#no the seventh grader cannot read he did not learn HOW

[deviousdayz]

I keep seeing posts about seventh graders not knowing how to read or write properly and when you think about it, you need to think about Covid and how it affected learning.

Someone who is in seventh grade right now was in third grade when the coronavirus hit. They didn’t get out of “online learning” until fifth grade. Those grade levels are the basic building blocks to academics. That’s when you learn comprehension skills with things like AR reading and istation, basic writing skills, and the basics of math. Everything that is the basic most smallest part of academics happens from 3rd to 5th grade.

These kids have shaky academic foundations, and trying to build on top of that is never going to work. You cannot expect someone who did not have comprehension based assignments for two years of their life to know how to write a three page essay or how to read one. You cannot expect someone who doesn’t know the parts of speech to write at grade-level! You cannot expect them to know anything, or to be able to learn at the regular rate of a seventh grader who did not go through online learning at the beginning of their academic careers!!!

STOP TRYING TO TEACH THEM SEVENTH GRADE SHIT!! Teach them what they MISSED

[carelessannie]

maybe it goes like this: steve builds his pack (part 1)

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Read on A03

Read the Tony courts Peter wip

Stucky focus (Steve x Bucky)

A sweet, slightly angsty backstory in three parts (ending in Stuckony).

Major warnings: D/S Au, A/B/O Au, Middle/High School Au, talk about family death, public non-sexual submission, steve beats the shit out of some bullies

---

Maybe it goes like this:

Steve can’t remember life with a pack, but knows for certain that his Ma grieves for them. Ever since he was a boy, he would catch his Ma staring at fading photos of strangers, wiping tears from her eyes, and denying it when Steve would ask why do they make you cry.

It’s not until later in his life that Steve learns the truth about pack bonds, about the decision an Alpha makes in life to form a familial or an intimate bond with their packmates. His Ma refuses to let him learn about packs from school, instead sitting him down across the table, like an adult, Steven, and he learns about orientations and secondary genders when he’s nine years old.

His Ma explains the way kids will turn into adults: first establishing their orientation as Dominant, Submissive, or Versatile, and later in high school, presenting as Alpha, Beta or Omega. She threads their fingers together, and asks Steve if he can notice what she is, and he concentrates real hard, trying to decide, as his Ma laughs.

It’s okay, Steven, you won’t be able to tell what other people are until your own body has developed.

Steve nods, pretending like he understands, and asks his mom about her presentation. She gives him a sad— sad? — smile, and says she’s a Submissive Beta.

It’s silent as Steve puts those two things together with the strong, beautiful woman he admires as his Ma, and is still confused. He asks about packs, and Alphas, and what intimate and familial packs are— gaining an amused shake of the head from his Ma.

Why don’t I just tell you about my pack, yes?

Steve nods eagerly, desperate to hear the story of a family he never had,

My pack was intimate, Steven, which means we all loved each other very much and decided to live together. I met my— our Alpha when I was in nursing school, before you were born. She was already mated to two Omegas, and they had been searching for a Beta to join their pack. We fell in love. I met her Omegas, and all four of us were very compatible— do you remember what that means, hun?

Mhm, like when you know you belong with someone even more than anyone else.

Right, good, so we all belonged to each other, understand? We lived in our Alpha’s house, and all of us worked jobs in the city. About a year after joining her pack, I met your Pa. He transferred to the hospital I worked at, and he was also a Beta, like me, but he was Dominant. I introduced him to my pack, and they loved him too. Within a year, we were mated and I had you. Makes sense, Steven?

Yes, Ma. But… What happened to them?

At this, his Ma goes silent, breathing deeply before finishing the story for her son.

Do you remember the difference between packmates and bondmates, Steven?

Um. One is forever, right?

Yes, good, if you are in love or committed to a pack, they are your packmates, whether you are intimate or not. But sometimes, two people, or a whole pack, want to make their relationship last forever, and they become bondmates. All people have the private part of their necks, remember? You have to know, sweetheart, the only way to start a bond is to bite each other there while mating. We’ll wait to talk about mating until you’re in middle school, okay hun?

Yes, Ma.

Good boy. Now. The other important thing about bonding is that it ties your soul to another person’s forever. Any person of any orientation can bond with whoever they’d like, as long as they’re compatible. But you have to know, and this is so important, that once you bond, your souls become one. My whole pack was bonded, but… Daisy… hun, our Alpha died of cancer. She got very sick, and died. And when one bondmate dies, everyone who shares the bond gets sick and dies too.

… Ma, but. Why didn’t you die?

I decided, once I got pregnant with you, that I didn’t want to risk bonding to my pack. Your father and I loved each other so much, and you were the symbol of our love, not a bite. And I’m thankful, sweetheart, because I get to be your Ma and watch you grow up.

Do you miss them, Ma?

Every day, Steven.

Steve doesn’t remember his Ma mentioning her pack again after that day, but he did start to notice that she would get sad a few times a year, around forgotten birthdays and anniversaries. She would spend all of her days working hard to provide for the two of them, and always made sure Steve knew he was loved and valued, even when she denied herself the opportunities to find a new pack.

Looking back, Steve can see that they didn’t have a lot of luxuries or comforts, and definitely didn’t live in the best part of town. He had a few friends in Bushwick, growing up in the nineties it was a poor place to live, but they were perfectly happy to play in the streets during the day, and lock their doors tight at night.

As he ties up his laces, he thinks about his small family and is immeasurably happy. There’s no one he loves more in the world than his Ma. He hates the thought of getting on the bus and driving far away to switch middle schools, but his Ma reassures him that he will love meeting new kids and making new friends.

So he grabs his backpack, tightening the knots holding the straps in place, and hops down the stairs, only sparing one look to his Ma on the front step.

It’s a long bus ride to the school, more than thirty minutes. Over the summer, his Ma found out that the school system wanted him to transfer to a better school because of budget... something and overcrowding—? He’s actually not quite sure why he can’t go back to his old school, but his Ma made it seem like William Alexander Middle School thinks he’s special and has asked for him specifically. So yeah, Steve is really excited.

He’s going into Seventh grade, and gets his own locker, and gets to go to art class.

Steve spends the whole bus ride reviewing the schedule he already has memorized, and comparing it with the school map that his Ma printed for him, tracing his finger around from class to class. Bus to Nurse to Homeroom to Algebra to English to Nurse to Lunch to Gym to Art to Nurse to Bus.

The day passes this way, Steve confidently following his map around the school and taking notes in his small notebook. It’s not until Gym that he gets nervous, remembering his last asthma attack, and hopes the nurse told his gym teacher about his restrictions as he files into the gym and takes a seat on the floor.

“Steve Rogers?”

“Here.”

“No, Steve, I need to talk to you,” Steve looks up and sees his gym teacher, a really large man with a beard, waving him to the front of the class. The other kids turn to whisper to each other as Steve walks forward.

“I— did—”

“Steve, I have a note here from the nurse, saying you cannot participate in most exercises because of your health issues. Because of this, I’m going to suggest you join the sixth grade class, which will go at a better pace for you, and let Mr. Howlett help you further, okay?”

He feels his entire face flush dark red as the other students behind him whisper and laugh. He’s a seventh grader, not a baby sixth grader. He holds eye contact with the gym teacher, folding his arms across his chest, but still grinds out a, “Yes, Sir,” like his Ma would want him to.

“Good, it’s settled. Here, Mr. Howlett has sent James to show you where to go.”

Steve turns to find a small, smiling boy waiting for him at... parade rest? What—

“Alright Stevie, let’s go,” and the boy turns on his heel, marching across the gym as Steve scrambles to keep up.

James slows down slightly, letting Steve catch him, “First things first, my name is James Buchanan Barnes, but most people call me Jamie. I hate it, but it’s better than nothin',” he looks over at Steve, eyeing him up and down, “Second, Mr. Howlett is friends with my dad. You stick with me, and this class will be a breeze, capiche?”

Steve swears his eyes are falling out of his head, and he nods his affirmation.

“Good,” is all Jamie responds with before grabbing his hand, tugging him to join a younger, smaller group of kids in the gym. As they approach, Jamie lifts their hands in triumph, “I found him!”

