The Eyeliner Queen is back and attempting to stay out of trouble. So far, it's going okay. She and I are going to keep in touch over the summer just so she knows someone is there if she needs support. I get super antsy over vacations if I don't have stuff to do, so this will be good for me too.
DC declined to pursue the issue with Ms. Science. He said he felt better after the weekend and it was just a few more weeks of school, so he could deal. I said okay, and he’s seemed fine since.
I readdressed the issue with the Charmer & Co. the next time they asked to eat with me. Reiterated how I was uncomfortable and why it was inappropriate. They apologized. I said if it happened again, we were done with the lunches. They agreed. It’s been perfectly appropriate since. It better stay that way.
The Natural Athlete filled out a sort of “don’t hurt yourself without talking to someone first” contract. At school, I’m his first contact if he’s feeling majorly upset and Ms. Counselor is his second. At home, it’s Dad and Grandma, I think. He was sent home early on Wednesday – I guess his parents thought it was kind of silly, but Ms. Counselor talked about how they might not agree, but his emotions are his emotions, and we needed to take it seriously. The next day, we touched base. He’s much better but promised to come talk to me if he needs to.
Preventing Skin Cancer, Courtesy of 6th Grade!
We’re working on procedural speeches right now to finish up the year, which are speeches on how to do something. They can do theirs on whatever they want, as long as it’s school appropriate (one little delight proposed doing one on kissing girls, and assured me he was indeed an expert – I assured him I didn’t want to know or have him share his expertise with the class – instead he’s going to do how to do a backflip).
Yesterday I modeled for them how to plan their speech as we’re using a new planning format. It’s pretty straightforward, but they still need practice with it. I did mine on how to grow tomatoes, as I enjoy gardening and am pretty good at it.
While I modeled, I let the kids contribute ideas. Keeps the buy-in higher and off-task behavior down. In three different classes, under the list of materials needed to be a successful gardener, students said necessary materials included sunscreen and/or a hat. And in each class, they then clarified with, “You know, for YOU.”
Hee.
Yesterday I modeled for them how to plan their speech as we’re using a new planning format. It’s pretty straightforward, but they still need practice with it. I did mine on how to grow tomatoes, as I enjoy gardening and am pretty good at it.
While I modeled, I let the kids contribute ideas. Keeps the buy-in higher and off-task behavior down. In three different classes, under the list of materials needed to be a successful gardener, students said necessary materials included sunscreen and/or a hat. And in each class, they then clarified with, “You know, for YOU.”
Hee.
The kid I never imagined.
Today BB Bob and another one of the Charmer’s friends, the Chowhound (the boy never. stops. eating.), asked to have lunch with me. I’d been looking for the Charmer, but he was absent (story for another day…grrr), so I said sure. This is the third day in a row that these boys have had lunch with me – the last two, the Charmer and the fourth in their group, the Talker, had been there too, but the Charmer was absent and the Talker had detention, so then there were two.
I was a little surprised, to be honest. BB Bob was one of my kids from last year, but he and I were never particularly close. We got along fine, just nothing beyond. This year, when the Charmer and his friends started coming in for lunch, I assumed that BB Bob was pretty much just along for the ride – better to be with your friends in a teacher’s room than by yourself in the cafeteria. But they came.
Right after we got to my room, BB Bob asked me oh-so-casually how often I talked to his reading teacher. “Do you guys talk, like, all the time?”
“Not really – I don’t see her that much. We have pretty different schedules.” I wondered why he was asking, then I realized.
The day before, I’d told the Charmer that his reading teacher had complimented him. They don’t get along, AT ALL, but she’d made a point of emailing me about him, so I wanted to pass it along. She’d said that he’d really turned things around, which I’m pretty sure means that he’d started to play the game the way she wanted, but whatever, I thought it might help him to know. He hadn’t seemed to much care, but I guess the others had been listening.
BB Bob is a really good reader. Ms. Reading used to compliment him, and I’d heard his current teacher compliment him too. And he was wondering about that.
“She’s told me a bunch of times what a great reader you are.”
He shook his head. “Naw. I’m not.”
“Yes you are! And Ms. Reading used to tell me too, so I know you are.”
He shook his head a moment more, then a slow smile broke out. “Yeah…maybe.”
