Guru Lets Me In on a Joke

I pride myself on being able to get along with many different types of people, but I have to say getting along with Guru has been challenging from the very beginning. He has this very strange, "salt of the Earth" aura about him. He seems angry when he's not. He always wears sunglasses, even indoors. He yells, or slams down his hand on a table to begin a statement, then whispers the rest. The kids are both afraid of him and attracted to his mystical weirdness.

Guru taught me the expression "tip the house." If, say 4 or 5 kids are having tantrums at the same time, Guru would shout out, "Tip the house!" We would then know to bring all those kids into the Quiet Room together, as if we were tilting the house to one corner and the kids were marbles rolling into the Quiet Room, They would then receive the Guru treatment, which is about 2 hours of a silent Guru just staring as the kids would go through stages of yelling, fighting, and begging to come out and finally asking Guru if there was any way they could make up for their behavior as long as they could come out and relieve their overwhelming boredom.

Once, Guru was sitting with a few kids in the Quiet Room and I went to check in on him. I opened the door and found all the kids screaming and cussing at a seemingly oblivious Guru. Guru was wearing his "denim armor:" jean pants, denim longsleeve shirt, denim jacket, heavy black boots and a beanie cap.

I said, "Guru aren't you a little warm in here? Do you want to take a break?"

He exploded, "I LIKE IT HOT!" and then whispered, "No breaks. The only way to know what you're dealing with is when the kids are hot. It's the most productive part of the day. NO BREAKS!" and he just stared at me, or through me, from behind his sunglasses.

At the time I had no idea what the hell he was talking about, but now, years of experience later, I do. For the most part, the kids repeat abusive behaviors that have been perpetrated on them, so when they have tantrums, or act out, it is usually a reflection of their previous abuse. When kids are "hot," the experienced counselor may realize that the kid is telling a story, in a strange way, of his life. He is letting you see the core of his turmoil.

It was a particularly "hot" time for a lot of boys across campus, so there was a lot of extra staff on hand to help out with the many outbreaks and eruptions of anger and violence. There were even a few administrators making the rounds, checking in and helping out. On this particular afternoon, Pete Post had dropped in and, since we had become "buddies" at the job fair, had decided to hang around with me as I prepared the boys a snack of chocolate pudding. Most of the boys were standing around the kitchen counter waiting as Pete Post was casually conversing with me.

"I think, to a large extent, that these fellows would respond in a much more healthy way during crises if their caretakers would display care and respect to them. Specifically, why do we put hands on, restrain and hold the kids down in order to teach them that fighting is wrong? Aren't we just perpetuating a cycle? These boys aren't unintelligent and if approached with intelligent and caring adults, they will respond in kind."

I said, "Okay Pete, but how long will the learning period be before the kids realize you are showing respect? Because that's the length of time that staff is going to be risking injury." I grabbed a banana. "Here, hand this to Richard."

Pete handed the banana to Richard. Richard was incredulous. "Why I gotta eat this? Gimme some pudding."

I said to Richard, "You know you have a week of snack restriction for stealing that box of Klondike bars and hiding them in your laundry basket."

Richard yelled at me, "I told you I didn't do that. My roommate set me up!"

"Next time you steal ice cream, eat it before it melts. That way next time staff does your laundry, we can't catch you with melted ice cream all over your clothes."

Richard exploded, "All y'all staff be lying bitches. I'monna hoo-ride this banana upside yo head, mutha-fucka!"

He was approaching Pete, banana held high. The rest of the boys quickly grabbed their puddings and got out of the way.

Pete said to Richard, "I think even you could agree that I cannot be the target of your ire."

Richard was about to hit Pete with the banana when, with a swiftness not seen in such big men, Guru appeared behind Richard and grabbed him by the arms.

"Not on my shift, not today." He looked at Pete. "Supervisor's office."

Pete followed Guru and Richard, who was flailing and trying to kick Guru, into the supervisor's office and shut the door.

One of the boys, Brian, said to me, "Stokie, have you ever been assaulted by a banana?"

