I sat in a parent-teacher conference this morning and looked at a desperate mother. She was trying to parent an uncaring child. His 17 demerits, and his failing grades didn't matter to him. He quietly whispered reasons for not doing his work, or going to class. His eyes cast down to the floor, his hands wrung nervously in his lap, he gave reasons like, "because its annoying", "because I don't like it, " "because my book is too heavy to carry". The words were words of a punk. But the child that I was looking at sat ashamed, afraid, lost, insecure, and empty. He was not a punk, but it was easier for him to make shallow excuses, than to scream the truth.
I don't know what the truth is. Mom came alone to the meeting. Maybe the truth is that he hates his dad for leaving, or dying, or not being a part of his life. Maybe the truth is that needs more attention because mom works long hours to make ends meet and doesn't have time to take him to baseball games, or Disney World. I wish I knew his truth. I wish I knew the moment where he disconnected himself from the world. Mostly, I wish I could help him find his way back. I am a teacher, and surely it is my job to teach him that though life is unfair, there is always a way back.
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