The conversation moved on, and after 20 minutes or so, the Chowhound said he was going to go outside for the last ten minutes. I assumed BB Bob would take off too, but no. He stayed another two or three minutes – we chatted some more, about his options for next year and why he might not come back to my school, until he suddenly seemed to realize that he was in a room, with a teacher, by himself, BY CHOICE, and he had no idea how to deal with that.
“Uh…I’m going to go outside too.”
“Okay. See you later.”
“Bye.”
“Have a good day, Bob.”
“Thanks.” Then a split second later, “Uh, you too.”
So funny to learn that you matter to a kid you never imagined would care.
I was a little surprised, to be honest. BB Bob was one of my kids from last year, but he and I were never particularly close. We got along fine, just nothing beyond. This year, when the Charmer and his friends started coming in for lunch, I assumed that BB Bob was pretty much just along for the ride – better to be with your friends in a teacher’s room than by yourself in the cafeteria. But they came.
Right after we got to my room, BB Bob asked me oh-so-casually how often I talked to his reading teacher. “Do you guys talk, like, all the time?”
“Not really – I don’t see her that much. We have pretty different schedules.” I wondered why he was asking, then I realized.
The day before, I’d told the Charmer that his reading teacher had complimented him. They don’t get along, AT ALL, but she’d made a point of emailing me about him, so I wanted to pass it along. She’d said that he’d really turned things around, which I’m pretty sure means that he’d started to play the game the way she wanted, but whatever, I thought it might help him to know. He hadn’t seemed to much care, but I guess the others had been listening.
BB Bob is a really good reader. Ms. Reading used to compliment him, and I’d heard his current teacher compliment him too. And he was wondering about that.
“She’s told me a bunch of times what a great reader you are.”
He shook his head. “Naw. I’m not.”
“Yes you are! And Ms. Reading used to tell me too, so I know you are.”
He shook his head a moment more, then a slow smile broke out. “Yeah…maybe.”
The conversation moved on, and after 20 minutes or so, the Chowhound said he was going to go outside for the last ten minutes. I assumed BB Bob would take off too, but no. He stayed another two or three minutes – we chatted some more, about his options for next year and why he might not come back to my school, until he suddenly seemed to realize that he was in a room, with a teacher, by himself, BY CHOICE, and he had no idea how to deal with that.
“Uh…I’m going to go outside too.”
“Okay. See you later.”
“Bye.”
“Have a good day, Bob.”
“Thanks.” Then a split second later, “Uh, you too.”
So funny to learn that you matter to a kid you never imagined would care.
It's all about the relationships.
After school today, I was talking to one of my administrators who is going back to the classroom next year. He was telling me a story about one of our little charmers, and I said I couldn’t imagine being in admin. The administrator said it had a lot of good parts, but it was definitely different. I agreed – it seems like the student relationships would be so different. I shared the following story with him.
One of my boys came to class this morning looking pretty down. This is a kid who is always good-natured, always friendly, always open. When he doesn’t understand a concept, he flings his arm in the air and says, “I don’t get it.” Language Arts is challenging for him, but he always tries his hardest, always participates, always is polite and respectful and kind. I’ve seen him off before, but usually from a physical issue – the kid’s a natural athlete and fully commits to the moment, so he often comes to class clutching his side or limping from a morning football injury. I fully believe that someday he would throw himself in front of a car rather than miss a pass. But I digress.
Today’s mood was different from what I’d seen before. The Natural Athlete was upset in a different way. “Hey, you okay?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Not really.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
Shrugged again. “No.”
I didn’t push it, but when I saw him staring at his desk five minutes into class while everyone else finished making kites (we’re practicing following directions and then analyzing the directions), I called him over. “Honey, what’s going on? You seem really upset. You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
He still didn’t really want to talk, so I switched tactics. “Here’s the thing. You’re kinda freaking me out right now. You just don’t seem okay. I need to know if you’re thinking about hurting yourself in any way.”
He shrugged again. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Awesome. “Do you want to go talk to Ms. Counselor?” Definite no from him. “Then I need to know what’s going on.”
After some more pushing, I finally asked if it had to do with a relationship. He’s been going out with one of my girls for a few months, so I assumed it was linked to that. He affirmed. I asked if it had ended. He affirmed again, and then poured out the story. They’d been going out for three months, but then she dumped him this morning and he didn’t know why except that she said he talked about sports too much, but he didn’t even talk about sports that much, and now she and all her friends hated him, and he just didn’t know what to do because he was so sad about it all.
