The Note

I could tell by the way Sarah read the creased sheet of binder paper, that she hadn’t written the bold, curly cursive. But I wondered if it had been written to her. Part of me said, take it from her, and part of me said, let her finish.

She handed it to me later on our way to the library.

“I found this folded up in my desk,” she said, “but I can’t figure out who wrote it. They’re 16.”

Eighty-five sixth-graders rotate through my class each day, and the oldest student is 12 at this time of year. Maybe one of them was the recipient of the missive that opened with,

“Sup dude,

Sorry about not going to the movies with you or calling you to tell you. Me and my parents were yelling and arguing about it for like an hour and like in the end I got grounded – poo! I’m gonna like get a divorce from my parents and move in with a friend, well, when I’m 16, which is in a few weeks - - yippee! I can’t find anybody who will let me live with them. I haven’t told my parents about it yet tho. I won’t ‘till I figure it all out. Hopefully it’s soon ‘cause I can’t stand my parents. All’s they do is yell at me and say how “lazy” and stupid I am …”

The last part bothered me more than the misspelled words and run-on sentences. Yes, kids rant against authority, especially during their teen years, but did the parents of this girl really tell her how lazy and stupid she was? Did they think they were motivating her to do better? Or were they repeating what they heard when they were 16-in-a-few-weeks?

A news report late last month from Medford, Oregon compared a local increase in young runaways with that of the nation. It told of six teenage boys who live together on the Medford streets; they care for and train other runaways to dodge both the police and predators without starving or freezing to death.

The leader said he always tries to turn them toward home, but most refuse to go. Some are as young as 12.

The article continued, blaming foreclosures and other financial woes as the cause of increased family pressures affecting younger and younger children, many of whom are forced out by stressed-out, spent-out parents.

The news wasn’t pretty, and I thought of the note writer. I hoped she wouldn’t run. I hoped I could find out who she was. And I hoped I could do more to ensure that her parents would see her value, her promise, her potential before it was too late.

Regardless of their age, or yours, tell you children today that you love them. And if you can reach them, put your arms around them and say it again.