Sometimes they just break your heart.

I've been a teacher for a relatively long time. This is my ninth year. In those nine years, I've had hundreds of students. Each of them came to me with their own story, their own traumas and triumphs, their own little take on the world. Each of them, in their own way has touched me and shaped the way I see and interact with the world. Many of them are the reason I come back to teaching year after year. On any given day, I feel prepared to handle whatever my students bring me, be it sorrow or joy, serious conversation or light-hearted celebration. Today a little girl walked through my door and showed me just how much I still have to learn. I can't post much about her particular circumstances, but suffice it to say that such a short life should not contain so much abuse and neglect. The scars of her past are visible on her person and in her eyes. Her fear and uncertainty were palpable as soon as she walked through my door. She recoiled from my hand as I gently touched her shoulder, and it took a concerted effort for her to raise her eyes up off the floor. It broke my heart to watch her struggle with simply being in the room.
As the days go by and I try to teach her English, I have a feeling I'm going to have to teach her much more than a language, and I have no idea how I'm going to do it. Watching her trying to shrink into her desk, trying to hide in plain sight reminds me how fortunate my children and I are to be where we are and have the lives that we do. It may sound odd, but I am thankful that she found her way to me. I am almost certain she has as much to teach me as I do her.