Freddie, the sexual predator yelled from his permanent station, the living room table, "Whoa guy!"

Brian mumbled under his breath, "You fuckin' faggot, I didn't mean it like that."

I heard the door of the supervisor's office open up. It was Guru. He clapped his hands once, with surprising volume. "MR. JAYE!" He then spoke very softly, "I need some help with a problem. Can you assist me in here?"

I thought that they needed more help in restraining Richard, after all he was a pretty big kid. I ran over to Guru. "Let's go," I said as I opened the door and walked in.

I saw Pete Post and Richard both sitting on the couch. Pete sat with his legs folded with a smug, half-grin on his face. Richard was livid, red with anger. He had squashed the banana in his hands and had banana bits all over his hands and arms. He was yelling at Pete Post, "I'monna fuck you up bitch!" He hawked a loogie and spat in Pete's face.

I stepped forward in anticipation of Guru and I taking Richard and placing him in a prone restraint on the floor.
Just as soon as I moved, I heard Guru from behind me, "UH-UH. Come here."

He was in his familiar squat position. I was confused as to why Guru seemed uninterested in Richard's violence toward Pete. I though he liked it hot. I stepped over to him and turned to look at Richard and Pete Post.

Pete said to Richard, "You see Richard, I realize that you aren't really angry at me, are you?"

Richard scooped some banana bits from his arm and flung it into Pete's hair.

"I respect the fact that you are angry, however, spitting and throwing fruit at me will not address the issue."

Richard hawked another loogie and spat at Pete. It landed on Pete's purple, knit 80's tie.

"What I'm hearing you say is that you don't want a banana for snack." Richard spat at Pete, hitting him in the face.

"I hear your anger, Richard, and I respect it."

Hawk, ptew. Another face shot.

"This is no way to engage an adult, Richard. Now spit and banana can wash off easily. What's more important is that you know I care about you."

I said quietly, "What the fuck...?" I looked down at Guru who stared blankly at the proceedings. I looked at Pete Post who was being covered in spit and banana bits. I slowly squatted down with Guru. I whispered, "Looks like our hands-off approach still has a few bugs to be worked out."

Guru said, "You've already spent too much time off the floor. You got important things to do. Please inform our teammates that Pete Post is leading a seminar on the hands-off approach in here. I'm sure they would appreciate the education if you would ask them to rotate in here."

"It would be less than supportive of me to block our teammates from a teachable moment. I'll let them know right now."

It was a rare moment when I was able to appreciate Guru's subtle display of charm.

Intro, Part 3: Training Day

I had been working at the group home for about a week now. I was just beginning to learn the language, the routines, the names, the schedule, basic protocol. I was helping Jimmy fold some towels that had just come out of the dryer. I took a stack of them in my arms and walked toward the linen closet. As I walked past Richard, I saw, as if in slow motion, his balled fist rear back and roar toward me. Richard stepped into the punch as it blasted into my mouth. Towels went flying. I stumbled backward with the force of the punch. I was dizzy. The numbness wore off in a few seconds and I felt loose teeth and two holes in my top lip. Blood was rushing out of it as it swelled.

Richard began screaming as if it were still the same afternoon a week ago when Guru and I held him down on the floor.

"Yeah, now what? You said I won't! You said I won't! Motherfucker said I won't. Now what?"

I was stunned. I yelled to Guru. "He just assaulted me! We gotta prone him. We should call the sheriff and have him cited. C'mon, let's put him in the Quiet Room!"

Guru didn't move. He stared at me, or through me, and just whispered in his insane, cocky, smoke-infested voice, "You said he wouldn't. You didn't listen."

Richard went to bed. Guru silently wrote in his logs. I iced my face and contemplated just how seriously unbalanced I would have to be, anyone would have to be, to work here.

Intro, Part 2: My First Day

Here's the agency's philosophy for training new staff: if the new employee makes it through his first 24 hour observation shift without running out the door screaming or hitting a kid, that staff may, at some point in the future, merit some kind of agency-sponsored training seminar. So, usually from the first shift on through the first several weeks, the new hire is not trained on topics such as who these kids are and what their special needs may be, how to legally and appropriately physically restrain a kid, how to know when a kid is showing signs of stress or acting out, the daily schedule and what is considered proper communication between staff.

