The last day before Snowpocalypse began, one of my students (we can call her B) came to me in the middle of class to tell me that another student (we'll call her L) needed me. B said that L was in the bathroom - they had been pulled out of class by our hall's security personnel to deal with a conflict with another girl. I know that I'm not supposed to have "favorite" students, but L is one of my favorites. The way that I've seen that child turn herself around since I've been in that classroom and invested my energy into her reinforces my love of teaching every day. So when B came to me and said that L needed me, I got up from my desk and I followed her. 
Frankly, I thought L had been in a fight. It had been brewing for several days, and I had been trying to keep her from it, but she's strong willed, and there's only so much I can do. I was scared that she was hurt. What I found when I got into the bathroom, however, might have been worse. She was sobbing uncontrollably. One of my other students (let's call her S) was in there as well, also sobbing. My heart broke immediately. 

I comforted the girls the best that I could, while B told me the whole story. As I said, the girls had been pulled from class to deal with a conflict, and S, B, and L had all decided that they were going to cut ties with the other girl. It was a long and emotional story, but pretty run-of-the-mill high school stuff. At least, that's what I thought. 

The girls told me, just before the bell rang for 5th period, that they didn't want to go to their next classes. They were still crying so much, and I couldn't stand to just send them on their way, so I walked down the hall and spoke to their 5th period teacher (he and I have an understanding when it comes to L. He often lets her leave his class when she's finished her work so that she can come finish up work for my class) and I told him the gist of the story, that I was going to keep S and L with me until I could get them calmed down, because they didn't want to be seen in the emotional state that they were in. The timing was fortuitous - his class was watching a movie that day, so they wouldn't be missing any work. 

I took the girls to, what amounts to our makeshift teacher's lounge, and I sat with them and we talked it all out. They told me the whole story - how their now ex-friend always treated them like they didn't matter, how they had bent over backwards to take care of her any time she called, and yet she would never do the same for them. It was hard to hear, because it reminded me of my own high school experience. I knew that, to these girls, this fight was the end of the world. It was worse than any breakup they could go through, because they were losing someone that they thought was their best friend.

We talked, they cried, our hall's security guard came in and helped me talk to the girls and get them calmed down. I expected the tears, I expected the drama, but what I didn't expect was the reason that the girls had bonded so much to begin with. 

Trauma bonding is one of the closest forms of bonding you will ever experience. When you go through something that makes you feel so alone, and then you find out that someone else has been through it to, it changes your whole world. You have someone who understands what you've been through, someone you can talk to about your pain, someone who can calm you down when the fear creeps in and the negative voices in your head start telling you that it's all your fault. 

My girls - my sweet S and L - told me how they had been assaulted MANY times. They told me how it had affected their lives, their self esteem, their outlook on their future, and their friendships. Their now ex-friend, they told me, had been through this trauma too. That's why they had taken her into their little group. That's why they had given her so much of their time and energy - because they understood, and they thought that she needed them as much as they needed each other. 

Only once in my life have I ever experienced heartbreak like I did that day - it was the day that I realized that you can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved, no matter how much you love them. Hearing my girls tell me their story, I sat and I fought back tears trying to be strong for them. 

As we continued to talk, S rolled up the sleeves of her hoodie and showed me the multitude of scars that ran up and down her forearms. I had never been more surprised to find out that someone had been cutting. S is the class clown. She's always laughing. Just that morning she had been showing out more than usual, and looking back, I guess I should have realized why. Chalk it up to my having never worked in a high school setting before, but I thought she was just in a really good mood. She told me her story that day. She told me that one of her family members had sexually assaulted her on at least one occasion. She told me that she is severely depressed, that if it weren't for L and B, there were many days that she deeply considered "throwing in the towel" (her exact words). 

I was dumbstruck. What do you say to that? What was there to say? 

I don't know if I said the right thing, but I told her that I'm glad that she didn't "throw in the towel". I told her how much I love her, and that I'm glad that she's in my class. I told her how funny she is, how much she makes me laugh. I told her that she's a wonderful student, and a wonderful person. I told L that I loved her, too. I told her that she's beautiful and she has a heart of gold. I told them both how special they are, that they still care about their ex-friend, despite how badly she had hurt them. I told them how proud I was of them, and that I would always be there if they needed to talk. I can't guarantee that I can keep that promise, but those girls are the reason that I'm fighting to be hired at that school. I need to be there for them. 

My husband had to remind me later on that this is exactly why I got into education in the first place. High school was difficult for me, and I don't think I would have made it through if it weren't for some of my amazing teachers. I always wanted to be that teacher for some other young girl. I tell people all the time that the reason that I didn't become a counselor is because you have to seek out a counselor, but students spend hours a day with their teachers. Teaching puts me in a unique position to care for my students' mental health in ways that they might not otherwise get. 

