I'm living my own Breakfast Club moment right now. My poor girl is in a very bad place, and there's nothing I can do to help her. Except listen. Being 16 is not easy. Life is often not fair. And working toward making it better is a really hard choice to make. Because it's hard work. Brutal work. And I don't know if she's ready to make that choice.
Another friend of mine came in at the last minute. Needed to get his truck jumped so he was late. Me being me, of course he can come late. Still has to do the 2 hours. I may be soft, but I'm not a pushover. I hope he joins me next semester. I think this is where he belongs
And seriously, I even had a Ally Sheedy type kid show up. He wasn't even on my list! I could not make this stuff up even if I tried.
Dear Mr. Vernon: We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it is we did wrong, but we think you're crazy for making us write an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us: in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain, and an athlete, and a basket case, a princess, and a criminal. Does that answer your question? Sincerely yours, The Breakfast Club.
1 comment:
Did I tell you about the time I worked Saturday School last year? I was so tempted to tell the kids who didn't bring work that I wanted them to write me an essay telling me who they thought they were. And I didn't mean the same word repeated 1000 times.
But you know the thought that keeps me up at night? When we get old, these kids will be taking care of us.
I wouldn't count on it.
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