[Children] are vulnerable to everything dangerous around them. They are concentrating on the busy task of growing up. They aren't yet aware of the hazards on all sides. Looking out for them should be our job.

Every day there seems to be a new tragedy making headlines. So many that I am afraid that the world's citizens are becoming desensitized by the constant barrage of Facebook posts, Change.org petitions and general mudslinging that accompanies them. There is a war being fought in our society, not one of guns and air strikes, but rather one of vicious anonymity. All over the world, we sit behind our computers, laptops and smart phones, slinging words in a way that has made them more insidiously dangerous than bullets. 

We all sit in high school classrooms at some point or another, listening to teachers go on about great leaders. We pass (or don't pass) the tests, put in the time and then promptly forget everything that we learned. As a teacher myself, it hurts to know that the same is more true today than it was ten years ago. John F. Kennedy urged us to "accept responsibility for future." He told us "Do not pray for easy lives. Pray to be stronger men." When confronted with the evidence that words can be overwhelmingly positive in their power, I have to wonder, when did it all go astray?

In the wake of Trayvon Martin's death, I saw something magical. I saw something that could almost make up for the loss of a young life. I saw my students, many of them broken, angry and violent, come together with hoods up in a day of remembrance. Was it politically correct? Maybe not. Was Trayvon an innocent bystander? We'll never really know. But somehow, in that moment, I saw a flicker of hope, a connectedness, in a generation of children that live their lives behind a computer screen.

Yet in the year that has passed since the shooting, I have witnessed a movement that began so compassionately turn negative. Suddenly it was less about the death of a 17 year old boy and more about the "biased media." On social media, anonymous floating faces typed harsh words about a boy that can not only no longer defend himself, but who will never have the opportunity to correct his mistakes. 

In Trayvon I see every student that I have ever taught. In my students I see the faces of millions of children who were born so disadvantaged, financially and socially, that for many the strength required to rise above will prove to be too much. And through everything, I see a society of people who are relaxing behind the wall that social media has created. People who have good intentions and bad intentions. People who bully and those who are dying from being bullied. Enough is enough.

When did it become enough to sign an electronic petition? Is sharing that link enough to change the world? I am in no way innocent of doing those things, and lately I have reflected on my own online choices. And so I have made a mid-year resolution. It is not enough to berate those whose faces I can not see. The only real thing that I can do is set an example. I am going to make every effort to live my words.

Recently I read a book that was given to me by Robyn Barberry, a fellow teacher. It was Just a Minute, by Wess Stafford. Granted, it leaned a little too much toward the religious side of things for me, but its message was overwhelming in its poignancy. Stafford asked the reader to take a moment to remember a person who had an affect on their life, whether it was good or bad. How long did it take for that person to affect your whole being? In many cases it can happen in just a minute.

I believe that many adults fail to realize that they are capable of affecting the children in their lives. Stafford states that "any of us can wield a powerful effect, if we simply care and stay alert to the opportunity." Who knows what might have happened in Trayvon's situation if someone along the line had taken the time to say a kind word, to discourage violent tendencies. Maybe the Sandy Hook shootings could have been avoided if Adam Lanza's mother, or teachers, or friends had taken more of an interest in his life and mental health needs. 

I ask only that you go into the world with a positive attitude. Smile at the person passing you on the street. Hold a door, utter a kind word. None of us know what is happening in the lives of those around us, and that smile could make or break that person's life. 

I hope that we will someday cease to lean upon the anonymity given to us by the Internet. I hope that we can curb the bullying that brings only death and violence to our children. Most of all, I hope that you, whoever you are, will take the time to affect someone's life as others have affected yours.

I leave you with one last question: What has become of our free society, that we hope each day for the safe return of our children just as we hope for the return of our soldiers?

And when you finally fly away, I'll be hoping that I served you well...For all the wisdom of a lifetime, no one can ever tell...And whatever road you choose, I'm right behind you win or lose, forever young

The end of the school year is at once exciting, uplifting and overwhelmingly sad. Maybe one day, when I've been teaching for ten or twenty or thirty years, I'll forget to be sad that another group of students has passed through my classroom doors for the last time. I hope that never happens, because despite the tight sensation in my heart and the tears that prick the backs of my eyes, I am grateful to know that I connected with my students, and that I will miss them. It is a teacher's greatest accomplishment, I believe, to know that there are also some kids that will miss their time sitting in those now empty desks.