Yep. Girls. Always causing problems.
So the Natural Athlete and I talked about relationships, and how they end but new ones are formed, and how he’s a great kid and I’m sure will have no trouble finding a new girlfriend when he’s ready, but he should take his time, and he’ll get there in the end, and it’s hard now but it will get easier. He nodded, and sniffed a bit, and nodded some more.
After we talked, I asked him again about the hurting himself. He said no, he didn’t think he would. But saying you think you won’t hurt yourself isn’t good enough, so I pushed him again about going to see the counselor.
“I don’t want to! I don’t even know her – I don’t want to talk to her about this. I know you.”
Which I get. I wouldn’t want to talk to someone I didn’t know either. But I couldn’t just let this go – the possibility of self-injury isn’t something I take lightly.
“Okay. Here’s the thing. Take some time and think about all this, and then let’s talk this afternoon and we’ll see how you’re doing then. Cool?”
He agreed, and we left it at that. At lunch, I found Ms. Counselor and filled her in. She said that when I talked to him to ask again about if he was thinking about hurting himself.
I stopped him on his way into his reading class. “How’s it going?”
“Better. I’m still kinda sad, but not as sad. She’s not talking to me but whatever.”
“Are you still thinking about hurting yourself?”
“No.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Cross your heart?”
“Well…I don’t know if I can cross my heart.”
“Yeah, I’m going to need you to go to Ms. Counselor.”
“But I don’t want to!”
“I know. And I’m sorry. But your safety is the most important thing, and I need to make sure you’re safe. You know that, right?”
“Yeah…I guess.”
I looked at him. He was staring at the floor. “Would a piece of candy help you feel better?”
His face lit up. “Yeah!”
So I gave him two Jolly Ranchers, signed his pass, and sent him up.
That’s why I love teaching, and why I don’t want to be an administrator, at least not at this point. I have relationships with these kids that you don’t get if you’re not in the classroom. Yeah, they can be built, and the counselors certainly do build them when they can, but the Natural Athlete trusts me, and that’s why he was willing to tell me what was going on. It’s all about the relationships.
One of my boys came to class this morning looking pretty down. This is a kid who is always good-natured, always friendly, always open. When he doesn’t understand a concept, he flings his arm in the air and says, “I don’t get it.” Language Arts is challenging for him, but he always tries his hardest, always participates, always is polite and respectful and kind. I’ve seen him off before, but usually from a physical issue – the kid’s a natural athlete and fully commits to the moment, so he often comes to class clutching his side or limping from a morning football injury. I fully believe that someday he would throw himself in front of a car rather than miss a pass. But I digress.
Today’s mood was different from what I’d seen before. The Natural Athlete was upset in a different way. “Hey, you okay?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Not really.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
Shrugged again. “No.”
I didn’t push it, but when I saw him staring at his desk five minutes into class while everyone else finished making kites (we’re practicing following directions and then analyzing the directions), I called him over. “Honey, what’s going on? You seem really upset. You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
He still didn’t really want to talk, so I switched tactics. “Here’s the thing. You’re kinda freaking me out right now. You just don’t seem okay. I need to know if you’re thinking about hurting yourself in any way.”
He shrugged again. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Awesome. “Do you want to go talk to Ms. Counselor?” Definite no from him. “Then I need to know what’s going on.”
After some more pushing, I finally asked if it had to do with a relationship. He’s been going out with one of my girls for a few months, so I assumed it was linked to that. He affirmed. I asked if it had ended. He affirmed again, and then poured out the story. They’d been going out for three months, but then she dumped him this morning and he didn’t know why except that she said he talked about sports too much, but he didn’t even talk about sports that much, and now she and all her friends hated him, and he just didn’t know what to do because he was so sad about it all.
Yep. Girls. Always causing problems.
So the Natural Athlete and I talked about relationships, and how they end but new ones are formed, and how he’s a great kid and I’m sure will have no trouble finding a new girlfriend when he’s ready, but he should take his time, and he’ll get there in the end, and it’s hard now but it will get easier. He nodded, and sniffed a bit, and nodded some more.