Feeling betrayed, Steve rips his hand free in embarrassment, but Jamie just smiles wider and pulls him towards their gym teacher, Mr. Howlett.

How this man could be bigger and scarier than the last teacher, Steve doesn’t know, but refuses to hide behind Jamie as they approach, and instead stands up even taller. Mr. Howlett makes a grunting noise, flipping through a few papers on his clipboard, before looking up at the two boys.

“Rogers?”

Before he can respond, Jamie pipes up, “Yeah! Here’s his note from the nurse, and he’s my friend and— and can I help him out? Please?”

It’s pretty clear that Mr. Howlett couldn’t care less either way, but all Steve can see is the raw, eager look in Jamie’s face as he begs their teacher to help Steve.

Huh, he thinks, the only other time I've seen this look is when Ma begs the pharmacist to refill my inhaler prescription when her paycheck's late.

“Whatever, Jamie, just keep outta trouble, ya hear?”

“Yes, sir!” Jamie delivers, with a crisp solute to match, and pulls Steve towards the back of the class.

They settle down, and Jamie keeps holding onto his hand. Steve glances over and sees Jamie quickly look away, suddenly shy.

“Jamie?”

The smaller boy looks over, hopefully, “Yeah, Stevie?”

“Thank you, I didn’t think I’d get a friend on my first day, much less the best one in the school.”

Jamie ducks his head again before turning his brilliant smile in Steve’s direction, and Steve continues before he has a chance to respond, “and Jamie?”

“Yeah, Stevie?”

“I swear, cross my heart, that I’ll find you a better nickname.”

Jamie’s eyes widen, and then he’s laughing, loud and doubled over. He grips harder onto Steve, who can’t help laughing along, even as they get funny looks from the class and a gruff, c’mon, quiet down, from Mr. Howlett.

Shaking his head, Jamie tries to catch his breath as he responds, “ I— I think— I’d love that— Stevie.”

And all Steve can do is smile back.

---

It takes a week for Steve to settle on Bucky, and when Bucky says he loves it, Steve runs all the way home to tell his Ma.

---

Steve and Bucky have Gym class and Lunch together almost every day for a year, and spend the whole summer waiting for their schedules to be mailed, hoping for at least two classes together.

They get their wish.

---

Halfway through eighth grade, Steve gets sent home with a stamped letter from his guidance counselor. For the past few weeks, the guidance counselor has asked him and Bucky to have lunch in her office, and the boys always shrug and agree. Today, after finishing lunch, she hands both boys an official letter for their guardians to discuss with them.

“Whaddaya think’s in it, Stevie?” Bucky asks, squinting at the letter as he holds it up to the light. The boys are heading straight from lunch to the nurse’s office to get Steve’s medicine, like they do every day, and Bucky grips tight to his hand, intertwining their fingers, like he does every day.

“I dunno, Buck. Maybe she’s gonna tell your Ma that you smell and needa bath,” the comment earns Steve a light shove, and an affectionate, “Punk,” in response.

“Jerk,” Steve replies, a reflex, and reaches out to pull Bucky closer, “I wouldn’t worry ‘bout it, Buck. She’s been real nice up ‘til now—”

“Yeah, I know, I just don’t wanna bother my dad if it’s somethin’ bad.”

They fall silent for a moment, both boys knowing how busy and strict Bucky’s dad can be. Steve sees Bucky’s head drop, lost, as he looks at the letter in his small hands. He slows them to a stop, turns Bucky around to face him in the school hallway, and hums in approval as Bucky meets his eyes and slowly tilts his head back. He grabs onto both shoulders, squeezing lightly, and pulls Bucky up close. Fingers tighten in the back of Steve’s shirt as Bucky clings to him, and he nuzzles into his best friend's hair, comforting, while rubbing across his shoulders.

“So sweet, Bucky. There’s no way your dad could be mad at you, alright? Believe me?”

He gazes down into soft, glazed gray eyes, and freezes. Bucky is slightly trembling against him, looking at him like he’s a revelation. Steve feels a calm settle into his bones as he reacts purely on instinct, reaching up to grip Bucky around the neck.

A few things happen in quick succession.

First, Bucky’s eyes roll up into his head, breath leaving his body in a woosh along with a high pitched whimper.

Second, Steve widens his stance, straightening his back, and Bucky sinks, fast, to his knees, gripping onto Steve’s thighs for balance.

And then, out of the haze—

“STEVE ROGERS, YOU RELEASE THAT BOY IMMEDIATELY,” and the trance is broken.

Steve is horrified to see Bucky curled up on the floor, and he stumbles back. Large arms wrap around him, herding him away from—

“STEVIE, no, please—” the voice of his best friend, his Bucky, follows him down the hallway along with small broken cries, and Steve fights hard against the strong arms that hold him,

“C’mon, kid, it’s okay. Just gonna call your Ma and getcha settled,” but Steve doesn’t care.

His boy is back there, somewhere, calling for him, needing him, and he can’t get back, he can’t protect, he can’t save, he can’t— breathe.

---

It’s okay, hun. Shh, sweet boy, it’s okay.

— Sarah, he had Jamie on his knees, submitting—

— no, I don’t think Jamie has stopped crying yet—

— only a few more months, it’ll be fine—

---

Steve wakes in his bed at home, confused.

“B— bucky?”

“Hey, sweetheart,” his Ma pushes past the door, “you up alright?”

He blinks his eyes a few times, disoriented, “Where… what—”

“Shh, hun,” she holds out a glass of water, which Steve takes gratefully,

“Ma, where’s Bucky?”

His Ma looks nervous, and straightens the sheets on the bed, “Steven, Bucky is just fine. How much do you remember about what happened?”

The memories are sticky, “I was just hugging Bucky. He was scared that his dad would be angry about the— oh! The letter from the counselor. Ma, I have an important letter for you. Officially stamped and everything,” his Ma just nods, so he continues, “I dunno, I was hugging Bucky in the hallway, and then something was… different. Like really heavy between us? And all I wanted was to keep him safe, but then… Then they took him, and—”

Steve looks into his Ma’s eyes, suddenly horrified, “I hurt him, didn’t I?”

He must’ve, that would be the only reason they knocked him out and separated him from his— from his—

“No, Steven, not like that. You absolutely did not hurt him,” then what... “You were the perfect Dominant, hun, and it’s not your fault, okay sweetheart?”

“Dominant? Ma…”

“Hush, Steven. I’m going to tell you something important, and you’re going to listen to me,” he nods once, so she continues, “the letter from your counselor was very important, Steven. Remember how boys and girls start to present around your age? Your guidance counselor has been monitoring signs of presentation between you and Bucky, signs that were confirmed today in the hallway. Steven, today you presented as a Dominant, and Bucky submitted to you. Do you know what this means?”

“T— that we’re… compatible?”

His Ma nods solemnly, “Yes, exactly. The doctors are not sure yet if Bucky is Submissive or Versatile, but you are a strong Dominant. My strong boy.”

“But Ma, why was it so bad?”

She sits on the edge of the bed, scooting so that she can pull Steve closer,

“Because, hun, both of you dropped.”

“Dropped...”

Ma hums, finding the words to explain,

“A lot of times, when a Dominant and Submissive are together, they go into a headspace. It’s calm, it feels right and certain and instinctual. Usually a Dominant will take more control, and the Submissive will allow it, naturally. If this doesn’t happen in a safe, private space, or if it’s interrupted, both parties are at risk of dropping. That means you could feel sick, lost, and upset— and even panic or become depressed,”

Exactly like what happened to me, Steve thinks,

“— and with you and Bucky, you both passed out from the stress. That’s why I need to know if you’re okay, Steven,”

It makes sense. Now that Steve knows what to look for, he can easily recognize not only moments where Bucky has submitted easily to him, but also moments where Bucky challenged him and he ended up claiming Bucky’s submission in an argument. His best friend, the boy who fights for him and is always at his side— it’s overwhelming. All Steve wants to know is—

“Ma, please, what happened to my Bucky?”

“Steven, don’t—“

“I need to know—“

“He’s still in a drop, hun.”

Steve swings out of the bed, “How? It’s been hours,” he hears his Ma stutter out something, but feels a resolve settle, “I’ve gotta be with him, Ma.”

