This morning, several of our high schoolers skipped out on school to do their annual visit to Cerezo, the state prison, where their parents are serving their sentences. As the kids going to the prison hung back as the rest went to school I started to think. Usually after waking up at 5:15am I can fall immediately asleep at 6:45am for an hour before I have to get ready to head to the office. Today, though, I couldn’t.
Every morning as the kids leave for school, I say some variation of good morning/have a good day to each. This morning though, I couldn’t think of what to say to those leaving for the prison. I almost felt as if didn’t have a right to say anything or ask them how they were feeling because I have no experiences to relate to them. Because in a way I’m innocent coming from a two parent family anf a safe neighborhood. I’m grateful to have been raised in a stable, supportive environment free of the horrifying experiences of many of my kids. But in some backwards way, I was wishing, just for a moment, that I had some story to share with them to show them that I understand or be someone who they could come to.
I try to remember that there are many things in life through which people can relate besides painful experiences. There’s our love of music, of playing instruments, of playing football. There’s our love of hanging out and telling jokes. But it’s like I feel guilty for being so lucky.
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