kept it from escalating:
“It happened so fast – I didn’t overreact – I learned here about anger management – if I hadn’t been here and this had happened five months ago, I would have probably picked up the knife and stabbed him back. The A.R.T. [Aggression Replacement Training] here taught me so much. I had the opportunity – and said ‘that’s not the right thing to do’.”
“He was on the phone calling people,” one of his classmates calls from the corner — making calls, till help arrived.
But lest you think this is a school full of kids getting A.R.T. (etc.) because they’ve all been in trouble or made trouble – think again. I asked the group what they’d say if someone assumed they are delinquents, dropouts.
“That’s the opposite of what we’re doing – we’re persistent, we’re motivated, or else we wouldn’t be coming here,” one student counters.
S has something to say on this too: “We’re here because we need more help, good support systems. Maybe the school we went to wasn’t the best for us … We’re not here because we’re bad kids and we need help. We’re here because we want help.”
Another: “We want a second chance. Everybody’s here mostly for the same reason – this school’s here because (regular) high school didn’t work out.”
The SWEC is “in some way better,” it’s also offered. “I have teachers who help me understand what I’m doing, can help me with the future.” Smaller class size, someone else points out.
A student who hadn’t spoken before: “I know why I’m here. I want my diploma. I want what’s better for (my family) and me. I won’t consider someone else any better just because they’re in a (regular) high school and I go to an alternative school. I probably get more help and understand a lot more (here).”
We asked what grade she’s in – senior, graduating this year. SWEC isn’t a full program – students attend classes there for a while, then transition back out. As S explained it, “You can do a year here, and once you get a certain amount of credits, you have to move on to a regular high school.”
Another of his classmates: “I think there should be more places like this for kids who fall between the cracks and struggle through life … I think places like this are better and help people understand what they believe in. We can learn life skills here, there are people to give us advice, get on the right path, check up on us.”
And: “A teacher might ask, what’s going on, what did you do this weekend – most of us ain’t used to that because teachers (elsewhere) don’t care.”
Attending class in a relatively small group – enrollment in the dozens rather than the 1,000+ of most high schools – has led them to care, and know, more about each other, too, they say.
“Not that many problems – there can’t be any rumors when you’re in the next room over!” Laughter throughout the room.
But then, there was October 27, to which the talk on Thursday morning turned again and again.
A flash of resentment from one student. “Just because of someone’s mistakes, of that incident, that day, we shouldn’t be judged on that serious incident that happened. Doesn’t mean the rest of us are gonna do something like that. One person did something stupid and the rest of us are suffering for it.”
So, the student who was stabbed recovered and returned. What else do you know about what is happening in the incident’s aftermath? I asked.
Not much, they said, maybe some hearsay, maybe, they heard, the student – who’s been expelled – would be “getting out soon.” (We don’t have current information on the case status but will be checking with prosecutors.) They also wondered if police had talked to enough of them the day it happened.
Do you think you SHOULD have more information about the case, then? was my followup.
“Well, not if he’s a juvenile,” was the quick reply. S disagreed, saying he needs to know if he’s going to encounter the other boy somewhere, sometime, away from school.
“So (if you do), run,” a classmate says. “I can’t run,” he counters, “my lung was punctured.” But he repeats that overall, he feels safe – the school and his family have both taken steps to make sure he’s protected.
When the conversation ebbed, I asked if there is anything else they want people to know – about the school, about the incident, pretty much anything.
A boy in the corner who had spoken frequently during the preceding half-hour said yes, there’s something he wants me to report in this story: “Can you make sure you specify that both the youths involved were Caucasian? I have nothing against white people or anything, but I think a lot of people’s perception of this situation would change if they knew it was two Caucasian youths. And neither was really a wanna-be gangster – he,” indicating S, “is a regular guy, Mr. Rock ‘n’ Roll.”
S – who acknowledges he plays and writes music – says, “That’s like, awareness (violence) could happen at any time, you gotta be careful who you’re talking to and what you say.”
The previous explanation then resumes: “They’re not no gangbangers – no colors, don’t talk (bad) about anybody, they don’t do graffiti — that I know of — don’t listen to rap music.”
“Hey, I listen to some rap music!” S interrupts.
“He’s got a Metallica T-shirt, you think he’s a gang member?” the outspoken classmate points out. “He got stabbed, he survived, he’s gonna make a song about this.”
S wants to bring it back to the other point: “People need to know it’s a great school. Otherwise I wouldn’t be coming back here if I don’t feel safe.”
Not only didn’t anyone drop out, the class says, “everybody was here the next day.”
Except, of course, S. But he’s back now.
While the students did the talking for most of my visit – with the staffers, including director Daschle, standing by but never interrupting – a teacher, Matt, did want to say something before we wrapped up. He spoke in support of the young man who thought it was important to mention the ethnicity of the boys involved. “This was not just another story of out-of-control gang violence on Delridge – it was a lot more complicated.”
As, it seems, if you get the chance to look beyond the surface – a rare chance like this – it often is.
On Tuesday at Chief Sealth High School, some Southwest Education Center students are expected to speak at a youth-violence-prevention meeting, where SWYFS staffers say they’ll be working to build community relationships – no doubt hoping it’ll be a long time before they encounter the officers and the medics again.
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