The new hire is thrown into a sink-or-swim situation where he or she must rely on instinct and split-second judgment, and believe me, I have seen many more staff sink than swim on their first day.

So when I pulled up to the group home, tucked away among the quiet foothills of an immense piece of property, I was filled with an honest sense of pride that I was going to help the helpless and, by doing that, become stronger myself. I would give the kids a strong hand up, enhance their creativity, stimulate their intelligence, solidify their spirit.

Looking back now I think Flip Joseph may have had a point. Maybe I did smoke a lot of weed in college because I was totally deluded and unprepared for what I was to encounter.

As I approached the group home, I saw three boys and one staff outside. One boy of Chinese descent was trying to ride a bike with a flat tire and no chain. This didn't seem to be discouraging him. When he walked, it appeared as if his bones were fused in his hips (this turned out to be true) because he would waddle, ass gyrating and twisting side to side.

The other two boys, both black, were having a nice game of three flies up using a wadded up ball of duct tape and an old tennis racquet. Whenever the Chinese boy turned his back, the other two would suck their bottom lip in and stick out their top teeth and mimic the sexy ass-gyration of the Chinese boy.

The staff was one large black man, about forty, wearing a caftan, necklaces and had four little beaded braids dangling from the back of his afro. He sat quietly and smoked, apparently oblivious of the boys' teasing. I approached with my hand held out.

"Hi my name's Stokie and Flip Joseph said to come here and do the 24 hour thing..."

He bellowed, "LET'S HUDDLE UP!" I looked at the kids but they just carried on about their business. To say that this man avoided eye contact would be misleading. He looked through me, a thousand yards away, as only a Viet Nam vet or a Death Row inmate can.

As I stepped toward him to shake his hand, he quickly squatted down, ignoring my hand and perched his elbow on his knee. He took a long drag on his cigarette. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to actually squat down with him. He wasn't saying anything yet. I bent over and put my hands on my knees in a tenuous half-squat.

Then, he whispered, "They call me Guru. You can call me what you want. But if you listen, you'll find that the name is not unwarranted. If you listen, you won't get hurt. If you communicate with your team, you won't get hurt. Always check in. Never do anything on your own. You don't mean anything right now. See how these boys are testing you already?"

I looked but could not see the boys doing anything differently. Guru continued his whisper. "Here are three boys who take a loyalty oath any time someone different cooks dinner. Here are three boys who haven't learned the difference between love and a cold-cock. So who is to tell me when I can and can't address these boys when they tease each other."

He paused. Then he boomed, "I'VE BEEN HERE 13 YEARS!" He stared at me and slowly widened his eyes to emphasize this last point. Back to the whisper. "Choose your battles carefully."

I thought, this is nonsense. But it's intimidating nonsense.

I entered the house and met my other two teammates, a woman named Katrina and a big white guy with a flat-top named Toby. I walked around the house and introduced myself to the boys. Most were waiting on their beds. One of them yelled to me.

"Staff, Staff! I need help. There's a big-ass spider in my room and I don't know what to do."

I asked him, "Where is it?" He pointed to the far corner of his room.

I walked over to step on the spider but couldn't see it. I bent over to look.

Then I heard, "Now I gotcha! I wanna see you bouncing on my dick!" He was standing in his doorway with his hands blocking my way.

"C'mon, man, let me through."

"Not until I see you bouncing on my dick!"

I panicked. All I could think of to say was, "That's not right, that's not right!" I lowered my shoulders and ran. I hit him full force and knocked him to the ground and ran out into the middle of the living room, panting. The kid was laughing like it was fun.

Toby, the staff, said, "Hey, Stokie, I was looking for you. Make sure you tell the other staff where you are all the time. You never know what these guys are gonna do next. Now, your assignment this afternoon is to help Guru run 'community group.'"

