On the first day of my second year of teaching I found out one of my students from last year died that morning. The teacher who told me said "It's always so hard when one of them dies." That wasn't something I had thought to worry about. I had spent all summer worrying that I didn't actually like teaching that much, I just liked that particular group of students I had my first year. I worried that the next group would be as annoying as people say junior high students are and we wouldn't get along and teaching them would be awful and tedious. I didn't worry that the students I loved so much would die.
Yesterday I found out that one of my past students is missing. He got sent to rehab and he escaped and ran away and no one knows where he is. He was a handful for sure. He's the one that we would all talk about in the faculty room and sing praises if he ever decided to be absent, but we were secretly sad on the inside because we know his home life is awful and he just needs to be loved. 15 is too young to be missing.
Why are some students' lives so sad?
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