The Heartbreaking Truth About Addiction Through an 8-Year-Old's Eyes: My Red Ribbon Week Experience

Imagine this: it’s the dead of winter. There he was—Irvin—dressed in shorts, wearing old, beat-up shoes that were tearing at the sides, and a faded hoodie that used to be blue. His hair was always a mess, his arms and legs covered in scratches, and a stubborn rash clung to his skin like a shadow that wouldn’t leave.

Every day, Irvin showed up the same way—eyes crusted over, as if he had just woken up. You could tell he hadn’t bathed in days.

“Teacher, I got here early for breakfast today,” he’d say.

“Good job, Irvin. Go ahead and eat.”

He never brought homework—just an old pencil buried somewhere at the bottom of a half-open backpack with a broken zipper. It sometimes seemed like he had nothing to lose.

I never pressed him about homework. The simple fact that he showed up, sat down, and was present was enough.

Irvin was an eight-year-old Mexican boy with five siblings, all crammed into an old van. He came to school for the free meals and, occasionally, for clothes. In the lost-and-found bin, he’d often find pants or a jacket that fit him, which he would share with his brothers.

When I asked him about his family, his answers were short. He mostly talked about his older brother, who, as he and his mom said, "got mixed up in some bad stuff"—drugs.

His brother’s addiction had thrown the family into chaos—something no child should ever have to endure. Drugs and alcohol had shattered the little they had. His mother, a young woman, once told me, “Teacher, I don’t know what to do anymore. My oldest son has destroyed us all. Drugs consumed him... and us.”

She explained that he’d been arrested. And honestly, it was for the best. It kept the rest of the family safe.

Being the next oldest, Irvin had been forced to shoulder burdens no child should ever have to carry. His brother’s and father’s addictions had left him to navigate violence and extreme poverty from a very young age.

I remember during Red Ribbon Week, I gave a talk on the dangers of drugs. Irvin, as usual, seemed distant—exhausted, lost in his thoughts. But when I asked, “Does anyone know how drugs affect your brain, your family, your friends?” Irvin raised his hand.

“Yes, I do,” he said, his voice heavy with sadness. It was as if he was silently begging to be heard.

“Tell us, Irvin.”

“Drugs and alcohol take away your happiness, the desire to play, to laugh, to watch TV, to eat, to study… they take away your will to live.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut.

“My brother’s in jail because of drugs,” he continued, “but the worst part is, we don’t want him to come out. Drugs are bad. I hate them. They just make people live badly, and they make moms suffer. There’s never any money. They take your TV, and they don’t bring it back. Having a brother or dad on drugs is horrible…”

“I understand, Irvin,” I replied softly. “I hate them too.”

After that, I asked the kids to write a letter to their future selves, warning them about the dangers of drugs and reminding them of what they had learned that day.

The messages they wrote were beyond powerful:

“Take care of yourself, don’t let mom down.”  

“Don’t do drugs. Remember Irvin’s brother.”  

“You don’t want to live sick and hurt others.”  

“You want to be a YouTuber, not someone with bad habits.”

But one message from Irvin stood out and has stayed with me ever since:  

“Remember when you were a kid, you lived through very sad things. You will never be like your brother. You will never suffer. You will help your family.”

With shaky handwriting, Irvin read his letter aloud to the class. When he finished, I asked him, “Irvin, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

“I want to be a police officer or a doctor or teacher. I’m going to be rich, and I’ll buy a big TV for my house.”

One of the boys stood up, beaming with excitement, and wrapped Irvin in a hug.

And that’s when it hit me—bringing the harsh realities of life into the classroom isn’t just important, it’s essential. It’s a responsibility. Maybe Irvin’s words, or the reflections of that day, will change the lives of his classmates. Maybe they’ll help them avoid the same painful path.

Irvin’s story is even sadder than I can fully express. I’ve lost touch with him over the years, but I know that, through the support of our school, we gave him a chance at a better future.

If you’d like to use the resource I used in that class to help raise awareness about the dangers of drugs, check out the materials I’ve prepared. They might help you make a life-changing difference for your students, just like they did for Irvin and his classmates.

Red Ribbon PowerPoint Presentation GS and PDF, Discussion and Reflection Q’s Red Ribbon Week Activity, Craft Writing and Reflection on Drugs Red Ribbon Week Craft Activity, Say NO to Drugs Printable and Digital

Because sometimes, all it takes is one lesson, one conversation, to change a child’s life forever.