"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 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 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 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..."
In churches across America, a quiet but consequential conversation is unfolding. It often begins with a question—sometimes whispered, sometimes posted publicly on social media....
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.
