Photo credit: midiman
I see boys walking the halls of this school. I see them walking and chatting with friends about girls or sports or homework. Then there are some other boys that I see. The ones that stalk the hallways. The ones that walk angry to cover the hurt of which they can not rid themselves. These boys are the ones I want in my class. Spanish won't fix their problems, but I can make sure for 45 minutes they are successful. I can make sure that for 45 minutes they know they are loved because someone talks to them and jokes with them and helps them understand something new. I can pray that 45 minutes makes up for the other untold hours of hurt and pain they carry with them. When they leave my class, I can ask them how their day is and listen without judgement. I can remind them that they are better than their behavior says sometimes. I can do my best to be Jesus when no one else in their lives knows who that is. I can care for them and pray that makes a difference.
I weep for these boys who have no one to show them how to be a man because men are scarce these days. You see a few decades ago we told their grandparents that men are bad, so they stopped being men and stopped raising men. Now they have emotionally or physically absent fathers because fathers are men and we stopped raising those. I weep for these boys that struggle against an education system built for girls because girls are good. I weep for these mothers that are trying to be fathers as well. I weep for the mothers who gave up a long time ago. These boys that stalk the hall have my heart because that's where Jesus is and they need to know him.