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“I don’t want my mom to know that I miss my

sister because I know it bothers her too, and I

don’t want to cause her any more problems. I’m

afraid that if I tell the shrink something like that

she’ll tell my mom and my mom will get mad.”

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“Well Sir, I have to tell you from experience, that

therapy is never easy, but the first thing you need

to do is to be honest. No matter how much it

hurts, you have to be honest. I went to therapy

for nearly 10 years, and I was never honest. I told

the doctors what I thought they wanted to hear

just so I could get out of their offices. Then I got

old, and it all caught up with me. Now I go to

therapy and I’m honest, and I feel like a new

person every time I leave the office because I

leave all the crap I talk about
in the office
. I really

cannot express to you how great that feels. I really

do feel like a new person.” I did my best to

convey my sincerity as I spoke. “If you start being

honest, your mom will have a better

understanding of what’s going on with you and

how she can help you. Because right now I’m

sure she’s blaming herself for what you’re doing

and what you’re going through.”

“Maybe I should be honest,” he said sadly. “I just

don’t want to hurt my mom, Mr. Love.”

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“Sir, to be honest, you’re hurting your mom
now

with your lies and sneaking around. You might

want to start there,” I recommended. His eyes

began to tear up as my words sunk in. Trying to

give him a way out, I put my hand on his

shoulder and asked if he was ready to go inside.

He hesitated and then threw his arms around me

in a bear hug.

With his face buried in my sleeve I heard him say,

“Thank you Sir.” Stunned by the sudden show of

emotion from this normally stoic young man, I

stood firm and let him have his moment. He

released his grip and stood back, wiping his eyes.

“You cool?” I asked, trying to maintain my own

emotions.

“Yes Sir, thank you Sir.” He said as I reached for

the door. Before I could open the door he called

my name. I stopped and looked at him. He

cleared his throat and said, “Thank you for being

so honest with us. I appreciate it.”

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“Sir, if I wasn’t honest with you I wouldn’t be

being honest with myself. I appreciate you guys

too. Let’s get back to work.” I opened the door,

and we went to our desks and got to work on our

own projects.

Keeping my mind trained on my paperwork and

not talking for a while had settled my mind.

When I felt more together, I got up and took my

position at the front of the room. I asked for status

reports, and everyone told me where in their

lessons they were working. I applauded their

efforts and told them all to take a break. Scott

came to my desk, holding his laptop. He showed

me the screen with his father’s name prominently

displayed on a Department of Corrections

website. Whispering that he had found his father

and was glad to know where he was, he thanked

me again and went to his seat. Scott’s relief was

evident and inspiring.

“Guys I want to share something with you. I told

you this morning about the letter and the call

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from yesterday, but I want to help you

understand why I’m doing all of this.” I spoke as

they closed their books and computers and settled

into their seats.

“Guys, first I want to thank you for giving me the

last hour to get my mind clear, in addition to

getting some paperwork done. Secondly, I want

to share a little of what I’ve been doing with you

since we missed our Social Skills lesson for this

morning. As you know I’m writing a book, and

Scott asked if I would give copies to all of you

when I was done, and I said that probably wasn’t

going to happen because of the content of the

book. But that got me thinking, and I’ve tried to

tone down as much as I could to make it so

maybe there would be parts that you could read.”

I stood in front of them as I spoke.

“I’ve been working on a chapter, and I finished it

last night, and right now it has one cuss word in

it, and it’s not bad, so I thought I would share this

one chapter with you. Do any of you want to hear

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it?” I teased. Every hand in the room shot up in

agreement. I strolled to my book bag and pulled

out a copy of the chapter that I had been

proofing, and returned to the front of the room. I

grabbed a free chair, spun it around, and started

reading a chapter entitled “My Bodyguard.” The

guys responded well, and when it was over they

gave me a standing ovation. David asked if it was

true, and I told him it was absolutely true, except

for the people’s names, which I had to change.

Another student, Kevin, raised his hand and

asked, “Mr. Love, you wrote that? Cuz that

sounds like a
real
book.” He was serious, and we

all knew it. The class exploded in laughter,

including Kevin, though, when he laughed for a

few seconds, he asked, “What?” with a dazed look

on his face. The other boys assured him that I

had written it, and we were laughing at and with

him. Kevin finally got the joke and laughed

again. This made us all laugh harder still.

378

After the laughter died down, I told them

everything I had learned about research over the

course of writing my book. Though I had

mentioned it to them before, the idea of writing a

book became real to my students after hearing a

chapter and they had seen some of the old court

documents I happened to have in my book bag. I

told them about researching my family

background, talking to different people at various

newspapers, police departments, courts and

hospitals, and trying to get vital records in order

to get all of my details right. While they were

impressed that I was
really
writing a book, the

guys were most impressed when I gave real world

examples of having used all of the resources I had

taught them to use.

Speaking with my students about my research

and writing allowed me to detach from it all. It

became an academic issue, and I was able to

speak to my students as a teacher discussing

research techniques; my brain clicked into that

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familiar and comfortable teaching mode. My

anxiety lifted, and the kids brought me back to

our reality, the reality that we had made with and

for each other. Soon the day was rolling along,

and we all got through it together, just as we

always do.

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