Among the mourners at the Wednesday funeral of Emani Moss, some almost certainly bore an extra burden of anguish: employees from her school, which had tried to warn the state that the 10-year-old was in danger at home.
The identities of Emani’s teachers remain unknown, but other educators and advocates describe the frustration many teachers face when dealing with the system designed to protect children. Too often, educators say, their attempts to involve the state Division of Family and Children Services seem to go nowhere. Too often, they report their suspicions and hear nothing back.
Is the state investigating? Were my fears justified? Is the child being protected?
“That is one of the most frustrating things about the process,” said Connie Jackson, a former special education teacher and president of the Cobb County Association of Educators. “As an educator you can see what’s going on and report it and report it and report it — and see that nothing is happening. And there’s nothing more you can do.”
The real danger is that some teachers will hold back, deciding it is fruitless to report any but the most blatant signs of abuse, said John Adams, executive director of Educators First, a local nonprofit advocacy group.
Many teachers “are concerned the DFCS system is broken,” Adams said. “In some gray-area cases, teachers might be less likely to make a report.”
DFCS says it sends a letter acknowledging every report of suspected abuse or neglect. Agency officials say they also provide basic information about how the matter was handled — for instance, whether the allegations were substantiated — if the person who made the report follows up with a request.
But, even if rigorously followed, those steps could still leave many teachers in the dark. In many school systems, teachers relay their concerns to the front office, which passes them on to DFCS. According to DFCS’ interpretation of the law, that leaves the teacher with no standing to request information from the agency.
Besides, some advocates doubt that the agency actually even acknowledges each report it gets.
“I don’t think it happens as often as it should be, for sure,” said Melissa Carter, who once held the post of state child advocate and now heads Emory University’s Barton Child Law and Policy Center.
Instinct and training impel teachers to speak up for children who may be in danger. But cases of abuse or neglect are often murky, and just about any course of action holds the possibility of painful repercussions.
If teachers fail to immediately report evidence that a child is being mistreated, they face penalties under state law. If they miss danger signs, a child may suffer unnecessarily. But if they make a report that DFCS cannot substantiate and the student’s parents learn of it, the task of educating that child can only get harder.
And when they raise the alarm and the worst still happens, as it did in the recent deaths of Emani Moss and 12-year-old Eric Forbes, fear, frustration and anger will be compounded by stinging grief.
Law and practice
Georgia law designates teachers as “mandated reporters,” meaning they are obligated to report suspected abuse and neglect within 24 hours. If they fail, they can face a misdemeanor arrest, a year in jail and a $1,000 fine.
In the past year, 19 educators who failed to report abuse were given punishments ranging from written reprimand to 90-day suspension by the Georgia Professional Standards Commission, the agency that licenses educators.
Schools make sure teachers are trained to recognize signs that a child may be in danger. And metro Atlanta teachers report such suspicions thousands of times each year. Gwinnett, the state’s largest school district, logged 3,034 reports in the last school year — or an average of 17 each school day.
Despite those numbers, the volume could be even higher, if every case was clear-cut. But educators sometimes struggle to distinguish legitimate accusations from gossip uttered at school or through social media, Adams said.
Teachers may also be wary of making such powerful accusations against a parent, accusations that can damage their rapport with the child and ignite an explosion between the school and the family.
Jackson, the former Cobb teacher, once reported a girl’s complaint that she had been sexually and physically abused. The parents responded by racing up to the school to vent their anger.
As far as Jackson knows, the case resulted in no action against the parents.
“You still have to continue teaching the child the rest of year,” she said. Stung once, she said, teachers “are much, much less likely to say anything again. You never forget it. It makes you feel hopeless.”
In practice, different school districts also apply the law differently. Some allow teachers to contact DFCS directly; others, including Gwinnett and DeKalb, funnel all concerns through other district employees.
“We try to keep teachers a step out of it,” said Dianne Thompson, Gwinnett County Schools’ counseling director.
