She was new to being a school counselor.
Fresh out of school herself.
She knew working in a large city like this one might be overwhelming sometimes
but she never thought such tiny persons
could have so many problems.
Her group sessions for some kids from broken homes
started off normally...
until an eight year old boy explained that his father wasn't around
because he was in prison on felony murder charges.
The boy said it so nonchalantly.
Kids would be sent in the middle of classes
because they smacked their head on their desk repeatedly.
Many families lied about where they lived,
because this was a GOOD school in the area
and they wanted the best for their babies.
Children had to keep up the lies.
This little girl. She knew this sweet kid well.
Bedwetter. Anxious. Self harmed in class. Nine years old.
She tried to talk to this girl
and could see how uncomfortable she would get when questioned.
She'd never drop being unable
to get the girl's secret out.
Her and her colleagues often loved children
when nobody else did.
Wiping tears, paying lunch balances, and explaining job layoffs.
It was all worth it, of course. But who decided
that children should bear such burdens?