After we talked, I asked him again about the hurting himself. He said no, he didn’t think he would. But saying you think you won’t hurt yourself isn’t good enough, so I pushed him again about going to see the counselor.
“I don’t want to! I don’t even know her – I don’t want to talk to her about this. I know you.”
Which I get. I wouldn’t want to talk to someone I didn’t know either. But I couldn’t just let this go – the possibility of self-injury isn’t something I take lightly.
“Okay. Here’s the thing. Take some time and think about all this, and then let’s talk this afternoon and we’ll see how you’re doing then. Cool?”
He agreed, and we left it at that. At lunch, I found Ms. Counselor and filled her in. She said that when I talked to him to ask again about if he was thinking about hurting himself.
I stopped him on his way into his reading class. “How’s it going?”
“Better. I’m still kinda sad, but not as sad. She’s not talking to me but whatever.”
“Are you still thinking about hurting yourself?”
“No.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Cross your heart?”
“Well…I don’t know if I can cross my heart.”
“Yeah, I’m going to need you to go to Ms. Counselor.”
“But I don’t want to!”
“I know. And I’m sorry. But your safety is the most important thing, and I need to make sure you’re safe. You know that, right?”
“Yeah…I guess.”
I looked at him. He was staring at the floor. “Would a piece of candy help you feel better?”
His face lit up. “Yeah!”
So I gave him two Jolly Ranchers, signed his pass, and sent him up.
That’s why I love teaching, and why I don’t want to be an administrator, at least not at this point. I have relationships with these kids that you don’t get if you’re not in the classroom. Yeah, they can be built, and the counselors certainly do build them when they can, but the Natural Athlete trusts me, and that’s why he was willing to tell me what was going on. It’s all about the relationships.
Cinco de Mayo
As I assume y'all know, today is Cinco de Mayo. My school’s about 60% Hispanic and many of our students are actually from Mexico, so it’s a fairly big deal to our kids. As a school, we don’t do anything for it (I’m considering working on that for next year – any suggestions?), but I wanted to at least acknowledge it.
This year, I wrote Cinco de Mayo 2009 on my board for the date, asked them if they knew what the day is all about, let kids correct those who thought it was Mexican Independence Day, elicited explanations as to the true meaning of the day, and gave everyone a piece of candy, a pencil or a PBS school buck in celebration. Lip service, yes, but better than nothing, I hope.
During 7th period, a student asked me while I was taking the candy around if I celebrated Cinco de Mayo. I reiterated what I’d done for the holiday. He said, “I don’t celebrate it because I’m not Mexican.” He’s clearly Latino, but apparently didn’t want to be assumed to be Mexican.
Now, I’m about as white as you come. Blond hair, green eyes, skin so pale I have trouble finding foundation that’s dark enough…Casper and I have been declared cousins in the past. So after he made his stand, I looked at him and said, “Neither am I. Do you NOT want a piece of candy?”
Homes looked down, took a Jolly Rancher, and muttered thanks. Happy Cinco de Mayo to you, my friend.
Also, a student invited me to a quinceanera today. Is it appropriate for me to go? It's for his cousin and he's performing in it in some way - I'm not totally clear how, but I told him to get me the information and I'd love to be there. That's cool, yeah? I ordered Once Upon a Quinceanera from the library so I can learn more before I go.
This year, I wrote Cinco de Mayo 2009 on my board for the date, asked them if they knew what the day is all about, let kids correct those who thought it was Mexican Independence Day, elicited explanations as to the true meaning of the day, and gave everyone a piece of candy, a pencil or a PBS school buck in celebration. Lip service, yes, but better than nothing, I hope.
During 7th period, a student asked me while I was taking the candy around if I celebrated Cinco de Mayo. I reiterated what I’d done for the holiday. He said, “I don’t celebrate it because I’m not Mexican.” He’s clearly Latino, but apparently didn’t want to be assumed to be Mexican.
Now, I’m about as white as you come. Blond hair, green eyes, skin so pale I have trouble finding foundation that’s dark enough…Casper and I have been declared cousins in the past. So after he made his stand, I looked at him and said, “Neither am I. Do you NOT want a piece of candy?”
Homes looked down, took a Jolly Rancher, and muttered thanks. Happy Cinco de Mayo to you, my friend.
