She wrote about it in 6th period. It was her freewrite. I'm teaching Othello, and I was trying to get the students to think about Iago's manipulation of Roderigo. So I had them define manipulation. Then asked them to freewrite about a time where they manipulated someone or was manipulated themselves. I used some light example about how my brother Tony used to manipulate me to do his chores. I told them to keep it light...as if I knew I was asking for trouble.

I had no idea that the beautiful girl from 6th period would write about being raped when she was seven by her "mother's friend." I wasn't even planning on collecting their work, but as I was cruising the room being teacher stealth like, like I do. Her face and aura was so sad. I asked her if she was okay. She shook her head no. Then I looked at her paper and realized that she had written an entire page when I only asked them to write a paragraph. I asked her if I could read it. And well. I can't and don't really want to repeat the details she gave. I put it in my pocket, took a deep breath and kept cuising the room.

I almost broke down right there. I almost fell to my knees and covered her with my arms as if I could still protect her. But that was my shit, oozing out, mixed with hers.

Instead, I wrote her a post-it note that told her I knew, too well, about what she was sharing, and asked her to stay after class. When I stuck the note to her desk and kept as I was cruising, she screamed "yes," immediately and loudly. Damn these kids just want to be heard.

I guess I aske the right questions. Ask 175 kids to write about manipulation and the probability is that one of them is gonna share about being raped.

When the bell rang, I asked her how much time she had because I didn't know how to deep to go with her. She had to meet a friend to find out about some dance thing. She promised she'd tell the friend to wait for her and return to me. But she didn't. I was almost relieved. But more troubled.

I'm mandated by law to report it in 24 hours, and I need to tell her first. So I called her and left my cell number with her sister.

Her father phoned me 20 minutes ago. He said that she was asleep and not feeling well. He said he was worried about her. I told him that she shared something confidential with me, and I didn't want to violate her trust. He understood. I felt his sincereity. He told me that he just came back into her life, and frankly didn't know that much about her. But promised to keep my confidence.

I told him. He cried. He told me that he was abused too as a child. Damn why is all this shit ooziong all over me? I told him that I was reporting it tommorow and that she would need his unconditional love and acceptance. He assured me that he could give it. He came back into her life and wasn't going anywhere. We talked for almost 30 minutes.

What the fukk is going on? I wanted my students to trust me so that they could take risks in their writing. I really truly didn't know that trust me, meant all this.

Yes I feel purpose.
But I feel empty and I can't cry. I just want to cry.