Julissa Salazar, 14, an eighth grader at Live Oak Middle School, wrote this poem from the perspective of a student experiencing the “School-To-Prison” pipeline.
Why am I not wanted by my school?
And put aside,
My needs unaddressed,
Sent to the office,
Arrested,
Put in handcuffs,
Thrown into the police car,
Now Momma’s crying,
Dad’s crying,
I’m crying.
Why am I not wanted by my school?
I feel trapped in the walls of security,
Slowly suffocating day by day,
Or should I say my school,
A place that should feel like a home,
To grow and learn.
But no,
That isn’t the case,
You’re just greeted with an agitated dog sniffing for drugs.
Bloodshot eyes locking contact with you.
Barks and
Drool slipping out the mouth like a waterfall.
Police running the metal detectors,
Staring at you every move
I can only ponder my eyes on the weapons they carry in their pockets,
Sitting there,
Being there.
Why should a weapon that causes too much pain be in the hands of someone on school grounds?
Praying,
It won’t be used on me,
Praying I won’t be next,
I didn’t do anything,
But sometimes there can be no motive and you still get bashed against the cold,
concrete,
floor,
pressing against your delicate skin.
“Hands behind your back,”
They say,
Blood dripping off your face,
People crowding the scene,
Murmuring, “You deserve it,”
Murmuring, “Who are they,”
Why them,
Accusing me with their eyes,
People looking,
People whispering.
They say you’re misbehaving,
“Go to the office,”
Get arrested,
They say that you talked back,
“Go to the office,”
Get arrested,
They say you’re disruptive,
No I just don’t understand,
Please try harder and don’t give up on me,
I’m still worth it.
Don’t you ever consider if I left school with a empty stomach,
No food in the fridge,
My stomach wanting food,
Making noise in class,
I’m confused in the lesson,
So I occupy my time,
Talking,
Waiting,
Wondering,
Until someone,
Just someone
Understands,
The struggle.
Why’s the color of my skin targeting me?
I was born this way,
Why’s my disability an issue,
I was born this way.
I ask myself,
Is there hope,
If no hope
Is there?
I’m put in court,
Buttoned up,
Hair slicked back,
Eyes watering,
Dripping from my cheek,
I plead guilty.
Eyes looking at me from every direction,
It was all a blur,
But the screams of my parents,
And the aggressive bang of the gravel,
Were ingrained in my head,
I remember the grip of security escorting me to juvy,
I’m 13,
Only 13 years of my life,
And some going to waste,
Life is going to waste.
I’m sitting on the bunk of the jail cell,
Engraving the days till my incarceration is over,
Imagining the warmth of my parents’ hugs,
And how the fresh air would smell,
And how the breeze would touch my skin.
The feeling of freedom,
The feeling of tranquility,
The feeling of positivity,
The feeling of knowing what’s next.
What is next,
What’s next?
shouldn’t it be crystal clear,
But that wasn’t the case for me,
See,
Many adolescent have to go through,
Dropout,
Arrest,
Anxiety,
No more self esteem,
Because the steam that fueled me failed to help me.
Millions of students with potential get pushed away,
Suspended,
Locked away,
Thrown away.
Incrimination of the youth,
Is not the way for a better
World.
Incrimination of the youth,
Does not do any good.
This discipline is next level absurd.
Why is it this way?
Why is it this way?
Why is it this way?
This crushes families,
Ruins relationships,
Discourages kids to want to learn,
Because they know that no one’s there for them in school.
In 10 years,
120 months and
87,600 hours,
I hope,
There are going to be schools that don’t fail their students.
And not worry about insufficient funding.
In 10 years,
120 months and
87,600 hours,
I hope
Kids won’t be late to class because security measures make them late to school.
They won’t fear school anymore,
They won’t feel discouraged anymore,
For how they look or are capable of.
School will feel like a haven of learning,
School will feel secure,
School will feel exciting,
School will feel hopeful.
Why am I not wanted by my school?
PV Staff