Yesterday two of my students were in trouble for something or other, and were called up to the office. During my plan, I saw them up there and asked what was happening. They were both honest with me and it turns out to be a pretty serious thing, especially for sixth graders. I patted their shoulders, went back to my room, and promptly sat down for a cry. I didn't cry because of anything having to do with me or my teaching. I cried because these kids are worth so much more that what they are choosing to do. I cried because I can see them making the wrong choices, going headlong down the wrong path, and because it's their choice and I have to let them make it.
Sometimes I think, wait! I can't be in charge here, I am hardly a good decision maker! I was making those choices not too long ago. Maybe that's why I have finally found my place in life. I made it through in one piece, in spite of all my bad decisions, and maybe I have something to say to these kids that will make a difference. I struggle every day to do the right things. The difference in the past few years is that the right thing has been winning. My life has changed. I have changed.
If I can figure out a way to warn these kids in a way they will understand, in a way that will make a difference, it will all have been worth it.
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