Children who are in my classroom to learn. Children who are in my classroom because their parents love them dearly. Children whose parents want the best for them.

I learn so much about who they are, where they come from, how they’re raised, what their dreams are, who they love. They write their stories. And boy, do some of them have stories to tell.

Stories of fear. Of poverty. Of attempted kidnappings. Of actual kidnappings. Of violence. Of arduous journeys. Of near starvation. Of cold nights. Meager possessions. Endless red tape. Parents left behind. Siblings left behind. Sadness and struggles. Heartache and love. Family and sacrifice. Hardwork and gratitude, perseverance and pride.

In my classroom we share voices and dreams and experiences and connections and empathy and understanding.

From these children’s stories I’ve learned so much about what bravery and love really look like.

We share our most precious parts of us and we become family. And I will continue to do my best to keep my classroom a safe place.

But as I read these articles and see the footage about ICE showing up at schools, my blood boils and runs cold all at the same time. Because while I’ve done my best to keep my classroom a safe place to learn and grow, we already know schools can be far from safe. Gun violence is a real threat.

And now, so is government-sanctioned trauma.

Teachers go into this job because we love children. All children. And when they hurt, we hurt.

Dear God, please be with these children and their aching, breaking hearts. And please, dear God, keep these children safe.