Even knowing that being there for my students is my motivation for doing this job, however, doesn't make this any easier. It's been 10 days since I last saw L, S, and B. I've worried about them every single day. I've wished that I could check on them. I've napped to keep myself from crying. I've avoided thinking about it by playing video games. 
I just found out that my school is closed again on Monday, and that we're going to be virtual all next week. It'll be another 8 days before I lay eyes on my students again. Anything could happen in 18 days. Will S even be there when I go back? That question haunts me every day. 

Last night I had a nightmare that one of my students got hooked on drugs and joined a gang. In the school I work in, that's a very real possibility. In my dream, the student looked pale and sick. He would barely talk to me, and when I asked him why he would tell me that he's "just not that talkative" (in reality, he's one of my most talkative students). When I pressured him to tell me what was going on, I was attacked and my house burned down by other members of his gang. I fought them - physically - to try to get him away from them, but they overcame me. He ended up being hit by a car because he was too out of it to realize that he was in danger. I watched the whole thing happen. 

That student isn't one that I'm worried about in real life. He's got his head on straight. Plus, he's dating the daughter of one of my co-teachers, so it's not as if he isn't being looked after. But there are so many of my other students that could actually be put in this type of situation. (Hopefully, without the burning down my house part - but I don't rule that out entirely.) I'm afraid for them. Several weeks ago, a former student whom I had never met, was shot and killed in some gang related violence. He had a brother who was still a student at my school. 

The same week that my girls told me about their traumatic past, one of my boys got into a fight that I suspect might have been gang related on some level. He was suspended for the rest of the week. I heard reports from one of the teachers that broke the fight up, that his nose was broken. It was a mess, and I have worried about him every day since. 

Now, before anyone says anything - this is not what a normal week at my school looks like. This is the first time this year that any of my students have been in a fight. It's the first time that I've had to talk any of my students out of fighting, or that any of my students had been called out of class by security. It was an all together unheard of turn of events. My students, and the students of my school in general, are good students. They love one another, and their teachers love them. We give them so much of ourselves. That school is very much like a family for everyone who spends their time in it. 

But we know - the teachers know - that there is an underlying tension there. We know that we're not just struggling to educate our students because of a pandemic - but because so many of them are living below the poverty line, some of them are homeless. Many of the students who chose to be virtual for the remainder of the year, don't have regular access to technology. They aren't submitting their work because they can't. 

I already had one student drop out this semester. I have more that tell me every day that they're going to drop out at the end of the year. I fight every day to explain to them why they shouldn't. I've had one or two who told me that the deciding factor was going to be whether or not I would be there next year. That's a lot of pressure. 

I love what I do. I'm passionate about it. You can find me, most days, sitting on a table at the front of the room and having very real conversations with my students about why literature about the 1940s is relevant to their lives. I love those conversations. When I'm not having those conversations, I'm grading their writing and workshopping with them to help them improve. I'm pouring myself into them. I'm giving them all that I have, and when I get home at the end of the day - I am happy. But I am also scared. I'm scared for the students that I know are living below the poverty line. I'm scared that they're going without electricity and water due to the weather, while I've been blessed to have both. I'm scared that I'll return to work to find that some of my students have been in survival mode for these two weeks. I'm scared of what this could do to them. 

I don't know what the point of this blog post is. I guess I just needed a safe place to vent. When I talk about this to other people, often I hear "It'll be okay" or "This is why you wanted to be a teacher, remember?" I find that only other teachers truly understand. But at the end of the day, I never want to forget the way that I feel right now. I guess that's the biggest reason I'm posting this to the internet. I never want it to disappear - because I know I'll need a reminder one day, that this was the moment that confirmed everything for me - this is what I'm supposed to do with my life. 

I hope, with all my heart, that my students are safe. I hope that they're warm tonight. I hope that they have food to eat and clean water to drink. I hope that they are healthy. I hope, above all else, that they know how much they are loved. I love them, so much that I'm awake at midnight thinking about only them. If I could rescue every one of them that needed it, I would. All I can do is teach them, and love them, and hope that it's enough. 

**disclaimer**

As a mandated reporter, I have, and will continue to, report any instances of abuse or neglect that I become aware of. I post these stories only after I have discussed them with the proper personnel. I am aware that I am legally bound to confidentiality, and for the protection of my students, I will not say which school I work at, or which city I live in. 

As an additional disclaimer, I'd like to state that I know my students and the climate and culture of our school. When I talk about my students being involved in gang activity, it is not a generalization that I'm making about them. It is a suspicion that I have based on evidence that I've seen in my classroom.