DeKalb and Fulton assign a social worker to follow up on each report from a teacher, including reporting the case to DFCS and perhaps to law enforcement.
Some districts seem quicker than others to crack down on teachers who don’t report. The Cobb school system has disciplined 22 employees in recent years for not reporting allegations in a timely manner. At least eight lost their jobs, and some wound up in the justice system.
One-way street
Once a report is filed, many teachers say they desperately want to stay in the loop. They feel responsible for helping the child. Some say they have pleaded for a child to be removed from an abusive home.
But keeping teachers informed can be difficult, and experts say the burden isn’t solely on DFCS. School districts and teachers themselves also play a role, they say.
Challenges exist at every level. For DFCS, the sheer number of cases can be daunting. The agency has been plagued by employee turnover over the years. Privacy laws limit how much information its workers can share.
DFCS officials say they do involve teachers in some cases. After receiving a report, the agency sometimes interviews a teacher, said DFCS spokeswoman Ashley Fielding. If the agency begins to work with a troubled family, the teacher may be asked to help with educational issues.
And when the parents end up in court, teachers and social workers may receive subpoenas to testify.
In many more instances, though, the teacher’s involvement is likely to end with making the initial report.
In districts where teachers’ reports are channeled through a counselor or administrator, the teacher won’t be privy to even limited information from DFCS. And even those who file the initial reports themselves may not realize that it is up to them to ask for feedback from the agency.
It’s about trust
Ron Scroggy, DFCS director from 2011 to July of this year, said the working relationship between schools and local DFCS offices varies from county to county.
“Those counties that don’t have a good relationship, they need to work to improve that,” said Scroggy, who is now executive director of the Georgia Association of Homes and Services for Children.
When DFCS shows teachers that they can trust it to do right by children, teachers won’t feel it necessary to monitor the agency’s every step, he said.
An incident related by one Atlanta area teacher illustrates what can happen when the relationship is tenuous.
When she was a student teacher, the educator said, she found a bruise on a girl’s wrist in the shape of four fingers and a thumb. Other teachers discouraged her from reporting it, saying it was a pain to do DFCS paperwork and that the bruise was likely from an isolated incident.
“I went ahead and called (DFCS),” said the teacher, who declined to be named for fear of reprisal from her school. “I knew this was not OK.”
The next day, the youngster complained her leg was hurting. The teacher found whip marks there. This time, school officials called DFCS. The girl was removed from her foster home, and charges were filed against the abuser, the teacher said.
Success and failure
Of course, countless instances never make the news in which DFCS acts on teachers’ concerns and children are saved.
Patrick Crabtree, an Atlanta elementary school teacher, said he can recall filing four reports of suspected abuse and neglect over the years. He felt the system worked appropriately.
One girl had come perpetually late to school and rarely did her homework. She often wore the same clothes, and her family was living in a motel. He suspected her parents were neglecting her and filed a report through his front office.
Later, he learned from the girl that her family was doing better and no longer living in a hotel. Her grooming improved and she began completing her homework. That was all he needed to know. It would have been intrusive for him to receive more information, he said.
Just last month in Gwinnett, a teacher at Minor Elementary School reported seeing bruises and cuts on a 6-year-old student’s back when the student lifted his shirt. The student said they were from a beating he got for misbehaving at school. His mother was arrested and charged with second-degree child cruelty.
But teachers’ efforts couldn’t save Emani Moss or Eric Forbes.
In May of last year, Emani came to her Gwinnett school complaining that she had been struck in the head and back with a belt for eating her breakfast too slowly, which made her late for the bus. DFCS dismissed the report as acceptable punishment.
DFCS Director Sharon Hill said that was one of several “missed opportunities” to protect the girl. Her mother and father have been charged in her death.
Eric died October 11. In the previous year, teachers at his Cobb County elementary school made at least three reports of suspected abuse. But the Cobb County DFCS office found insufficient evidence to support a finding of abuse or neglect.
His father has been charged with child cruelty and murder.
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