I sat on one of the two chairs, which was placed in front of three couches arranged in a semi-circle. Guru sat beside me. He hollered, "COMMUNITY GROUP!" Then whispered, "Have a seat on the couch."

Nine of the boys sat on the couches. For some reason the tenth boy sat in a chair all by himself about 12 feet away from the rest of the group. I asked him if he could come join us here in Community Group. He said, "I have to sit on station."

The other boys all murmured, "sexual...whoa guy...booty-buster". I looked at Guru. He sat stone-faced, staring at something a thousand yards away. The boys continued to titter and make hand gestures at the expense of the isolated boy.

The boy looked at me and asked, "Can you tell them to stop provoking me?"

I didn't know what he meant. "Provoking you? Provoke you to do what? What are you talking about?"

The other boys started with a chorus of "Serve it...syrup...serp, serp, serp."

Guru sat like a statue but started to whisper, "That's not what I'm looking for, that's not what I'm looking for..." until the boys began to quiet down. As Guru went over the schedule for that day, one of the boys, sitting with his hands in his lap, was looking at me while pointing at something. He kept wiggling his index finger up and down. I kept looking around to see what he was pointing at. Finally, I realized that he was pretending to be waving around his dick. I couldn't believe it and I started to laugh.

Guru stopped and looked at me. I fumbled for words, "That kid right there...he's doing something...what are you doing...he's making penis gestures!"

The offending boy yelled, "Whoa guy! I'm not like that. That new staff gots issues. He's sexual."

As I was trying to make sense of this, Guru began to wrap up group. "Now. Acknowledgements. Respectfully. Jimmy."

Jimmy began. "I'd like to acknowledge Guru for being hecka-tight. I'd like to acknowledge new staff, I don't know why. I'd like to acknowledge myself for staying in group and not blowing out even though I want to."

It was Jose's turn. "I pass".

It was Jesse's turn. "I'd like to acknowledge myself for staying in group. And dinner. What's for dinner?"

It was Richard's turn. "I'd like to acknowledge Jesse's mom for being HELLLLLLLLA-FAT!"

I wasn't really sure what happened next. An explosion of boys, screaming, punching, crying and running. I jumped into the middle of the pandemonium to try to break up all the fighting but found myself rolling around the bottom of the pile, getting hit, stepped on and elbowed.

Guru grabbed me and threw me on top of Richard. "Hold his arms and kneel on his legs like this." He got on top of Richard and I grabbed and knelt on Richard the way he told me to. Guru's side of Richard was perfectly still, secure. But Richard was really fighting on my side. I kept losing my grip of his arm and Richard would flail and punch me relentlessly.

Finally, I was able to secure him, but I was sweaty, panting, scared and mad. I wanted to kick the shit out of this kid. I was there to help him, not fight him. What the hell kind of job is this?

Richard never stopped struggling. During this marathon, he kept accusing me of twisting his arm, abusing him somehow. Every time I would try to talk to him, he would scream, "You motherfuckin sexual ape-man. I'm gonna sock you in the mouth, wardie, I'm gonna sock you in the mouth. Say I won't wardie, say I won't!"

Well, this went on for an hour. I was sick to my stomach and I wanted to kill Richard. I wanted to kill Guru. He wasn't helping me! He just knelt down there saying nothing, kicking back easy as can be while I was fighting and sweating. I thought the kid was the biggest idiot on the planet. What's he going to do, hit me while we have him held face down on the carpet?

"Say I won't, niggerachi, say I won't!"

I had it. Time to set a limit. Show him who's boss. "You won't!"

Guru turned to me, looked me in the eyes and slowly shook his head.

"That's it, shit-head, I'm gonna sock you in the motherfuckin' mouth! You heard it! He said I won't. He said I won't!"

Richard struggled and fought for 2 more hours until he was exhausted. Hell, I was exhausted. I was sweaty, confused, and tired. I thought, as most of us think after our first shift, "This will last about three months. Then I'll get a reference and get the fuck out of here."

But at least I won. I wore him down. I said he wouldn't and he didn't. At least I had that small triumph.