When It’s Cold They Come
I teach in a city where poverty is the norm. Over fifty percent of the households are living below the poverty line and are headed by single women. Everybody knows it and nobody is ashamed. It just is.
The kids wear uniforms to school so everyone looks the same, mostly. They get two warm meals with fruits, vegetables, juice, and milk. They have the attention and love of teachers and administrators in a place where they can feel safe.
Today is the coldest, snowiest day so far this school year, and my classroom is full with more students than usual. On this morning, my students have walked in bundled up, dripping snow and slush, sniffling and sneezing, but smiling. Soaking up the heat as the vents blow warm air. Soaking up the light of my eyes because I love them.
I thank God for compensatory education and public schools because on days like these, every kid belongs and has somewhere they are supposed to be. They don’t have to make excuses for walking into a school house. They get to just be kids.
When it’s cold, they come
