desamparado...

These kids hurt my heart. Do you ever get that feeling like something clenched inside you right between your heart and your stomach? I think I've learned to call that feeling love. I'm not sure how else to define it. Maybe it's that collective human spirit recognizing itself in another.

I found out this week that two of the students I am most concerned about are being transferred out of my class. I don't know yet if there's anything I can do about it, or if I even should try. I think the most frustrating element of my work so far is just not knowing. I have this one little peephole into the organism that is the school, and I don't know what's going on behind the scenes. I see these kids for forty minutes four days a week--and I don't know if they're getting the help they need from somewhere else. Maybe transferring is their best option. But the other part of me suspects that maybe they won't get help. I'm trying not to feel possessive or arrogant, but I'm here to help. I'M HERE! So give me these students who need me. We're here to catch those kids who slip through the cracks. I found two of them. So let me do my job.