From time to time I Google former students. I admit it, I do. My first students are now in their early twenties- adults. Some of them are my Facebook friends and I love watching their lives continue from afar. Jasmine was in seventh grade when she was my student. She would now be seventeen. Recently,
It was a sunny, spring day in the beginning of March. The day began like most others, as ten students clomped into our elementary, self-contained special ed room wearing oversized coats, noisy boots and multi-colored backpacks. We stood for the pledge and the daily announcements. Finally, the buzz settled and the students took their seats.
A boy from my school died. His name was David. He was sixteen, and I’m told, a notorious gang member. He was Edgar’s cousin. He was Alberto’s friend. David was run over by a car of opposing gang members, crushed up against a gate and beat to death. To my knowledge, no one has been