Also, a student invited me to a quinceanera today. Is it appropriate for me to go? It's for his cousin and he's performing in it in some way - I'm not totally clear how, but I told him to get me the information and I'd love to be there. That's cool, yeah? I ordered Once Upon a Quinceanera from the library so I can learn more before I go.
Do The Right Thing.
I mentioned a while ago that I’d used excerpts from The Freedom Writers Diary in class, both for content and for…well, I could call it a morality lesson, or character education, or something, but I like to think of it as a do-the-right-thing lesson. The do-the-right-thing lesson didn’t have much in common with the Spike Lee movie (they’re both connected to racial issues, as my students who started punching the other kid did so because he was using racial slurs, but that’s about all), but was instead designed to make my kids realize that reporting someone for being an asshole isn’t snitching but is protecting yourself and the people around you.
We read two essays. One was about a boy who was being bullied, lost it, beat the shit out of the bullies and almost killed one of them, and ended up in juvie, when if someone had reported the bullying it might have all been prevented. The other was about how two boys from the Freedom Writers school went to Vegas and one lured a little girl into the bathroom to kill her while his friend watched him abduct her and then just walked away. That essay ended with the line that the friend could have saved two lives that day.
It went as well as I’d expected it would – I got kids to acknowledge the issue, at least some of them, and to pay lip service to understanding it, but I didn’t really believe I’d gotten through to any of them on any deeper level. I hoped it, sure, but honestly assumed that they’d forget about it as soon as they walked out the door.
Probably most of them did. At least one didn’t.
After school that day, one of my girls showed up – Sparkles (both her makeup and her personality sparkle – awwwww, I’m so cheesy!). This girl is incredibly sweet and friendly, very funny, very smart. Just a great kid. She asked if she could talk to me in the hallway, so I said sure. When I asked her what was going on, she told me a story.
That day in math, she and a friend of hers had been messing around. Talking, laughing, throwing little pieces of paper at the boy in front of them. Sparkles fully acknowledged that she shouldn’t have been doing that, but, y’know, she’s 12 and sometimes isn’t perfect. Then it escalated. Sparkles’ friend took a piece of gum and put it in the boy’s hair. Not cool. The teacher found out, got mad, and made everyone write about what they knew about the situation. Sparkles wrote that she had no idea what had happened because she didn’t want her friend to get in trouble. But then after class she started thinking. She remembered the essay we’d read, about the friend who’d let his friend murder a girl, and while she knew that gum in the hair was an infinitely less serious situation, she couldn’t get it out of her head.
Sparkles told me she didn’t want to be the kind of person who let her friends get away with stuff just because they were her friends, but she also didn’t want her friend to be mad, so she asked if I could report what had happened. I said I would, but that if they needed to know who the witness was, she’d have to come forward. Though unhappy about the possibility, she understood.
Before she left, I stopped her. I told her I was so proud of her for doing the right thing. It’s not easy to do, for adults or kids, and I was so delighted that she was that kind of person. She thanked me.
This kid rocks, and would rock no matter what, but my lesson had an impact on her. And if it affected her, maybe it affected some of the others too.
We read two essays. One was about a boy who was being bullied, lost it, beat the shit out of the bullies and almost killed one of them, and ended up in juvie, when if someone had reported the bullying it might have all been prevented. The other was about how two boys from the Freedom Writers school went to Vegas and one lured a little girl into the bathroom to kill her while his friend watched him abduct her and then just walked away. That essay ended with the line that the friend could have saved two lives that day.
It went as well as I’d expected it would – I got kids to acknowledge the issue, at least some of them, and to pay lip service to understanding it, but I didn’t really believe I’d gotten through to any of them on any deeper level. I hoped it, sure, but honestly assumed that they’d forget about it as soon as they walked out the door.
Probably most of them did. At least one didn’t.
After school that day, one of my girls showed up – Sparkles (both her makeup and her personality sparkle – awwwww, I’m so cheesy!). This girl is incredibly sweet and friendly, very funny, very smart. Just a great kid. She asked if she could talk to me in the hallway, so I said sure. When I asked her what was going on, she told me a story.
