One day in the 7th grade, Hattie Rice was standing in front of her class making a presentation.  The next moment she passed out, striking her head as she hit the floor.  When Hattie regained consciousness, she didn’t tell her teachers why she had fainted—she was hungry, “almost starving,” because her mentally ill parents were spending the family’s food money on drugs.

Although Hattie didn’t tell her teachers the truth, she feels that’s no excuse for their failure to notice her problems: “They should have done something,” the 16-year-old says, “they should have called home.”  But not one teacher took follow-up action. 

Hattie’s story is about the failure of teachers and other adults to notice signs of serious problems in her life, until the foster care system couldn’t help noticing and stepped in.  It is also the story of a young woman’s tremendous resourcefulness and resilience, once her problems were noticed. 

Hattie had been hungry in school since at least the 6th grade: “I didn’t eat breakfast, and didn’t eat until I got home, and when I did I ate Chinese food.”  Nevertheless, she did well in school: “I solved the easy problem, which was school, rather than trying to solve the hard, hungry problems.”

Not only was Hattie showing signs of hunger in class, she was also extremely withdrawn because of the impact of living with two schizophrenic parents.  Her mother was the more severely ill of the two and Hattie had to care for her.

“Sometimes it was overwhelming because I had my own problems. I also felt it wasn’t a child’s place to take care of her mother. I’d tell myself not to be upset…but as much as I tried to understand, I also felt angry and abandoned.”

Being so quiet was another warning sign that something was seriously wrong in Hattie’s life but, again, no one noticed or took action.

“I never talked at all.  I never read out loud either.  I think it was like May one year, and this kid in class said to me, ‘This is the first time I’ve heard your voice.’  I felt it was odd that teachers never noticed that I never said a word.

“I was so quiet that people forgot I was there.  I was getting such good grades that they assumed I was just shy.  ‘She can read, she can get an 80 on a test.’  They assumed I was perfect and didn’t make mistakes.  But I wish they had gotten me more involved in talking.”

And she also wishes teachers had protected her from relentless teasing. 

Once, when Hattie walked into her 8th grade classroom, the whole class moved to the other side of the room, but her teacher didn’t make them move back.  Hattie always felt she was an outcast.  “Everyone thought I was weird.  I’m a different kind of child.  I don’t watch cartoons, I’ve never seen an episode of Sponge Bob, I didn’t think it was funny when the kids were cursing out the teacher.”

And it wasn’t just the other kids who treated her badly.  Her 7th grade teacher called her “slow” and “retarded.”  

Hattie was also withdrawn  in her family.  “I was like a mute growing up.  My uncle didn’t hear my voice until I was 13.” 

And, just as at school, no one seemed to notice.  Only after she stopped going to school did the child welfare system finally investigate her home and place her in foster care. 

Hattie was terrified when she went into foster care.  To start off , the social workers didn’t tell her where she was going.  “They’re just driving you, and when you ask where you’re going, they just ignore you.”

For the first week in her group home, she cried “day and night” and didn’t leave her room.  Due to her social isolation, she had never had friends before and was scared to meet the other girls.

But, slowly, she realized the girls had experiences similar to her own.  Unlike in school, Hattie didn’t feel judged or labeled.  A group home resident named Amanda became her first close friend.  Hattie was able to open up to Amanda about her life at home. Amanda taught Hattie how to stick up for herself without losing her temper, how to cook and clean, and made sure she didn’t cut school.

Two staff members in particular—Ms. Deirdre and Ms. Priscilla—were very supportive.

“A lot of kids and staff have gotten me out of my shadow,” Hattie says.  “Taking me places and having me talk for myself, instead of babying me.  People just forced me to speak up for myself.”

For the first time in her life, Hattie got positive attention from peers and adults, and was able to concentrate on her education.

After a year of living in the group home, Hattie’s depression lifted.  It was replaced by an anger she had repressed for years—a deep realization of how hurt she had been by her parents.  She continues to feel torn between expressing her anger, and holding in her feelings to protect her parents. 

“I’ve always tried to cover up my feelings when I’m with my mom, because I figured that she has enough stress without knowing that she hurts me. Sometimes I feel confused because I wonder, ‘Is it OK to feel sympathetic and angry at the same time?’ ”

While Hattie has “outbursts” now and then, she mainly tries to let go of her anger. 

“I think my parents have enough problems, rather than me hating them or something like that.  I either write or listen to music or do homework.”  She’s turned off by individual therapy and prefers the peer-to-peer counseling she got in the group home, as well as in the foster home where she currently lives.

After about a year in foster care, Hattie faced the toughest decision of her life: whether to stay in foster care or go home to her parents.  She decided not to live with her parents anymore. She felt it was time to look out for her own interests.  Hattie says the decision helped her become “a different person.” 

“I would never have come out of my shell if I stayed with my parents.  Because they’re schizophrenic, they’re very overprotective and paranoid, so they never let me outside to even explore.  So I would probably still be the same shelled-in person.” 

Her parents accept Hattie’s decision and she sees them every two weeks.  And, unlike before, she can leave when things get too intense.  “I get to remove myself from a very stressful situation.  I don’t have to be there all the time.  Now I have nobody else’s problems to get me away from my reality.”

When she entered the group home, Hattie was diagnosed as having “social phobia” or being unusually fearful around people.

“There was a time when I couldn’t walk on 42nd St.  I would actually shake in crowded buses and everything.  I’m working on that.  I’ve learned to speak in public.  I’ve had to present in school.”

Hattie believes that in some situations, group homes are better for teens than foster homes.

“It’s good for shy teens because they get to interact with kids their age and with other people who have problems similar to theirs.  It’s almost like therapy, where they can meet kids who can talk with them about their problems.  And you can form a relationship with your staff or your social worker.” 

Hattie is currently a senior at Adlai Stevenson HS in the Bronx and is on the Honor Roll.  Her favorite subjects have been English, history, and social studies.

She wants to attend SUNY Binghamton and become a forensic accountant.  Last summer she set a goal of attaining a score of 1200 on the SAT and set out to learn 250 new vocabulary words in 228 days.

Looking back, what would Hattie say to those teachers who missed the telltale warning signs of her serious problems?

“I think they should observe more.  There’s a reason why kids jump around and act crazy—they’re not getting enough attention at home.  And there’s a reason why I was so quiet.  They just never took the time to ask.”