The baggage we carry with and for our students gets very heavy.
Five, seven, ten, thirteen year olds.
Moms in jail. Dads who abandon.
Grandma’s who mother. Grandfather’s who. Who may be there. Or, who may not be there.
Guardians who provide.
Lives so hard. The weight of the world on their shoulders. Besieged by broken promises. Claims of love. Assertions of better days ahead. Pangs of sadness so deep to the core that no one can reach.
Lives so young. Remnants of innocence flickering in the dark. Parcels of childhood loped from reality. Murmurs of laughter. Residue of a time that may have never been.
Children who have borne witness and busied themselves to forget what they saw. Come to school. Listen to teacher. Make friends. Tell an adult if someone bothers you.
Teachers who welcome. Swoop in and fix. Tirelessly working to annihilate the demons. Treading water, bailing water, walking the tightrope of emotions. Applying balm to the soul. Soothing. Comforting. Salvaging and preserving childhood while ushering in maturity.
Time passes. The future cracks open with glimmers light . Specks of hope dotting the horizon. The preface to a better life. We believe. We insist. It is possible.