"I could feel hot, salty tears coming down my face. I sat and cried silently... I was scrunching myself up against the wall as far as I could. All of a sudden, someone from behind us taps on the guy’s shoulder..."
I am an assistant principal in a middle school (grades 6-8). When I have to search a student's cell phone, I often get sick to my stomach at what I find. It gets worse and worse every year.
"I don’t remember how sometimes you got angry or cried or had to walk out of the room to take a breath. I don’t remember a schedule, a checklist or any expectations other than just you."
"I will always hold onto the memories. Of the little girl who wore the little clothes. The one who laughed and cried without abandon. The one who never hesitated to wrap her arms around my waist. I will always hold onto that little girl, even when there’s a big girl wrapped in my embrace."
My girl is now the one leaving. And it’s been years since little toes lined up where I now stand, the small fingers that clung to lovies to comfort them as I left.
I’ve watched parents go crazy with enthusiasm when a kid does well. I’ve also seen them go stone cold silent when things take a turn for the worse. That silence speaks volumes into the heart of a child. As a result, kids grow up desperately chasing applause, and that usually gets twisted into a fragile, warped sense of self-worth.
