This afternoon it was just D and me at home. He was napping which meant I could get caught up on some phone calls, reading, cleaning house, and planning lessons. Normally, I try to fill every available space I have with work, chores, or playing with my boys.
It’s very rare I just sit and do nothing for an afternoon. I made a few calls, put some dishes in the dishwasher, but then I decided I was entitled to have an afternoon of rest. It is the Sabbath, after all. I grabbed the remote and began flipping channels. I came across the movie Precious.
I remember seeing ads for it when it was in the theatres. We have a copy of the book it is based on Push. My husband read it and found it to be captivating and disturbing all at the same time. I read a little and was so troubled I couldn’t read anymore.
The atrocities this main character, Precious, endured are without adequate words. Abuse, incest, ….pretty much any horrible thing you could imagine happening to a child, it happened to Precious.
As you can tell from my previous posts, when I watch and write about a movie, I analyze it. However, the heavy and disturbing content of this movie left me unable to do so. I became so angry at the many adults who failed this teenager that I could not be objective.
Then I began thinking of the many students I have taught in my career. I prayed none of them had ever endured such a home life. I hoped that I would be the beacon of hope and encouragement Precious’s alternative school teacher was for her. I thought about the way Precious would have outbursts of anger, and I was able to see it was simply a manifestation of the crappy home she had and the abuse she endured. I couldn’t help but reflect on the students I’ve had who have appeared angry and wondered if the cause was a home situation I was unaware of.
Sad. That’s how I felt watching this movie. Regardless, it is an amazing movie that helps us to remember that not every home is a supportive, encouraging one. In fact, some homes are nothing short of hell. I am so appreciative for the home I grew up in and the awesome parents I have. Sometimes I feel like a total failure as a parent, but even in the midst of my shortcomings, I feel confident that my boys know I love them. Perhaps, then, I’m not a failure at all.