“No.”

“But—“

“I said no. His pack is sending me updates, but was very clear that they want you to stay away from Bucky for now. He needs time to recover and understand what’s happened, as do you. And, as your principal recommended, both of you are switching lunch periods and transferring classes, to help reduce the stress of being around each other, is that clear?”

Not even sure he’s heard right past stay away from Bucky, Steve drops back into bed in shock. No more Bucky? He can’t even comprehend what his day would look like without his best friend next to him, and just like that, he’s destroyed one of most important relationships in his life.

Hot, wet tears fall through the night as he wraps around his sheets, wishing he was holding onto a smaller, dark haired boy with crystal blue eyes.

—

There are only two months left until summer, and they feel like two years without Bucky.

Steve cries himself to sleep for the first week.

In the second week, he tries talking to the adults in charge, all of whom give him pity and suggest he’ll get over it and move on.

By the third week, Steve is angry. He snarls at classmates, teachers, anyone who looks at him the wrong way. He gets sent home with a note about his behavior, and his Ma just gives him more useless pity.

During the fourth week, he’s walking the hall to his last period of the day, when he hears a plea for help and the slamming of a door echo from the boy’s bathroom. He runs inside, ready to take down a bully, and sees two eighth graders pinning someone to the bathroom stall. He steps in just as they punch the boy across the jaw,

“Hey assholes, why don’tcha pick on someone your own size?”

The boys whirl around and sneer, dropping the smaller kid in a heap on the ground.

“Look what we have here, a pint sized savior,” the larger of the two smiles wickedly, as he sizes up Steve, and the other one delivers a kick to their initial target for good measure, “Wonder where you got the balls, tiny?”

Steve throws his fists up, and the boys smile even wider, amused. The larger bully lunges for him, suddenly, and Steve absorbs his tackle, trying to roll them around on the floor to get on top. He delivers a well aimed elbow to the guy���s throat, which has him sputtering, and drives his knee down between the kid’s legs, earning him a satisfying howl.

“Yo, kid, it’s okay, c'mon it was just a joke—“

The other boy’s words barely register as Steve lands one, two, three hard right hooks to the bully’s face, before pushing off his chest and standing to his feet. The second kid scoots past Steve, hauling his friend up and escaping out the entrance.

“St— Stevie?”

All of the rage expels from Steve’s body as he turns to find Bucky smiling up at him from the floor where the bullies had dropped him just moments earlier.

He approaches slowly, and notices just how bruised Bucky is, just how tired he looks. Steve catalogs the blood on his face, dark circles under his eyes, possibly dislocated shoulder, and gaunt expression with care, touching as little as possible.

“We should— we should go to the nurse, Buck. It doesn’t look good.”

Bucky nods and attempts to get to his feet, but lets out a weak groan and sinks back down to the floor.

“C’mon, jerk,” Steve teases, trying his best to hide concern and devastation, pulling Bucky back to his feet on his good side, “do I hafta carry ya the whole way?”

There’s a weak laugh that could also be a sob from Bucky, and Steve tries to take more of his weight as they limp towards the nurse’s office.

He feels hopeful after hearing a barely whispered, “Punk,” in return.

---

The nurse lets the two boys cling to each other on the small cot, and proceeds to call both of their packs, asking for both kids to go home early for the day.

Steve glares at the nurse the whole time, knowing that he only has a few precious moments with his best friend before they’re separated again.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah, Stevie?” the younger boy looks up adoringly, “you okay?”

“I’m fine, Buck, how— are you okay?” He does his best to hold back tears that are welling up in his eyes, and enjoys the solid feeling of Bucky, safe and warm in his arms.

Small fingers run over his cheeks, wiping away a few stray tears that had slipped free, and Bucky’s smile just grows, “So much better now, that’s for sure.” He wiggles a bit, and Steve laughs lightly, gripping his friend’s waist tighter.

He leans down, brushing his nose against the shell of Bucky’s ear, and whispers, “Nothing has been the same without you, Bucky.”

A shiver goes through Bucky’s body, Steve feels it by proximity, and Bucky remains silent, until Steve hears one hitched breath, then another. He pulls away slightly, looking into Bucky’s face as the smaller boy dissolves into tears. Bucky pulls himself closer, burying his face in Steve’s neck as great, giant sobs tear him apart. All Steve can do is shush him gently, kiss him on the head, and rock them back and forth, waiting for his Bucky to calm down as the minutes pass in silence.

“I can’t say I’m surprised,”

Steve looks up, turning his body to guard Bucky’s vulnerable one, and sees Bucky’s Beta father and Omega mother standing in the doorway, expressions both shocked and resolved.

“Steve, can you tell us what happened?”

It takes a few minutes for Steve to explain how he saved Bucky, and when he finishes, he watches the Beta and Omega exchange a knowing look, before they take a seat near the nurse’s cot. Neither move to take Bucky away, which is perfectly fine with Steve, who just holds his friend closer. A quick glance gown confirms Bucky has stopped crying and fallen asleep, sniffling lightly.

“We need to talk to you, Steve,” he hears Bucky’s dad call for him, and reluctantly looks up at both of them, noticing the guidance counselor also waiting in the doorway. He nods to allow them to continue,

“I’m afraid we haven’t handled this situation well, son,” Bucky’s dad continues, “and it seems to have hurt both of you boys. I’m sorry, and want you to know we only wanted the best for Jamie.”

“I get it, sir,” Steve shifts slightly, uncomfortable with the sudden attention. “Does this mean I can see Bucky again?”

The Beta leans forward on his seat, making sure to focus on the younger boys, “Yes, Steve, we want you and Jamie to keep being friends, at least until you go to high school next year.”

He can’t even help the relieved sigh and small smile that take over his face, letting his eyes fall shut as he relaxes back onto the bed. Good. He doesn’t even spare a thought for their friendship after middle school, completely convinced that in this moment, him and Bucky will be together, forever.

---

Steve and Bucky fall back into their old routine, classes and lunchtime back to normal, and the news of Steve’s fight spreads like wildfire throughout the school. Both boys find themselves surrounded by new friends, many of whom knew Bucky but hadn’t hung out with Steve before, and he enjoys watching his best friend thrive in newfound popularity.

As summer approaches, Bucky starts talking more about going out for football in eighth grade. Steve always knew he loved sports, and had often encouraged Buck to keep playing baseball when the younger boy would get frustrated, so he naturally pushes his friends to try out. What he isn’t prepared for is how little he sees of Bucky over the summer. He barely notices at first, still seeing Bucky a few days a week, but then he starts to get rain checks on his invitations.

“Sorry, Stevie, rain check— I’m doing drills with the guys all day,”

“Aw man, rain check? I’m at conditioning every day this week and literally can’t get free,”

“Maybe rain check for this weekend? The guys are running plays all day, and I just gotta be there,”

“— you understand, right Stevie?”

And Steve does understand. He decides to give Bucky a little more space, only asking to hang out once a week, if that, and focuses on preparing for high school. He spends more time with his Ma, and she helps him pick out a brand new backpack from Walmart. When he protests, saying his old backpack is just fine, she shakes her head and insists on buying a product that will last. He fills it with notebooks and new pencils and pens and even a pack of colored pencils with a shiny dual sharpener.

It’s a few weeks before school starts that his Ma receives a letter from the school system. He’s decorating the cover of his notebook, laying across their living room floor, when his Ma comes and sits next to him on the floor.

“Steven, I have something to tell you.”

“Okay, Ma, one sec,” he takes a few moments to gather his pencil shavings, packing up his colored pencils, putting them in the correct order, and closing his notebook, stacking everything neatly on top.

“What’s wrong, Ma?”

“Remember when you went into middle school, and the government had to move you to William Alexander because the school closest to us was overcrowded?” Steve nods, he does remember, “Well, they don’t have the same issue with the high school here. So you’re going to be going Bushwick High, which is just a couple blocks away from us.”

“Oh, I thought I was gonna be going to school in Park Slope again, near Bucky?”

“I know, Steven,” his Ma gives a small pat to his head, before standing up and heading for the kitchen, “why don’t we have a snack and talk about it more? They sent a list of classes, and you get to choose electives and everything.”

