You work at an elementary school and have 20 students. You taught kindergarten! You loved working with the sweetest little kids.

You had one student who you especially loved and cared for. His name was Ashton, or Ash for short, and he was 5. Since the first day of school you knew something was going on at home, and for many reasons. Whether it was him having bruises, small cuts, a cut on his lip, the dirty and torn up clothes he always wore and his filthy hair that you’ve found lice in, never having something to eat, and even having accidents in class when he got too scared or nervous. IT worried you SO much…

He looked up to you as a parent. You were somebody that cared for him, treated him with care and was always so gentle, patient, and loving with him. He tried his best every day in your class. You did everything you possibly could to help him and make him feel cared for.

Starting a new week on Monday, he came in as always with his dirty clothes, his little shoes that were falling apart, dirty and messy hair with his tiny cheeks bruised up…it killed you inside each time, seeing how he tried to be strong and keep a smile. He was an angel.

He walked up to your desk, giving you the homework from last week as his little voice spoke up with some hope.

“I-I finished i-it by myself, teacher! D-Did I do good?…” That sweet little stutter of his with his hopeful eyes, you barely even told him when his work was wrong. You needed to help him, keep him safe.