Dear Anonymous,
We are so sorry that we didn't recognize the signs.
Love,
Humanity
The Journey:
Lupe, a petit beautiful Mexican 12-year-old girl, identified only by the alias assigned to her by the FBI, is suddenly missing from the Los Angeles placement center, leaving only her most cherished possession behind, a self-made book of poems, photography and artwork entitled “To Santa Claus and Little Sisters”.
Lupe’s confidential file reveals that has she been struggling with suicidal thoughts and attempts for years. Little Lupe also has a contract on her life placed by her own incarcerated parents. Her brother is an active gang member with the notorious Mexican Espinoza cartel from Tijuana that specializes in child trafficking and ransom kidnappings.
Refusing to accept the hypothesis that Lupe ran away on her own free will, risks would have to be taken by a young naive Boston-born teacher - including the recruitment of his most dangerous student, Chata.
Seventeen-year-old Chata, a bold and controlling overweight active member of the Baby Locas Division of the 18th Street Gang in South LA, struggles between two opposing worlds and purposely brings both together in the back alleys of Los Angeles one moonless night.
Both would have to question their belief system many times in order to survive when circumstances were not in their favor.
To these young catalysts, Chata and Lupe, I am forever grateful for the spark that you ignited in me, for any real survivor characteristics that I possess are due to you.
And lastly, to all the young girls that I have had the honor to work with, who like Anonymous, unfortunately committed suicide - I want you to know that you are dearly loved and missed.
You changed my life.
Thank you girls.
In your honor, I have shared our story in “Santa Claus and Little Sister”.
Excerpt
Chapter Nine
I realize this morning that I have just passed my 3-month employment milestone at The New Beginnings Academy for Girls.
So far my classes have been mostly civilized and productive. The reward system coupled with monthly Snowmart shopping sprees has been a success. I have heard that a few teachers are incorporating the point reward system in their own curriculums. I can’t help but to think of this as validation for my approach. This makes me feel good. But as expected, not everyone approves of it, especially Barbara, who wrote a letter to the Baptist School Board protesting my “unchristian-like monetary” reward system. She also complained about my recent science lesson on evolution and natural selection, which was spiritually disturbing to her. Elizabeth had warned me last week that she was on a rampage, but most likely it was a temporary reaction with her complaints stemming from jealousy and envy. “Don’t worry Brian,” Elizabeth reassured me, “I doubt the board will pay much attention to her complaint.” I figured Elizabeth knew Barbara better than I did, so I heeded her advice deciding to put Barbara’s complaints out of my mind and concentrate on my students.
After learning about Lupe’s poems and appreciating her artwork, I realized that these girls had so much artistic talent. It is how they expressed themselves. Art allowed them to express their emotions and inner feelings through drawings, writings, dance and other creative outlets. I wanted to explore this revelation, so I approached Elizabeth for permission to build a dark room on campus and teach photography.
Elizabeth loved the idea and gave me a generous allowance to build a dark room for my new photography class. I was elated. I purchased six used 35 mm cameras, two enlarging machines, six developing tanks with all necessary solutions and other supplies needed to turn an old dusty broom closet into a modern functioning dark room.
The class quickly became so popular that I had to establish a waiting list. The girls at first were reluctant to photograph themselves, so we started with simple subjects like taking pictures of nature and inanimate objects. Gradually by the end of the semester, they were comfortable filming themselves and even enjoyed posing for outdoor headshots.
I assigned the photography class a project to put together the school’s first ever yearbook. The project was a hit. I was flooded with poems, artwork, and writings from students hoping to get their work included. Every teacher found a way to contribute to the project, except for Barbara, which didn’t surprise anyone. Despite Barbara’s efforts, this place was starting to look and feel like a real school.
Over my first three months, I have had many conflicts with Chata. She had become a thorn in my side. It was obvious that we did not like each other and she used every opportunity to ridicule me, annoy me, and push my buttons. She always knew which buttons to push too. I had mentioned that I was adopted once in a class discussion about genealogy and heredity, since then, she would often whisper “orphan” under her breath when I passed her desk. I ignored her hurtful comments, and I guess anything was better than the constant annoying “chicken” blurting out of her mouth.
Chata’s hatred was not only directed at me, for Lupe was receiving as much verbal abuse. But Lupe was changing before my very eyes; her grades have skyrocketed from D’s to A’s, she was grooming herself and transforming into an attractive young girl. She was gaining confidence and holding her own despite Chata’s vengeful attacks. And I treasured the fact that she had given me some of her private original poems and artwork, which I found wonderful, complex, and unusually insightful for a girl her age.
Lupe offered me two more of her private poems one afternoon after school as she was helping to clean my classroom. I knew that the poem entitled “To Santa Claus and Little Sisters” was obviously not Lupe’s work, so I decided to ask her about the poem and her fascination with it.
“Lupe, do you mind if I ask about the poem “To Santa Claus and Little Sisters”? I asked wondering if I crossed the line.
“No, ask away,” she replied with a smile as she fed the fish in the tank. I noticed she cared more about those tiny fish than any other student. She made sure they were fed every day and was constantly cleaning the water in the tank.