Steve tries calling Bucky that night, eager to tell him about his news, but just gets the answering machine. He tries two more times that week, and comes up blank.

Within a few weeks, Steve is walking into Brooklyn High, confident and proud, and barely spares a thought about missing his best friend at his side.

[fictionalboysarejustbetter]

Friendships from Afar

Distance creates a barrier of trust. There are no worries. There is always a safety net to fall back on that protects from hurt or pain. Beginning in second grade, my personal goal had always been to find a singular, perfect friend who lives far away. We could talk openly with each other, and I would have the ability to be myself. The plan is that years later, I would meet this person in the weirdest of circumstances, and we would be best friends forever. It’s even better if this friend is a guy, so then we can both fall in love and get married to live happily ever after.

In second grade, the entire class received school pen pals, and while my fourth-grade pen pal was not ideal, I knew I loved this “secret” letter writing system where I am just Rebecca, nothing more or less. Moving into fifth grade, Mrs. Smith found me a pen pal from China. Through our teachers, we would send each other letters back and forth until the school year was over. From this moment onward, I was hooked; pen pals didn’t care what I looked like or how shy I was or how involved my mother was with the school, I could just be me, and they only knew the information I told them. Without asking for help, I scavenged through the internet, trying to collect pen pals as if they were Webkinz. I was convinced this perfect friend could only be found on pen pal websites that look like they were made by my fellow fifth graders.

Starting in sixth grade, I would spend night after night stalking the profiles of random teenagers on Students of the World, a supposedly “safe” pen pal website for kids. Gender? Who cares. Age? About 10-16. Likes? Reading, of course. Language? English please. I would then press search and sift through hundreds of profiles, finding the perfect candidates to be my best friend. This process was extremely predictable, including:

The teenage boys “looking” for a relationship:

Nathaniel, Age 14, UK

HOBBIES:

Photo

Trips

Cinema, Television

Sports

Reading

Painting, Drawing, Art

Hi! Are you looking for a cool guy to write to? Send me a nice message otherwise you’ll miss something priceless. 

I can speak:

English, French

The liars that claimed they like everything and speak every language:

Janhvi, Age 16, USA

HOBBIES:

Photo

Trips

Clothes

Cinema, Television

Sports

Sciences

Music

Reading

Animals, Nature

Cooking

Collections

Painting, Drawing, Art

Hello !!👩I'm Janhvi .I like to travel.I have traveled in to many countries .Such as india , sri lanka, china, france and more.I like make new friends.message me soon guys.👭👫OUR LIFE IS CHANGE , BUT FRIENDSHIP NEVER BE CHANGE.

I can speak:

English French German Italian Spanish Arabic Chinese Japanese Korean

The students making a profile for class:

Chaya, Age 13, USA

HOBBIES:

Clothes

Cinema, Television

Music

Reading

Animals, Nature

I am looking for a penpal for our school project. I would like to find some in Atlanta, Georgia.

I can speak:

English

I would scroll through these profiles so constantly that I rarely found new profiles. I was judging every profile based off of the person’s name, biography, age, likes, languages, everything. Most people without a profile picture wouldn’t receive an email from me. I tried to avoid messaging anyone from the United States unless they sounded like a major fangirl or fanboy over the books I liked. I automatically favored anyone from Europe, especially if they had an interesting name. But regardless if anyone from anywhere sent me a message first, I would respond back at least once.

Shortly after the search began, I received a message from a girl named Julia from Australia. She and I were the same age, we both needed a friend, and we both liked reading, animals, music, and clothes. Quickly, my life began to revolve around the fourteen hours that always stood between Australia and the United States. Throughout sixth and seventh grade, we would be constantly messaging on the messaging app “kik,” confiding everything deep and useless to each other like best friends do:

Becca says:

Hey, how are you?

Julia says:

Everyones well... Mum and dad start the long drive to melbourne this weekend so everythings kinda topsy turvy :p

How is your family and pets? Im sorry for my rudeness that i didnt ask earlier

Nearlytime for school?

Becca says:

Lol that is fine! I get to school around 8, so normally ill drop off right before, lol i try to remember to tell you but i tend to forget. Theyre good though. Willie and Apricot are happy my grandma left :-P mom and dad are helping me with my ancestry project and exploding of happiness because I got a position in that volleyball club and my sister has been working and spending money :-P her favorite thing to do

Julia says:

Ahh the christmas spirit... Lol is there anyone in the house who loves your grandmother?

Becca says:

Lol we love her because shes family, but no one loves her when shes here if you know what i mean.

What’s up?

For two years, the conversations would continue for hours, as we both wait anxiously for the “ding” on our tablets, indicating a new message. Julia’s father was a firefighter who fought the nasty bushfires that haunted their country. I interviewed him as my hero for my final paper and presentation in my eighth grade English class. I interviewed him through email after our initial plans to Skype were sidetracked by the active wildfires, and I so proudly presented the information about him that you would have thought he was my father.

One day, Julia told me about her divorced parents. Then, she told me about the twins her mom just gave birth to. Then, she explained that she actually has a twin brother and no younger siblings at all. Then, she became an aunt to twin nephews. Then, her house burned down, and she had to move across the country. Then, her parents just moved across town. The stories continued and continued only within months of each other, not adding up in any way, shape, or form. With hope still in my heart, I sent her all three books of The Hunger Games trilogy since she really wanted to read them, but two months later, the books came back in the mail as undeliverable. The address did not exist.

Unable to admit defeat or accept the idea that my best friend might not be real despite all of the evidence, I started to panic. What if she is catfishing me? I’ve seen that show before, and I even gave “her” my address. Whoever this person is could easily come to my house and kidnap me...maybe I should tell my mom and warn the police. But maybe, she just has a really hard life, and she compulsively lies to make herself feel better? Maybe, she just really wants attention, and that’s why none of her stories are adding up. Besides it could still be her, she may just be scared. She could have just lied and is younger than she said and is trying to sound cool to impress me.

With these panicked thoughts raging through my body like wildfire, I blocked her from kik and began to ignore her emails. I forced myself to just disappear, so then I would have nothing to worry about. I cannot trust that Julia is really Julia, so I will just watch “her” occasional emails come in, analyzing from afar who “she” may be. I’ll search for her on Google and Facebook and Instagram and Students of the World and anywhere else I can look. The emails would keep coming for years and years, but they never held much content to them, and I’m still left to question who “Julia” is.

My Julia investigation was stalled for now, and the void of not having a constant penpal to talk to quickly came back. Therefore, my search to find the perfect best friend needed to be expedited since Julia was certainly not cut out for the position. I continued to search Students of the World with my new smartphone every chance I had. In between games at volleyball competitions, Hope and I could be found by the nearest outlet on my phone, scouring the website for the perfect answers within someone’s profile. We would send out messages together to the nerdy fangirls and fanboys around our age. Every day during the bus ride home from school, Jenna and I looked through the website on our phones, judging everyone’s biographies and pictures. Jenna created a profile too, and we would have three-way Skype sessions with Sylvia from France until the two of them became too close and stopped inviting me to Skype with them.

Finally in April of ninth grade, I received a promising email from a 16-year-old boy from France:

To: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com From: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com

My name is Kristopher and Im from France !

I watched a few days ago Divergent and it made me want to read the books !

I see you like tv shows and video games as I do !

I am not fluent in English but I can talk to you !

If you want I can learn you French ! :)

Typically, I would spend about twenty minutes every day responding to emails from random penpals on my way home from school, but within the first three or so emails to a person, one of us would just stop responding. In regard to Kris, I generally liked video games, but I wasn’t obsessed with them, and I had a weird taste in TV, so we probably couldn’t talk about that much. But Divergent by Veronica Roth was my all-time favorite book. As soon as I read that word in the email, I knew I would be responding until he stopped responding to me. It had always been my goal to fall in love with a fanboy, especially one with the same taste in books and movies as me, so I immediately responded with:

To: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com From: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com

Hi Kristopher!

What part of France are you from? I live near Pittsburgh, PA, USA.

