Mandated Reporters

By Kira Rodriguez

Lesson six:

Know what criteria warrant a report to the SCR.

He came in again, talking about the fight mommy and daddy had. Grandma had dropped him off. That's when Ms. Mandy knew it was bad. He didn't care, though. Grandma was in town for a few days. His shirt was too short, his shoes too tight, and his hair was glistening with grease that hadn’t come from a bottle. Grandma said goodbye and he ran off to play with his friends. Ms. Mandy asked another teacher to watch the six kids running around the four’s room while she grabbed the nail clippers, a spare change of clothes, and a towel with some soap from the supply closet. She fixed her long ponytail into a bun, her hair starting to grey at the roots. She started working in the four-year-old room a year ago. She loved the little ones, but her daughter said it was time to switch rooms when Ms. Mandy nearly threw out her back picking up her ten-month-old grandson. Working with the four-year-olds would be easier.

This was the second sponge bath Ms. Mandy gave him this week and it wasn’t even Thursday. Silas always needed his nails cut, always needed new underwear, always needed pants without holes. Dad said they were struggling with the new baby at home, said he knew they weren’t ready for another, but his girlfriend got pregnant. Together for the kids. That’s why there wasn’t a ring on her finger, that's why he didn't live there anymore. Ms. Mandy bought new clothes for Silas, including two outfits to keep in the storage room and two outfits to send home with Dad, along with a package of new underwear and a fifty-dollar gift card to Walmart that she and the other teachers had pitched in for, so Dad could buy baby clothes and diapers. 

Ms. Mandy undressed Silas in the nicer bathroom upstairs, washing the oil and flakes of dead skin out of his hair and scrubbing his arms and legs with a washcloth as he stood on the toilet. She turned him around. A large bruise sat just below his shoulder blade on his back. Grandma never said anything about the bruise. His legs and arms were usually covered in bruises in places that mostly seemed normal. Mom said he fell out of bed, tripped over his truck while running through the house, fell while climbing on the couch. The bruise under his eye was gone now. She asked Silas about the bruise, lightly pressing on it.

“Mommy said I got it when I fell off my scooter.”

“When did you fall?” She asked, taking out her phone to take a picture.

“I didn’t fall. That’s what Mommy told Daddy.”

Ms. Mandy pulled the clean shirt over his head and his new underwear over his bottom, helping him off the toilet. She sent the photo to her boss, Ms. Ruth, adding it to the collection of photos from the last three weeks.

Silas ran to his friends, nearly skipping along with a smile wide on his face, not understanding why he was getting a bath at school. It was a regular thing, something that made him special, different. He thought it was a good thing; special attention made him cool among some of his friends and disliked by others. He didn’t know the real reason Ms. Mandy brought him to the special bathroom upstairs, the one meant for the adults. He played, knocking over the tower his friend was building and laughing, running off to play cars with Josh, who had just been dropped off. 

Ms. Ruth came downstairs, a look on her face as she held her phone. Ms. Mandy shook her head, switching places with her. Ms. Ruth went and played with Silas and Josh, a few other kids crawled over to see why Ms. Ruth, the big boss, was playing with them. Ms. Mandy walked upstairs to the wall phone with the list of numbers, tracing the laminated page with her finger until she landed on the phone number for the SCR, the New York State Central Register. She would stay late tonight to fill out the LDSS-221A form, the form for child abuse. 

Lesson seven:

A smile goes a long way. 

Ms. Liv, as the kids had come to know her, brought Ellie Lowe down from the one’s room. She rested on Liv’s hip, lightly tapping her foot on Liv’s small baby bump. Ellie was nearly two now, but still had the rosy cheeks she had when Ms. Mandy first met her. Silas came running out of the gym just as Dad opened the front door. Ms. Mandy called for them as she watched Dad the moment he parked. She knew him; she knew all the parents.

“Daddy!” 

“Hey, bud!”

Silas ran up to him, his arms open wide, allowing Dad to easily scoop him up. Ellie wasn’t far behind, waddling up to them with her arms just as wide. She carried a tattered red dinosaur in her hand, one that had seen much love.

Dad helped Ellie pull on her sweatshirt as he explained that it was Mom’s weekend, that he was going to drop them off at Auntie’s, where Mom now lived. She wasn’t allowed to be alone with Silas and Ellie, and hasn’t been for nearly two years. Ms. Mandy knew never to let either of them leave with her alone; they all knew. 

“Thanks again, guys,” Dad said with a smile.

“Of course. Have a fun weekend,” Ms. Mandy said, standing in the doorway. Her arms were crossed, her smile not as bright. 

Liv leaned against the doorway beside her, waiting for her son to come running out of the gym. She looked at Ms. Mandy. She knew what day it was. Ms. Mandy had told her years ago. She was the only one Ms. Mandy told. Liv held her hand and rested her head on Ms. Mandy’s shoulder. 

“Oh! I made something for you,” Silas said, handing Ms. Mandy a card. On the front was a large heart, red and glittery. There were a few smaller hearts and stars around it. She opened it, seeing a drawing of two stick kids with a bigger sick figure with blonde hair.

“Is this me?”

“Yeah! You, me, and Ellie, see? She is holding her dino,” he said with a smile. “I made it at school for Teacher Appreciation Week.”

“I love it, thank you,” Ms. Mandy said, kneeling to hug Silas. “You have made my day.”

Silas left, skipping along with Ellie, who was trying to keep up. Dad walked behind them, yelling for Silas to slow down so Ellie wouldn’t trip.

“I’m going to close the one’s room and head home,” Liz said. “Call if you need me.”

Ms. Mandy nodded and returned to the counter, the binder open to the names of the last two kinds in her room, ready to mark down the time they were picked up when the time came. She leaned on the counter with her phone out, the calendar app reminding her it was Lucy-Rose’s birthday.

FINIS