What Are We Doing to Our Youth?

Jill’s name appeared on my phone’s screen. The hunger I felt was replaced with heavy emptiness. My high school’s Impact Counselor, whom I’d spoken with after hours before, had never called me on a holiday. I told my family to start dinner without me while I took her call.

Alex walked into my 9th grade English class, chin up and with a smirk on his face. He sat away from the others. I could tell he was going to take some work. Kids like him always did.

They required you to set aside your preconceived notions of how students should behave and to work at being compassionate but firm.

To any outsider, Alex appeared to care more about being the mysterious “bad boy” than being involved with any authentic community.

I saw through his act but respected the kid. He, like everyone, came to his thoughts and feelings by way of how the world treated him. He behaved like a tough guy. Any teacher who has been around knows there’s more beneath a rough surface.

Alex was multiple grade levels behind in reading and writing but more than intelligent. I could tell he had wisdom about the human condition one can only gain by living a hard life early and often.

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