Why I Don't Drink

Soon after I joined TFA, I realized that many of my fellow teachers were very passionate about the art of partying. As a recent graduate from a small, Christian liberal arts college, I was simply appalled by their behavior and was quick to shoot down offers to join in their revelry. As a result, I earned the reputation as social pariah and the official fun-sucker of the corps.

When I returned to Houston this summer, I decided I would take a different approach. Because the majority of school socials that were arranged by our staff centered around alcohol, I found that to hang out with the new corps members, I had to attend these outings. Because visibility as a staff member was important to me, I decided to attend these events anyway, despite the presence/focus of alcohol.

It didn't take long for my CMs to notice that I didn't drink. I had several responses prepared for these questions, each of which was applied according to one's sobriety level. For those sober enough to listen, I told them about how alcohol was responsible for the bruises on my kids' arms or the death of my baby's uncle. Alcohol meant that R's dad couldn't hold down a job or that S's mom was beaten within an inch of her life. I don't drink because I promised the children of Room 170 that as long as I was a teacher, I would never drink. It is a promise that I have kept and will continue to honor.

On the night I returned to Kyle, I was reminded of that promise. I wish those CMs had been able to see what I saw that night for if they had, I would hope that they would be a bit slower to run to the bottle. Here is what happened...

My Lakota family had picked me up from the airport late that afternoon. Because we were all in need of supplies, we stocked up in Rapid. It was very late by the time we got to Kyle, so I decided to spend the night at their place in the country rather than dropping them off and returning to Kyle in the early morning hours. About twenty-minutes into the rugged journey, we come across a vehicle--a very rare event on this road. The lights of the ancient car were flickering erratically and as we drew nearer, we could plainly see that the car was hopelessly stuck in thick mud. Steering my truck away from the bog, we pulled over. A young woman opened the door of the car and walked over to our window. Very drunk, she attempted to explain that they were in need of some help. Soon, another woman stepped out of the car, causing me to catch my breath. She was wearing two-inch shorts and a shirt that wouldn't properly fit a baby doll. Mud was caked on her legs and she struggled to even stand. She wobbled over to my truck, opened the door slid right in next to me as my Lakota brother had stepped out to examine the situation. J actually knew the young woman and introduced us. When J mentioned that I was teacher, the young woman turned her body away and said "Oh no! And you see me like this?" But what she didn't realize was that when I saw her, I simply saw pain and brokenness. And I remember wishing that my CMs could see the realities of alcohol in the world in wich I live.

So why don't I drink? Because though alcohol can be a source of great pleasure and enjoyment, in some cases it is abused. This abuse can tear apart countless lives and leave my babies to pick up the pieces.

B

P.S. After dropping J, the baby and myself off at the house, my Lakota brother returned to pull the car out of the ditch. However, he arrived to find all three of the people in the car passed out. After rousing them with much effort, they realized they had lost the keys. They all searched for hours, but to no avail. They ended up having to leave their car and be taken to a relatives house for the night. I saw them the next morning, still combing the area in search of the keys.