Not all of them want to learn. Not all of them will come here and feel safe. You can’t help all of them. Some just can’t be saved.
This I was told. And so my heart broke. I took it personally when I opened the door and forced opened books and tried my best to pry open their hearts and minds and then watched them ride home in stereotypically broken-down pick-up trucks, Confederate flags plastered to bumpers. You can’t control the universe.
As a 23-year-old stepping into newly bought and paid-for teacher shoes, I wasn’t told. But I have learned.You can’t control the universe.
I realize now. And so what happens today inside
our beloved pale-yellow-brick walls where the windows barely open far enough to let in a much-sought-after May breeze? We have a choice here. This
space we own, and it can
11 years of teaching