This year my first group of seniors graduated. Some of them were my students last year, some this year, but as a whole, they are a group that I will never forget. My inaugural class, in a way. Since I have been at Alternative Ed, I have met a multitude of different personalities: angry, depressed, manically happy. Regardless of their insecurities, attitudes and the days that I thought that I would never get through to them, I have loved them each individually.

These days there is a stigma attached to a teacher's love for his or her students. In my mind, this fact is one of the greatest downfalls of today's culture. It is a little pinprick on my conscience every day, this knowledge that because I am a young, female high school teacher, I will be scrutinized and ridiculed for caring "too much" about my students. It's unfortunate that the mistakes and bad judgment of a few will forever color student-teacher relationships.

Regardless, I have never hesitated to express my dedication to the welfare of my students. Ask anyone who talks to me even once a week and they'll be able to tell you that although I have been frustrated, angry and at times a little hysterical regarding my job, at the end of the day I wouldn't trade my kids for anything. There were several moments in the past year when students asked me "You hate us, don't you?" My response was always the same, "Of course not, I lecture you because I love you guys." Sometimes a child needs that reassurance, that unconditional devotion that they are sometimes missing at home. Even in my most desperate, self pitying moments, that answer was always true.

My students are the underdogs in every sense of the word. They are the ones cast out by their "normal, rule-following" peers and tossed in with the other kids "like them" on the island of misfit toys that is Alternative Ed. This year I had the opportunity to witness how teachers cope with these students, and I was saddened to see that in some cases, not only was the love not evident, it wasn't there at all. It is a tragedy that in a place where students, especially the most frustrating and unruly, need to see that love, it wasn't freely given. Love is the most simple gift to give, after all.

I won't pretend that loving my students is easy, in fact it can be the most draining, profanity-worthy process. Even so, I would do it again, day after day after day. Actually, I intend to do so for the rest of my career. Just little acts of caring, a hand on the shoulder, the gift of a sketchbook, a note of encouragement, have the potential to turn things around for kids. In a larger sense, this is true of all people, not just those in school. These  little things are reminders that every moment counts because every moment is an opportunity for someone to chart a different course. 

That course led my inaugural seniors across the stage yesterday, and I have never been more proud of any group of people in my (rather short) life. As I watched them process in, in their white and red caps and gowns, I felt more like a parent than a teacher, because in many ways, some of those kids were my babies. We laughed together, wrangled a wayward dog together (long story) and on more than one occasion, I let them cry on my shoulder. I helped to show them what it means to be good people, and although sometimes they may forget it, they have proven themselves to be good-hearted, capable young adults.

One of my students was the valedictorian, which was the culmination of a year of hard work, perseverance and near perfect attendance. Considering this was a kid who came to us believing that he would be kicked out of school completely before he was eighteen, his accomplishments really can't be understated. On Back-to-School night at the beginning of the year, he told me that he would have straight A's and speak at graduation, and he did that. I know that he exceeded even his own expectations, and he will be a fine asset to the Navy's Nuclear Engineering program.

Another of my boys pretended that he didn't care about graduation, but when he was finished with the ceremony, there were tears in his eyes. I know, and I believe that he does too, that he is capable of anything he sets his mind to. I said goodbye to a girl that is bright, kind and funny, and I hope that she realizes all of her dreams. I hope too that she remembers to never let the opinions of others tarnish her opinion of herself. Finally, I was able to congratulate one of the nicest, quietest, most respectful students that I have ever had the pleasure of teaching. He was in night school, and his quiet dedication and positive attitude are inspiring. I hope that he never loses those qualities.

People ask me why I teach, and especially why I have chosen to spend time at Alternative Ed when I could have made more money simply substituting. My answer varies, depending on when they ask, but in my heart it's always the same: I teach because my students teach me. I teach because I love to give a part of myself to the education of others, and I teach because I find inspiration in every day spent in the company of my kids. The end of the year is exciting, uplifting and overwhelmingly sad, but I wouldn't trade the moments that led up to it for anything.