Yes, definitely read the books! They are amazing! I find myself gravitating towards video games and shows more than sports! :P

I don't know much of French as I take Spanish in school, but I'd love to learn some and help you with English as well!

Rebecca

He emailed me back within minutes, and we emailed for most of the evening, talking about books and food and the differences between the United States and France. That night though, my phone battery had died, and it was only for a few hours. After plugging it in, I found five unread messages from him, making sure I was okay.

To: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com From: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com

Lol it works ! :) Good courage to go back to school ! :)

To: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com From: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com

Hey sweetie 😆

To: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com From: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com

How are you Miss ?

To: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com From: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com

Do You use words like ain't or gonna ? 😆

To: fictionalboysarejustbetter@gmail.com From: coolfrenchboy@gmail.com

Are you OK ?

As soon as I read these messages, my heart fluttered a little. This was just the beginning of our constant messaging and talking. I happily responded to him, and within days, Kris was my perfect, new best friend. The random space he left between the last word and the punctuation of a sentence would drive me insane, but I didn’t have the heart to explain the process to him. We talked so consistently that it would probably be considered unhealthy, discussing pets, family, being the youngest child, aspirations, atheism, languages, food, books, video games, and everything else under the sun. I was stuck to my phone all day, and every time I picked it up, I waited in anticipation for a notification with his name and the random spaces between his words and the punctuation.

The six-hour time difference between the two of us meant nothing, with him staying up late and me getting up early. Between classes, we would sneak each other messages about how our days were going. My week-long field trip to San Antonio, Texas was spent either messaging him or scouting out an outlet to plug my phone into so that I could talk to him. The more access I had to Kris, the further I distanced myself from my friends and family. When my phone would die or I wouldn’t have reception, I would look around, annoyed by whoever the people around me were. Kris was the perfect friend I always wanted; he was my best friend, and I was his. Neither of us needed anyone else, and hopefully, all of our talking and flirting would lead to love which would lead to marriage.

The summer before tenth grade came, and Kris seemed to be growing distant. Supposedly, he was travelling all summer, and he would rarely have access to wifi. I counted down the days until he would be back home, and after one measly conversation, he disappeared again. I sent message after message, finally receiving a response about his brother pushing him in the pool and his phone being in his pocket at the time, so it was destroyed. The summer seemed to be surrounded by disappointment, but hopefully when we went back to school, our relationship would continue to be as strong as it was before.

Tenth grade began, and Kris was still busy all the time. Apparently if he kept up his hard work, he would be valedictorian. Since I couldn’t spend lunch chatting with him anymore, I bragged that I was basically dating this amazing French guy who is valedictorian at his school. Until October hit, and then I would receive the dreadful message that he has a girlfriend. Ironically, this only made our conversation stronger than it had ever been, and he even picked out my new haircut, sending me endless compliments on it. The next day, he sent another message, explaining that his girlfriend didn’t want us talking anymore so it would probably be best if we just stopped. I was bad at listening to these directions, following this conversation up with many, many new messages in attempts to strike a conversation with him again. These messages earned me a nice block from Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and Snapchat.

My only method of contact would now be email, so night after night instead of stalking Students of the World for new pen pals, I would send Kris emails. I now began to understand that feeling that I caused upon Julia, who may or may not have been Julia. Throughout October and November, I received a few responses that sounded like an automatic email reply, but one email in mid-November stood out, as it was one of the last ones I would receive from him.

To: thisismyname@gmail.com From: thisiscoolfrenchboysnewemail@gmail.com

Hello Becca,

I did act stupid and didn’t answer your messages at all. When I emailed you first, I never thought our friendship would get that strong !

Guess what, there used to be a time I was really in love with you, but I haven’t dared say so … The one biggest reason was the 6000 km that stand between us ! You were the one I loved talking to ! So I talked to you and you never waited to answer and neither did I.

I don’t know, something went wrong, time changed, I’m sorry I haven’t answered you for long, this is all my bad. I wish I could go back to past to fix this.

This message will never ever be able to patch things up, but it (I hope ) will tell you that I never forgot you .

My mother would tell me time and time again that any type of relationship separated by physical distance would never work. I had never believed her, but after receiving this email, I understood. Why had I ever believed that the perfect friendship would be through time differences of at least five hours? These relationships do not automatically create a barrier of trust, often making it even harder to trust. There are always going to be worries about who that person is and what their intentions are. There is no safety net to keep you from being hurt or feeling pain. Once there is a roadblock within your barrier of communication, you cannot simply get it back after running into each other at Walmart or flashing them a fake smile as you pass them in the hallway at school. As soon as one person blocks the other or the number of unread emails increases substantially over months, that person is gone forever.

[newsiees]

the bright sunlight

summary: The words Spot thought he’d never see. 

read on: archive of our own

The Outsiders and the outsider, sitting at the round cafeteria table. Noise surrounds and Spot cannot focus. Maybe he’s nervous, but he’s certain that can’t be it.

The grey table has eight round seats, seven empty. It is tucked into the unknown of the vast hall and Spot is tucked with it. This is the first foster home that has caused him to switch out of Brooklyn and into the Manhattan school district. He decides it will be the last.

He is starting to comprehend the words of his book, gripping the well-worn cover as his brain recites the words he’s already memorized. He begins to turn the page, looking up to grab his water and finding himself staring into a smile. God, that thing is bright.

He does not speak to the kid - he is short and full with bright skin and curly hair. Spot knows quickly that he could take him in a fight.

“Hi, I’m Racetrack. You can call me Race.”

Spot stares at him, eyebrows lowering. He doesn’t plan on calling him anything.

“Can I sit with you?”

Spot is too taken-aback to refuse. Why would someone so friendly want to sit at a table where he cannot make a friend?

And then Race starts to talk.

He has already gone through most of his sixth grade schedule within the first minute and said at least two words in a different language, apologizing the first time but failing to notice the second. Spot does not realize that he is listening until Race describes his friend, Jack.

“Jack?” His voice is small. He had not spoken before.

“Jack Kelly. You probably know him. He does everything! He leads every sport team, paints almost everything you see on the walls, and knows everyone…” Race is still talking as Spot processes the name. He’s almost sure that Jack Kelly was the name of the one of the other boys in his foster home.

Race continues to talk through the entire lunch and Spot lets him. Spot does not want to talk and the room is noisy anyways.

The bell rings and Race leaves with a bounce, saying goodbye and thanking the other boy for hanging out with him. Spot blinks. He had not done anything for Race.

***

For some reason that failed to present itself to Spot, Race came back. Every day. He brought his voice and Spot put his book down. He had listened at his foster home and discovered that Jack Kelly really was in the next room over. Spot almost laughed at the coincidence.

It took a few days, but Race finally remembered to breathe and decided to ask Spot a question. Spot heard it, head down, and took it in, but did not realize it was a question directed at him.

After finally hearing Race repeat himself a few times, Spot shook his head at his book before turning to raise an eyebrow.

“I said, what’s your name? I can’t believe we’ve been friends for almost a week and I never learned your name!” Race was laughing and Spot almost leaned too far over and fell. After a second to compose himself, Spot dared eye contact.

“Spot.”

“Spot?

“Yeah, what’s it to you?”

Race laughed, bigger than usual. He felt accomplished.

“Nothing, I like it!”

Spot ducked his head, facing the comfort of his book, and prepared to listen.

“So, Spot, whatcha reading?”

Spot didn’t turn this time, heart beating too fast. He wasn’t supposed to socialize here. Had Race called him his friend?

“To Kill a Mockingbird.”

“That sounds good. You like to read?” Race had to lean in to hear Spot. Spot certainly was not going to move closer.

“I guess.”

“Why?” Race was relishing in his triumph and decided he would harvest as much information as he could about his friend.

Spot had never thought about it. He didn’t enjoy thinking about the comfort and escape that he craved from books either. He didn’t need that stuff. It was just fun.

“Books are painless.” What the heck did that mean? Spot decided he was done talking.

“I like that.” Race took a breath, ready to start again, but Spot’s flickering eyes warned him not to.

“Well, thank you for talking to me. Same place tomorrow?”

Spot did not reply but Race took that as a yes.

Days past with laughter. Spot always listened Race.

