THOSE KIDS: Every Single Day
Every single day since March 18th I have thought about them. Every single day. I wonder how they’re coping. If they’re coping. I wonder how things are at home. I wonder if they are even going home. If they still have a home. I wonder if anyone has told them they will be okay. If anyone has even talked to them or listened to them or been there for them. If there is anyone in their life right now? Did they eat? Did they get new shoes because they outgrew their old ones this spring? Are they still at odds with their parents? Did the foster placement work out? Are they taking care of their siblings? Is anyone taking care of them? Are they on their meds? Every single day. For one hundred and sixty-three days. Every single day.
THOSE KIDS. My kids. The students I’ve worked with for the past several years. The most troubled and traumatized youth. The ones that cause trouble. The ones that disrupt and interrupt and misbehave. The ones that questions us. And challenge us. Every single day. The ones that don’t fit the mold and the answers don’t work. The ones that don’t know boundaries or limits and if they do, they push them. Every single day.
But they come to us. They walk through our doors each morning. Some of them already having faced demons and monsters before the sun camp up. But they come. Every single day. They come because school for them isn’t about math and reading and science experiments. It’s about being accepted. And cared for and valued and loved. It’s about being somewhere trust is learned. Where forgiveness is given. And second chances and 
third chances and even fourth chances are found. Every single day. It’s about being safe. About getting to live even a few hours each day without fear. It’s about being somewhere where their strength and their determination and their perseverance is recognized. Where every me is celebrated. Every single day.
And that’s what I wish more people understood. When our doors shut one hundred and sixty-three days ago, our first thoughts were not vacation or time off. It wasn’t about us. It wasn’t about what we were getting. Never. It was about them. About what they were losing. And that worry and anxiety and those fears have stayed with us every single day since then. Every single day. I’m right. I have no doubts that I am. I have spent the past several days with my people. Teachers and administrators. District personnel. Office and custodial and maintenance staff. Ready to work. Ready to problem solve. Ready to be creative or innovative or whatever we need to be. Ready to tackle whatever situation or environment we find ourselves in. Ready to teach. Every single day.
I heard one of my colleagues talk about the lost in one my meetings this week. The ones we lost track of last spring. The ones we haven’t heard from. The ones we aren’t sure we’ll see again. It broke my heart just a little because I knew exactly how he felt. THOSE KIDS. I heard him talk about his ideas for finding them. For thinking outside the box, leaving the norm, to create an environment that would bring them back to us. That would help us keep track of them and connect with them and make sure they had a place to go. Every single day. The fight he was ready to fight and the challenge he was ready to accept. Finding a way that would allow us to once again support them and care for them and love them. Every single day.
They were the words I needed hear. The passion and the drive and the determination I needed to feel. I got to say. I am proud of us. My people. We’re afraid. Of course, we are. Normal beginning of the year stuff is hard enough, but now we’ve got this virus too. Everything bigger and everything scarier. Risks. Chances. The unknown. But we’re here. We are learning. We’re struggling and we’re problem solving and we’re figuring things out. We’re making mistakes again and again. But we aren’t stopping. We’re 
getting creative and innovative. Comfort zones don’t exist and the box blew away a long time ago. We’re going to do it. As long as it takes. As hard as it may be. We will do it. For THOSE KIDS. For our kids. For your kids. For every single kid. We will. Because that’s who we are. That’s why we’re here. They are why we’re here. Every single day.