That day in math, she and a friend of hers had been messing around. Talking, laughing, throwing little pieces of paper at the boy in front of them. Sparkles fully acknowledged that she shouldn’t have been doing that, but, y’know, she’s 12 and sometimes isn’t perfect. Then it escalated. Sparkles’ friend took a piece of gum and put it in the boy’s hair. Not cool. The teacher found out, got mad, and made everyone write about what they knew about the situation. Sparkles wrote that she had no idea what had happened because she didn’t want her friend to get in trouble. But then after class she started thinking. She remembered the essay we’d read, about the friend who’d let his friend murder a girl, and while she knew that gum in the hair was an infinitely less serious situation, she couldn’t get it out of her head.
Sparkles told me she didn’t want to be the kind of person who let her friends get away with stuff just because they were her friends, but she also didn’t want her friend to be mad, so she asked if I could report what had happened. I said I would, but that if they needed to know who the witness was, she’d have to come forward. Though unhappy about the possibility, she understood.
Before she left, I stopped her. I told her I was so proud of her for doing the right thing. It’s not easy to do, for adults or kids, and I was so delighted that she was that kind of person. She thanked me.
This kid rocks, and would rock no matter what, but my lesson had an impact on her. And if it affected her, maybe it affected some of the others too.
One month out.
We’re a month out from the end of the school year, and I’m already heartbroken. It sounds dumb, probably, that I’m literally in tears over losing my kids. It IS dumb, probably. Sill true, though.
They’ve started to lose it a little bit. More fights, more backtalk, more overwrought emotional exchanges.
A couple of days ago I asked one of my girls if she was feeling okay because she seemed a little off. She said she felt kind of dizzy and congested. I asked if she wanted to go to the nurse; most kids jump at that opportunity, because a break from class is always a nice change. She teared up and said she couldn’t miss a day, that her grades would go down and she couldn’t afford that. I told her that if you’re sick, it’s okay to stay home, it was only one day, she could make it up. She started to cry, saying no no no, she couldn’t, please don’t make her, she couldn’t leave. Finally I got her to stop by saying I wouldn’t make her.
I remember this from last year. I remember how taken aback I was at how they just totally fell apart a few weeks before the year ended. Not all of them, of course, but enough of them that it was really noticeable.
It happens because of instability, or so I’m told. A lot of my kids don’t have stable home lives. Parents aren’t around much, or if they are, they don’t always act like parents. The kids might have huge responsibilities or no responsibilities. They don’t always eat regularly. Violence is not uncommon.
School is a haven. They have a routine, they have expectations to meet, they have food. Summer….who knows?
I’d miss them no matter what. Even the most stable ones with the best home lives, I’ll miss them, just because they’re my kids and I’m attached to them. But I worry about their safety, both physical and emotional, and that makes it so much harder to be excited about the break. Because for some of them, it’s the opposite – school is the break from the trauma of their lives, and summer immerses them in it so deeply that I’m terrified they won’t make it back up for air.
They’ve started to lose it a little bit. More fights, more backtalk, more overwrought emotional exchanges.
A couple of days ago I asked one of my girls if she was feeling okay because she seemed a little off. She said she felt kind of dizzy and congested. I asked if she wanted to go to the nurse; most kids jump at that opportunity, because a break from class is always a nice change. She teared up and said she couldn’t miss a day, that her grades would go down and she couldn’t afford that. I told her that if you’re sick, it’s okay to stay home, it was only one day, she could make it up. She started to cry, saying no no no, she couldn’t, please don’t make her, she couldn’t leave. Finally I got her to stop by saying I wouldn’t make her.
I remember this from last year. I remember how taken aback I was at how they just totally fell apart a few weeks before the year ended. Not all of them, of course, but enough of them that it was really noticeable.
It happens because of instability, or so I’m told. A lot of my kids don’t have stable home lives. Parents aren’t around much, or if they are, they don’t always act like parents. The kids might have huge responsibilities or no responsibilities. They don’t always eat regularly. Violence is not uncommon.
School is a haven. They have a routine, they have expectations to meet, they have food. Summer….who knows?
I’d miss them no matter what. Even the most stable ones with the best home lives, I’ll miss them, just because they’re my kids and I’m attached to them. But I worry about their safety, both physical and emotional, and that makes it so much harder to be excited about the break. Because for some of them, it’s the opposite – school is the break from the trauma of their lives, and summer immerses them in it so deeply that I’m terrified they won’t make it back up for air.