***

Months after Race became Spot’s friend at the start of the school year, on a Tuesday night in February, Jack mentioned Race at the dinner table.

Jack Kelly was outgoing and fearless. He was not afraid of Spot’s prickly glares. From Spot’s first day at Medda’s, where Jack had already been for three years, Jack was fond of finding words that made Spot scowl. Spot respected it. He and Jack had an agreement by this Tuesday night. They fiercely made the other one uncomfortable, but would not let anyone else do the same.

“So, Spot, I’m hearing that sometimes you voluntarily talk at school. Should I prepare for the apocalypse?”

Spot rolled his eyes.

“It’s not good to spread rumors, Jack Kelly. But I guess it must be the only reason people voluntarily talk to you, huh.”

Medda blinked over her mashed potatoes, unsurprised but unapproving.

“Boys, be nice.”

Jack’s eyes sparkled with ammunition. Spot glared.

“You know Race is my best friend too. I could find out everything about you.”

“I don’t tell him anything. I don’t even talk to him.”

“Getting defensive?”

“He’s not my best friend. He’s not even my friend.”

“Don’t tell him that. Don’t wanna break the kid’s heart, do you? He’s always so excited after lunch.”

“Why doesn’t he just sit with you?” Spot’s words were challenging. Truthfully, he asked himself this question every day.

“You gonna tell him to?”

“Maybe.” He wasn’t.

“No, you won’t.”

“I don’t want to subject anyone to spending any extra time with you. That would just be cruel.”

“It’s okay to have friends, Spot. Friends remind you that there’s love in the world.”

Spot, Jack, and Medda turned towards the other boy at the table, struck by the contrasting kindness at dinner. Crutchie smiled at them, knowing he had successfully disrupted the argument. Spot tried not to scowl. Crutchie always ended arguments without a fair winner and it was incredibly aggravating; this time, Crutchie’s smirk was both annoying and relieving. At least the conversation was over.

“You’re right, Crutch,” Jack said, smiling fondly. They had been at Medda’s together for years. Crutchie, a grade below them, had become Jack’s brother. Spot did not think about becoming brothers with these boys.

With that, Medda called the boys to clean up the table and settle down for the night. Spot was almost to his room when he heard his name. Jack was calling him from his own door.

“Hey, you know you’re welcome to sit with us at lunch. Don’t be scared of me. We’re brothers now.”

Spot glared at Jack. Jack returned to his room, knowing he was not going to get a reply. Spot did not think about becoming brothers with these boys.

***

Spot and Race did not move to Jack’s lunch table until the next year when the two seventh graders found a few nervous sixth graders sitting at their hidden table. They laughed as if it hadn’t been them the year before.

Jack’s friends were fun, Spot decided. Race had been loud, but the group was louder. Spot decided this was the main drawback. He did not have the same quiet time that he had gotten with Race. As if it was the noise.

His new friends liked Spot. He was grumpy and snarky, but they found this amusing. A thoughtful boy, called Davey, was delighted when he saw Spot walk towards the table with a book every day. He talked to Spot more often than Spot would have liked, but the conversations were always enjoyable.

Race stuck by Spot. Once, when the group was yelling at unbelievable volumes, Race had turned to Spot and said, “What, you scared of a little noise?” Spot wasn’t sure why he remembered this moment. Maybe it was the way Race said it, as if he truly wanted an answer. Maybe it was because he had noticed that Spot was uncomfortable.

That had been eighth grade.

Eighth grade had been the year Spot decided maybe it would be okay to use the word ‘friend.’ In a formal, invulnerable way. It was just a title, like a job that sensibly labels what someone does. Spot never got attached. This was the longest he had stayed at a foster home. People only like charity when it’s easy.

Race talked to adults as if he was one. Medda loved him. He came over every day after school and Medda was always excited to see him. Spot didn’t know why. Medda never hung out with the boys. Why would she want him to come over?

Jack and Crutchie were always there too. And sometimes Davey. They were all in the same friend group, so Spot thought that this was also practical.

“What next?” Jack asked from an old armchair in the basement, legs thrown over one armrest as if he had been there for hours. They had been.

“Cards?” Race suggested. He always suggested cards.

“I’m sick of playing rummy with you,” Jack sighed.

“You’re sick of losing rummy to me,” Race teased, sending a confident grin to Spot from the other side of the couch. In terms of making fun of Jack, they were a good team.

Race looked back towards Jack and his chair. Jack always claimed the same armchair, the only armchair. Crutchie stretched out on one of the couches, legs extended. He always looked so relaxed on that couch. His right leg had never developed properly so it curved before his knee and twisted at his ankle. It seemed like Crutchie had traded a proper leg for optimism.

Race, Davey, and Spot sat on the other couch, which was comfortable enough. Crutchie always offered a spot on his couch, which Davey had taken once, sitting at Crutchie’s feet. That had only happened once because Spot and Race could not be trusted on the couch together. They were both too eager to pick a fight. Therefore, Davey was the designated mediator.

“How about poker?” Race finally asked. Spot and Jack knew how to play already so they taught Davey and Crutchie that night. Neither of them asked how the others had learned poker.

They played a lot of poker, mostly for toothpicks or candy. Sometimes for Davey to do their homework. Race won most of the time, but Spot would occasionally beat him. Spot never kept what he won.

***

The start of high school was uncomfortable. The small boys were thrown into a big world. Spot was only in art class with Race, Crutchie was still a year below in middle school, and he almost never saw Jack anymore. He had joined the football team along with every other team. Try hard.

But they still had lunch.

“Hi, Jack!” Davey was always glad to see Jack.

“Hey, Dave. Good day so far?”

“Yeah.” Davey smiled. Spot knew he was glad to see his best friend. Jack spent a lot of his time practicing for something or other.

“Wanna go for a walk, Spot?” Race asked, raising his eyebrow at Spot as he frequently did.

“Huh? Right now?” Today he was reading A Tale of Two Cities.

“Yes, Spot. Let’s go.” He grabbed the book and Spot’s elbow, yanking him off his stool. They were soon walking around the empty fields.

“Why are we here?”

“I wanted to give Davey and Jack some alone time.”

“Alone time?”

“Yeah,” Race said quietly. The unfamiliar volume of Race’s voice made Spot’s heartbeat quicken. Spot was wondering how to make Race less nervous without caring, watching Race run his fingers over Spot’s book.

“You ever hear Davey talk about girls?”

“No.” All Davey talked about was school. And his friends. Spot was wondering what this had to do with Race’s small voice.

“Yeah. Me either.” Race kicked at the dirt, creating clouds of dust. “I hope he knows he can trust us.”

“He does.”

Race stopped walking and looked at Spot. Race was not smiling like he usually was. The skin underneath his eyes was darkened and his lips were chapped. Spot smiled at him.

“Are you smiling?” Race was laughing now. Spot decided he had been successful.

“Maybe.”

“What a day.” Race was grinning now. He handed Spot’s book back to Spot and rubbed his shoulder in gratitude, slowing his movements.

“Let’s go back inside.” Spot followed him.

***

Davey didn’t come over as often without Jack there. Crutchie had joined the middle school’s drama club in order to make friends at his own school, which of course worked. Crutchie was contagious. But it also made Davey less keen on coming over. Spot and Race were either fighting or laughing over an inside joke. It wasn’t ideal for Davey. Plus, Jack always had some game for Davey to attend.

By the end of freshman year, Spot and Race had watched every movie they had ever wanted to watch, plus too many they despised. They were a tough pair to impress.

It was the summer before sophomore year when Medda walked down into the basement to find Spot and Race arguing over The Lion King. They were on their couch, facing each other as they teased one another. Race was on his knees with his finger in Spot’s face. Spot was cross legged with his hands gripping his knees, leaning forward to maximize his threat. Medda took a picture before announcing her presence.

“Boys?”

They snapped out of their world, faces eased and knees touching. Race grinned at Medda with all of his teeth. Maybe it was that smile which caused Medda to adore Race’s presence, Spot thought.

“Sorry to interrupt, I just need to talk to Sean for a few minutes.”

Spot smiled at Race, as he had begun to do more often, before standing and silently following Medda upstairs.

“Hey, honey. I wanted to ask you how you would feel if I adopted you.”

