I used to do breakfast duty. I saw them – hair unbrushed, shoes untied, eyes tired or scared or sad. You know who I’m talking about. The ones who consistently forget their backpacks, their homework, their field trip permission slips. The ones who act out because it’s easier than speaking out about the pain in their past or the fear in their present. The LOUD ones. The quiet ones. The ones who smell like B.O. or worse. The ones whose fingernails are black under the rims. The ones who lie. The ones who take things that don’t belong to them. The ones who want seconds and thirds when the food is free. You know who I’m talking about. These are the kids who keep coming, day after day. The ones who are NEVER absent, the ones who are the reasons we take mental health days and keep that bottle of Barefoot in the back of the cupboard – just in case.