Smile

"You like to smile don't you mister?" she asked.
As the question is asked, my heart, my entire being lifts into a grin of contentment.
I smile at her and say, "Yes. Yes I do like to smile."
Picking up his homework, I look at the front, flip it over, and then flash the unfinished back at him along with a smile.
"What mister?" he says.
Turning the page to the front, and then again to the back I ask, "Forget something?"
"Oh Mister!" he says. "You didn't say we had to do both sides."
"Uh huh."
Smile.

A (7th grade) student asked me why I never laugh. Now I am sad.

Sad because I don't smile as much in 7th grade.

I am sad because my students' lives are so hard.

I'm sad because my student's father was shot.

I'm sad because words of hate are used so freely.

I'm sad because they don't succeed.

And I am sad because we are not learning.