You remember last post when a girl in my class asked what to do if your friend was using drugs and or alcohol. There was a lively discussion and:
Then, from the middle of the classroom, Beth raised her hand. I nodded to her and she stood up. Strange, I thought. She must have been in a private school somewhere before this. I never saw a public school kid stand to answer a question.
There was something special about Beth. Unlike most of the other girls, she didn’t wear makeup. Her pale lips quivered slightly as she began to speak.
“Can I say something?” she asked softly. I nodded and she continued. “Most of you don’t know me very well. I just moved here from Maryland two months ago.” She turned and addressed the class. “Let me tell you what I think, but first let me tell you why I moved here. You’ll find out anyway.
“When I was living in Annapolis, both of my parents left for work before I went to school; so I just sat in the kitchen, bored, and waited for the bus. One Monday, after my folks had had a party the night
before, I thought I’d try some vodka. It was still sitting on the kitchen counter, so I poured myself a glassful. I can’t say I liked it, but I drank a pretty big glass of it, and by the time I got to school I was laughing, and everybody thought I was like a clown or something. I felt like, real popular, so after that I drank vodka every morning before school. It was easy because my folks always had a big liquor cabinet and they never seemed to miss what I drank. This continued for almost the whole year. It got to the point where I couldn’t pay attention and would fall asleep in class. Before long, my grades were shot and I was in trouble. My folks didn’t know what was going on until one day my friend said she had had enough of me destroying my life, so she called my mom. Then she told my homeroom teacher,
and she even called the police.”
By now Beth was in tears and the classroom was in a total hush. But she continued.
“The police were at my house when I got home from school. I was so scared I was shaking. If my folks hadn’t been there, I would have had my usual after-school drink. Boy, did I need one. I was in serious trouble and I knew it. My folks put me in a rehab center and I was so mad. I swore I would never talk to my friend again; I would find some way of getting even with her!
“But, revenge had to wait while I went to rehab. When I got out, all my former friends thought it was really funny that I had been in rehab. They made fun of me and some even tried to get me to drink again. I mean everyone except the friend who had called my mom. She tried to stick with me and help me, but I was still mad at her and wouldn’t even talk to her. The teachers didn’t trust me, and I was eventually asked to leave the private school I was attending because the headmaster said I was an embarrassment to the school.
“After a few months of Teen AA, I started to think about what my friend had done. She’d saved my life. I really had messed everything up. That’s why I moved down here to live with my grandparents. It was really awful; especially the way I treated my friend who really just wanted to help me. Before I moved here, I called her up and went to see her. We both cried for almost two hours. I thanked her a hundred times, and now I call her every night to thank her for what she did. So let me tell you what I think. I think … no, I know, that if your friend is using drugs or alcohol, you should tell her
parents, the school counselor, and the police!”
Then she broke into big sobs with tears rolling down her face and sat down trembling to a standing ovation from her classmates.
Beth’s new friends surrounded her at that point, and I couldn’t get close enough to tell her how brave I thought she was. Before I could establish order out of this chaos, the bell rang and the students dispersed, escorting their new heroine out of the room and out of my life. I sat at the desk waiting for the teacher to return, not knowing if I should tell her what had just happened or wait until she heard it through the grapevine. She returned with her usual enthusiasm and stopped in her tracks when she saw me staring into space.
“Were they that bad?” she asked.
“No,” I answered. “They were that good!”
Have your teens read the story then wait and see what they have to say. It might take a day or more. If they haven’t commented by the time the next post comes out ask them what they might have said to Beth after the bell rang. What would you have said?
Is teen alcoholism really a problem? Do kids in your local school drink? Find the answers to these and other questions on our next post.