Spot blinked. A home?

“Yeah. That’d be okay.”

***

Sophomore year meant Crutchie joined their lunch table again. He brought a friend: some baby-faced kid named Mush. He was sweet and it gave Crutchie someone to talk to. Davey and Jack were arguing more often. Spot and Race were arguing less often to give them room to do so.

“Pot, Jack? You know that’s a drug, right?”

“Jesus, Davey. How old are you?”

“I just hope you know how marijuana can disrupt the functioning of your brain cells...”

At the other side of the table, Spot and Race tuned them out.

“I just hope Jack doesn’t leave this lunch table. Davey would go mad,” Race whispered to Spot, leaning against his elbow to turn his body towards his friend.

“You’re worried about him,” Spot whispered in response.

“Jack is really important to Davey.” Race was watching the two of them argue. His eyes were full of pity, but the way Race was avoiding Spot’s eye made Spot think of fear.

***

The two of them were sitting in Spot’s basement the next week. Race liked to come over and Spot always opened the door.

They went to Race’s house occasionally, but they preferred Spot’s basement.

Mrs. Higgins was a plump lady who was always wearing an apron. She smelled like basil and always gave Spot a hug. Mr. Higgins was a large man and an in-charge man. He seemed friendly enough, always smiling at Spot and Race when they came home, but the fur of his mustache created the countenance of a fan egging on a wrestling match. Appropriately, Mr. Higgins was a strong proponent of the philosophy “boys will be boys.”

Alas, Spot and Race only had Race’s small bedroom to hang out in at the Higgins apartment and it had no television. The television in the living room was always taken by Race’s little sisters. They loved Spot and it freaked him out. The Higgins family was full of huggers.

Race was sitting on the floor, sifting through the DVDs on the bookshelf. He was talking about something and Spot was absentmindedly replying, monotonous as he lounged on the couch with his arms stretched out along the back cushion, watching Race.

Race had decided on a movie and popped it into the old player before jumping on the couch beneath Spot’s forearm. The cloth of Race’s t-shirt was soft, Spot noticed. Race shivered.

“I think we should have our own Christmas this year.”

“What?” Spot turned to face Race. Race had a freckle right below his hairline.

“Us boys. You know, like after our family stuff. The twenty-sixth or something.

“Okay.” Spot had never expected to have two Christmases, let alone one.

“No gifts or anything. I’ll cook and Crutchie will probably help. He likes to mash potatoes, doesn’t he? We’ll have to use Medda’s kitchen - my house is a no-go - but she’s so awesome that she’ll let us have our day. Jack and Davey will get along if it’s just our friends. They really do like to get along. Plus, then we’ll be able to argue some. I miss arguing with you.”

“Anytime you want, Higgins. I will fight you and win.” The hair on Race’s eyebrows was almost auburn.

“It’s not like you never have the opportunity.” When was the last weekend Race slept at his own house? “Anyways, you tell your brothers and I’ll find a way to break it to Davey. It’s too late this year, but maybe next year I can get my grandma to make extra raviolis. Mine barely compare, you have to try hers.”

“Got it.” Spot was too busy thinking about how Race needed some chapstick to realize he was making traditions.

***

Christmas was joyful. Medda bought Spot an e-reader that he hadn’t stopped staring at. Jack made fun of him Christmas morning. Race took it from him the next day and replaced it with a package.

“I know I said no gifts, but I saw this and couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”

Spot tore off the funny pages and found himself staring at a fresh copy of The Outsiders.

“I noticed yours was all banged up. Funny how you read it at least once a year.” Spot found it funny that no one else got anything wrapped in funny pages.

***

The year almost seemed to drag. It was hotter than usually and the aggressions of high school years only added to the heat. Davey and Jack were grimly dedicated to each other, always softening their quarrels before anything dishonest was said. Spot learned from them that disagreements do not demean friendship.

Summer did come. Spot’s purple fingers were thankful. His basement was just cool enough and he found himself there with Race every day. Some things never change.

“I’m bored. We always just sit here and watch movies,” Race whined one Thursday at the end of June, dramatically laid across the couch, head propped up by Spot’s thigh.  

Spot looked down at Race. He couldn’t decide if Race was tanned or sunburned.

“You want to go home?”

Race seemed startled by the suggestion. He met Spot’s eyes. They were hard and emotionless. Spot had many years of practice at keeping them neutral.

“No, never.” Race sighed grandly, attempting to cut the atmosphere. “I just want to do something different with you, that’s all.”

Spot was staring at the wall now. There was a crack in the plaster, traveling down to the trim in an immaculate line of white. He could see the cement crumbling.

“Like what?”

“I dunno.” Race was sitting up now, slumping against the back cushion now.

“What’s got you so moody?” Spot watched the plaster fall. If he turned his head, he could smell the pasta sauce that always lingered in Race’s breath.

“Nothing, I’m good. What do you want to do?”

“What do you want to do, Race?” Spot let his head fall back, letting it roll to face his friend. Race had a curl loose around his right ear.

And then Race kissed Spot. And then Spot kissed Race. What else is there?

“Sean! Anthony! Do you want me to order a pizza?”

Spot leapt onto his feet, leaving Race giggling under his breath. Spot had the sense to turn on the previously blank tv. Medda reached the bottom stair as Spot was resettling on the couch, skin a calculated distance away from Race’s.

“Jack won’t be home until later and I think Charlie is sleeping over Michael’s house but I’m happy to order some pizza for the three of us.” Medda was unphased. They were watching the Food Network.

“Thank you for always taking care of me, Medda. I would love some pizza.” How was Race unphased? Spot dared a glance. Race was smiling up at Medda.

“You’re a gift to this family, Anthony. Extra cheese?” They nodded as she pulled out her cell phone, walking back upstairs. “I’ll call you two up when it comes.”

Twelve steps on steps and a door pulled closed. One second, two seconds, three seconds…

Race started to laugh. It was almost nervous, the way it consumed him. Spot only had to look over, to glimpse the sparkle in Race’s eye, before he erupted into laughter alongside his friend.

They bent at the waist, foreheads closer, as they held their stomachs and the other’s shoulder and laughed and laughed and laughed…

***

This began to happen a lot. Spot found he liked the taste of pasta sauce and Race’s laughter, which shouldn’t have surprised him. Not when Race’s laughter had become the white noise in his head as he tried to fall asleep at night.

No one should know, they decided. No one would understand, they reasoned. Spot didn’t even understand. He didn’t want to. Not when he was stretched upon Race, hip bones sharp against Race’s stomach, long legs taking his toes beyond Race’s soles. Race’s t shirt was pulled down, the threads of the collar snapping with the inattention. Race was giggling. Spot was smiling against Race’s chest, purposefully low on Race’s torso. Spot was careful.

***

Junior year made Davey wild. He was constantly shaking, blood full of caffeine and anxiety. Jack spent less time with the football team. Davey needed him.

That was why Spot and Race found themselves joined by Davey and Jack in their basement. Race didn’t seem bothered. He could laugh anywhere, always grinning as bright as the sun even in the rain of Jack and Davey’s bickering. It was humorous to them now too. Jack and Davey were always on the verge of praise.

Spot, consistent with his pointed, pithy attitude, sat silently on his and Race’s couch, leaning a breath towards Race’s shoulder. Race always moved closer when he laughed, anyways.

“Is this all you guys have been doing without us? Watching stupid movies?” Jack was teasing. Davey was finally relaxing.

Race looks at Spot and Spot looks back. They laugh together and Race’s hand twitches.

“This is literally all we ever do.”

***

Time went on, as it usually does. Davey and Jack were fun (they had all grown fond of playing old board games now) and Spot and Race still had their own time together. God bless Jack’s busy schedule. Junior year was busy in itself and sometimes all Spot and Race did together was homework. Spot always seemed to have more.

“Less than three months and we’re seniors,” Race realized in mid-April. He was laying on Spot’s bed, surrounded by math worksheet after math worksheet, with an occasional textbook.  

“Wild.” Spot was perched at the top of his bed, tucked into himself atop his pillows with one hand on his book and the other tapping his pencil against Race’s ankle.