“It’s just that you crossed out “by Anonymous” on the poem “To Santa Claus and Little Sisters” and signed your own to the poem, why? Are the other poems yours?” I asked gently.
“Of course the other poems are mine,” she said with a little anger mixed with pride.
“Okay, okay….but tell me about that poem….” I said as I pulled a chair up next to her.
“Okay…..but this is between us…no one else…no social worker…no Elizabeth….nobody, okay….deal?” she said as she crossed her heart with her hands.
“I swear Lupe, you have my word,” I crossed my heart with my hands imitating her actions.
“Well, the poem reminds me of my grandmother….” she said with hesitation.
“Your grandmother?” I asked knowing that the only mention of her grandmother in her files was that she has been missing for seven years, and presumed deceased.
“Si, my abuelita….well one day she came by with Christmas presents for my brother and me, ……and I was home all alone and she got really mad.”
“Why?”
“Because I was alone all day with no food or anything, and the place was filthy and there were drugs on the table and she freaked out.”
“What did she do Lupe?” I asked impatiently.
“She took me with her to her house and left a note for my… mother.”
“What happened then?” I asked seeing Lupe was getting reluctant and fidgeting.
“Well, I remember that I had not eaten in a long time and I was so hungry. She took me to a taco stand near to her house, a place called Carmelita’s Tacos ….and I had carne asada tacos…. they were the best tacos in my life. My grandma kept wiping my mouth because I was making a mess everywhere,” she recalled as she smiled and giggled.
What a nice smile she had. I was captivated.
“What happened then Lupe?”
“I can still smell and taste those tacos now….muy ricos….” Lupe salivated as she took a seat next to me and stopped cleaning.
“Go on Lupe.”
“Well, I was so happy I remember then we sat on plastic white chairs while I was eating my tacos ….then we started walking to her house and we passed this weird yellow building with a lobby….and she went inside to get me candy from the candy machine in the lobby…..” she said while suddenly looking bewildered and lost.
“Butterfinger!!!!! That was it….she got me a Butterfinger…..it was so good..” She looked off with a slight glaze in her eyes.
“Continue Lupe please,” I said nervously that she might stop the conversation and drift into Butterfingerland.
“Okay…sorry…it was just the best meal and time…wow…anyway…we walked to her house and talked while I ate my Butterfinger …and oh yeah…the dogs scared us…..I almost forgot about that…..”
“The dogs? What dogs? Where you attacked?” I asked getting a little too excited about her story.
“No, but they were loud and lots of them….ay caramba…the noise…and the crazy man who yelled at us for walking by…my grandma just told me to ignore him…..but in Spanish….she didn’t speak any English….just the few words I would teach her…”
Lupe’s mind drifted off again so I had to bring her back before we would get disturbed, “Okay Lupe, sounds like you had a wonderful close relationship with your grandma, right?”
“I did, she was my amiga, my friend, Mr. Snow”
“What happened then Lupe?”
“I don’t know Mr. Snow, this is a lot….you don’t care about this, do you?”
“Yes I do care. I care deeply about you.”
“I know you do….these girls know you care about them too here…what guy would want to be here and get insulted all day?”
That was a new embarrassing perspective on my employment here.
God bless her little heart…and observation….
“Okay, back to your grandmother and the crazy dog guy, what happened then?”
“Well we continued on ignoring the crazy screaming man with the gun ….”
“The gun?” I asked shocked at her saying this so nonchalantly.
“Yeah, a gun….everyone has a gun in that neighborhood….”
“Okay then…” I replied shaking my head.
“Anyway, we were more scared at the chained dogs than the gun, so we were happy when we got to her house. It was nice inside and very clean. It was warm. There was a fireplace. She has cabinets, furniture, tables, plates, dishes and even eating utensils, it was like a movie….” she paused for a minute to catch a breath, “…then we sat down on the rug together and she handed me my Christmas present. It was a coloring book and a big box of crayons. I loved it. It was brand new.”
I didn’t know what to say with those little brown eyes looking up at me, “Wow, no, that’s wonderful Lupe; your grandmother is a very special person to give you such a wonderful Christmas gift.”
“Yep, she was…or is….who knows….” she reflected as she shook her head.
“What, she is still alive, right?” I asked not wanting to know the answer.
“I don’t know Mr. Snow…been years….my brother was the last one to see her…he still lives in her house hoping she’ll come home someday.”
“That’s nice of him,” I added.
“Anyway, Grandma was so impressed with my coloring and my drawings; she said I should be an artist someday!” Lupe proudly sat up in her chair.
“I agree…you have such talent…did you show your grandma your poems also Lupe?”
“Si,…she liked them…..she put them on her refrigerator door every time I gave her one…she always put my schoolwork, poems, and colorings on that door…. In fact, she hung the one I colored that night on her refrigerator …. It looked good. She said she was proud of me and kissed me. I miss her Mr. Snow.”
I thought my heart was going to drop out of my body just then as I looked at her. This was so sad.
“Okay, Lupe, she sounds so wonderful to me and I agree with her that you have such talent and you need to pursue it……what happened then?”
“It was such a nice evening…we were getting ready to watch TV…then my mother came in all yelling and screaming and tweaking out…..she knocked the coffee table over yelling at her for taking me away when I was supposed to be protecting the house…they had lots of drugs there…..mostly coke and meth….I use to watch the place in case the dopers came by and they thought no one was home…you know…the sleazebags…”
“No Lupe, I really don’t know to be honest with you….and I’m actually sad that you do.”
“Thanks Mr. Snow….you get it…you get me….I know it….thanks….”
I wanted to hug her then but I knew we were alone and although the door was open, it was not appropriate. As a single male teacher, I have learned over the years to never be alone with a student behind a closed door. Never! Rule Number One.
“Anyway, for some reason the poem reminds me of her…..I found it one day at the library tucked into a book…..I don’t know why…it just reminds me of her…so I want it mine…so I crossed the name off and put mine there…..”
“You miss you Grandma Lupe, huh?” Her obvious plagiarism didn’t seem like a big deal anymore.
“So much so that it hurts Mr. Snow…so much so that it hurts so bad sometimes I just want to die…..” she admitted as she glanced at the fish tank.
“Lupe, please don’t talk like that…” I said getting very nervous.
“No, don’t worry…those days are gone…I want to live and get a job and become someone….maybe a singer….a movie actress…or a famous painter or writer….I want to make my abuelita proud….so when she comes back, she will be so surprised and proud of me!”
“Lupe, she is already proud of you my dear. Wherever she is, she is thinking of you too, I am sure of that. Okay, why don’t you run along now and we’ll talk later…okay?” I said realizing that I was about to cry and needed privacy.
“Sure amigo…thanks for the chat…you think I’m going to be famous someday?”
“I sure do Lupe….I promise you that.”
Professional Reviews
Amazon Breakthrough Novel Awards Contest 2012
"This story was full of surprises. The main character starts off as naive and you think he realizes this later in the story but at the end, he is thrown by another surprise. It's a modern day story, very real feeling and funny, too."
AMAZON BREAKTHROUGH NOVEL EXPERT REVIEWER
Top Choice Award - Flamingnet
Santa Claus and Little Sister is the sad yet powerful story of a young teacher who moves from Boston to Los Angeles and finds himself in a classroom full of girls who have grown up in the gang life, abused and distrusting of others. He is suddenly immersed in a culture where wearing the wrong colors can get you killed, but he manages to handle the many conflicting emotions as he starts to connect with his students. One student in particular, Lupe, catches his attention. Her parents have a contract out for her death, as they are afraid she will identify pictures and get them arrested. Another girl, 17 year old Chata, is an active gang member and a constant annoyance at the school. When Lupe's life is threatened the young teacher and Chata must work together to figure out a way to save the child.
If Dr. Brain G. Snow's purpose for writing Santa Claus and Little Sister was to make his readers feel like crying and rushing out to do good in the world at the same time, he certainly achieved his goal. The story was told through the friendly, likable voice of the young teacher, whose emotions and thoughts were clearly portrayed in the text. The characters were intense and well-described, evoking many different reactions to their personalities at once. The plot itself started out slow and detailed, as the author set up the setting and developed the characters, but ended with a bang. The resolution to the story was bittersweet, and tied up all the loose ends perfectly. I would definitely recommend this book to teens and young adults interested in an emotional story, as well as those interested in careers with abused or gang children.
Readers' Favorite - Five Stars!!
In 1991,author Brian Snow had just received his doctorate in Education from Georgetown university. He decided to move from his parents' comfortable home on Cape Cod to Los Angeles as he loved working with special education students and wanted to live his life on his own. He is rescued from a rather dismal West Los Angeles hotel by his new landlord, Walt who cross dresses as Wendy and becomes Brian Snow's savior. Brian accepts a teaching position at "New Beginnings-The Academy for Girls", a locked facility for girls who are wards of the courts as many have been physically and mentally abused, raped, neglected or abandoned by their families. Because Brian Snow had worked with children living in dangerous conditions, Elizabeth Stelle, the school director, tells Brian that he is considered a natural for this position where he will serve as a male role model for his students. And then Dr. Brian Snow meets his students, especially Lupe, who at the age of 12 has had a death contract taken out on her by her own family. And then there is 200 pound Chata who is known to be obnoxious, loud, opinionated, manipulative, untrustworthy and still an active gang member. Will Dr. Snow survive all this and come to love his students, or will he quit and run like many other teachers at New Beginnings?
"Santa Claus and Little Sister" takes its title from a sad poem found in Lupe's papers. In this memoir where Dr. Snow had to change the names of his pupils due to regulations of the Los Angeles Department of Child Protection, the reader will be shaken to the core to learn of the horrors in the prior lives of the students of New Beginnings. The highly well-written text conveys Dr. Snow's often self-endangering activities as he involves himself in the lives of his students to protect them as well as ensure them a good education. Characters such as Walt/Wendy, Elizabeth Steele, Barbara, and classroom aide Tessie are three-dimensional and totally believable, even lovable. The bibliography at the book's conclusion shows the author's credibility but the lack of page numbering is a sad drawback to this wonderful memoir of a truly gifted special education teacher.
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