“We’re the same age as all those teenagers in every movie we’ve ever watched. We have all that high school stuff going on.”

“All that high school stuff.”

“Yeah, like sweet sixteens and drama and prom and everything.”

“Racetrack, we haven’t experienced any of that.”

“Yeah, well maybe we should.”

“You wanna get into a fight? Start some drama?” Spot’s book was closed. He was on page 258.

“Well, we could do that.” Race was sitting up now, cross legged and facing Spot.

“What, you don’t want to fight with me? Know you’d lose?” Spot leaned forward, chin up but eyes on Race.

“Don’t wanna lose anything.” Spot leaned back. Race continued. “How about prom?”

“You should go if you want to.”

“How about you?” Race knew Spot. He made vicious eye contact with Spot, knowing he would lock into vulnerability.

“I dunno. That’s a lot of money.” Spot couldn’t look away.

“Medda was excited to hear that Jack is going.”

“Yeah, but he’s going with Sarah. I don’t have a girlfriend or anything.” Or anything.

“Go alone. It’ll be fun,” Race broke the thin ice. “I’ll be there.”

Spot decided he would consider it.

***

Prom night was foggy and damp. Walking through the air required pushing through heavy mist. You could only see what was right in front of you. Spot wasn’t even sure he could see that.

Sarah and Jack looked good. They matched and exemplified high school. Davey had gotten his friend from newspaper club, Katherine, to join him for the night. She was Sarah’s best friend so the two pairs coexisted wonderfully.

Mush was able to attend prom too, standing in Medda’s dining room with a blushing hand in his boyfriend’s. Kid Blink, as the baseball team called him, was a junior and a good friend of Jack’s. Crutchie was delighted by his best friend’s success. Spot was delighted that no one seemed to mind the entwined hands of two boys.

Race looked good. Spot decided he could think this because Race seemed like he had tried to look good. As Race’s best friend, Spot felt like he was in the proper position to confirm his friend’s intentions.

“You look good, Higgins.” Spot nodded up at his friend from where he was sprawled on a dining room chair. His long legs always seemed to tangle him.

Race seemed a little startled that Spot had said these words out loud to him. Usually they were only told through laughing kisses on ears or soft fingers trailing upon hidden skin. Race was always good at poker though. Neutrality was clear to those who did not know him like Spot did.

“You bet I do, Conlon.” Spot got up, watching Medda take a picture of Davey tying Jack’s tie. Crutchie was trying to help Blink pin the flower onto Mush. Sarah and Katherine had gone to the bathroom, Spot remembered vaguely.

Race was close to Spot now. He knew from experience that if he tilted his head slightly to the left he would be in the prime position to kiss Race. He didn’t. Not even when Race complimented his bowtie.

They stood on opposite ends of the group during pictures. Spot wasn’t sure who initiated that. It just happened. Purposefully.

Spot didn’t eat anything at prom. It was in a local country club with fake plants and everything in the room made him too crazy to eat.

The eight of them sat at a round table; Katherine and Sarah had let Davey and Jack sit next to each other. Blink and Mush had been long lost to the dance floor. Race was next to Spot. Spot was thankful.

Easy conversation breezed through the suffocating club. Race was relaxed and lounged on the crafted wooden chair. Spot was leaned on his elbow, listening to Race talk about how a random couple had gotten together. Spot thought for a moment that he could be doing this anywhere else much more comfortably. The birthmarks creeping down Race’s neck, journeying beneath the collar of his tuxedo, helped Spot accept his situation.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” Race said suddenly. He was laughing. At what, Spot didn’t know. He didn’t respond as he watched Race wink at him before pushing in his chair and leaving the hall.

Spot watched his friends talk across the table. They were laughing at something when Jack noticed Spot watching them.

“What do you think, Spot?”

“I think I’m going to the bathroom.” Spot was getting up now, locating the door which he had watched Race walk through. If Race could find the bathroom, so could Spot.

Upon walking out of the grand hall, Spot did not find the bathroom. He found a long hallway instead, carpeted by the seventies. The pale blue foam beneath his feet led Spot a little ways down the strip before a hand interrupted his search, pulling him through a door Spot had not noticed. He soon found himself pressed against the very same door. Pressed against himself, Spot realized, was Race.

“Hey, you.” Race was breathing heavy.

“Find the bathroom?” Spot commented, looking around what seemed to be a cleaning closet. He was too distracted to wonder why the country club had such a large cleaning closet.

“Nah, but I did find you.”

Spot let Race kiss him for a while, relaxing for a sweet second. After relishing in the warmth of Race’s actions and the shiver of Race’s hands, Spot angled his body to push Race against the door. Spot did not stop to appreciate Race’s beautifully crisp white shirt, hastily unbuttoning it so that he could press his teeth into Race’s skin. Spot noticed every birthmark. Race’s skin was more important to Spot than any shirt. Race laughed and Spot continued, down and down. Everything in the room was making Spot crazy.

***

Race left the room first, an uncountable number of minutes later. Spot recited the first lines of The Outsiders to calm himself as he waited to leave. Distracted, he took a wrong turn and ended up outside the actual bathroom. He went inside. Might as well.

“Spot!” Jack was washing his hands when Spot walked in. He didn’t respond.

“I thought you went to the bathroom ages ago.” Jack’s cheeks were red and he was glowing. He looked to Spot like someone who had just been kissed.

“Needed some fresh air. You having fun?” Spot was leaning against the door frame.

“Yeah, lots. You?”

“Mmhmm.” You could say that.

***

The summer before senior year left Spot and Race breathless. Preparing for college left them with much to do. They were forced to run through the summer. Any time left to catch their breath was spent taking the other’s away.

The schedule of September was welcomed thankfully. Weekdays were usually spent at Spot’s, usually taking them to Spot’s room. To do homework, of course. Race had a hard time resisting the television and the noise of the after school programs irritated Spot. Spot was less irritated when Race had a hard time resisting Spot.

Their homework always got done, however. Spot worked as if it was his means of survival. Race thought Spot believed it was.

That is why Race woke up one Friday night in April - or perhaps Saturday morning - to find the light on. Spot was sitting at his desk, writing furiously.

“Babe, come back to bed.” Race’s voice was comfortable.

“Don’t call me that.” Spot didn’t stop moving his pencil.

“Spot, come back to bed.” Race was rolling his eyes, knowing Spot’s ears were turning red.

Spot stopped his pencil and turned back to look at Race, arm over the back of his chair. His fingers were agitated and bending. He was thinking elsewhere, but he smiled at Race.

“I just thought of something and I had to add it to this.”

“What are you writing?”

“Just a speech.” Spot was mumbling, turning back to his desk.

“Why do you have to write a speech? You gonna talk?” Race’s tone was teasing and inquisitive. He knew that is he never asked, he’d never know.

“They said I have to. For graduation.” Spot hadn’t started writing again.

“For graduation? But only the valedictorian speaks at graduation.”

“Yeah.”

Race almost screamed (only remaining silent for the sake of poor Medda), throwing the sheets back and galloping over to Spot.

“You’re valedictorian?” Race whispered, hands holding Spot’s face softly. His thumb trailed a brush of freckles. That Irish skin.

“I guess.” Spot’s ears were very warm.

“You work so hard,” Race bent to ease Spot’s lips to his own, eventually kneeling as Spot responded.

Spot broke the kiss, smiling subtly at the proud grin that dazzled Race’s face.

“So are you saying that you thought of something for your valedictorian speech while you were lying in bed with me?”

Spot made a face.

“Well, yeah.”

“How romantic,” Race teased, smirking as he took his hands off of Spot’s face.

Spot faced his desk again, moving his legs under the table.

“Not really. We’re not dating or anything.”

Race stood, looking around the room. They were both wearing a pair of Spot’s boxer shorts. Race had just caressed Spot’s face and received a smile in return. They had done this so many times before.

“Why do you have to lie to yourself?” Race spoke quietly as he returned to the bed, curling with his back to Spot.

“We’re not dating.” Spot said, reminding himself.

“Yeah, but we sure are doing something.”

“Yeah.” Something Spot was thankful for.

***

Graduation day came, as all days do. Spot lead the march of robed graduates through the gymnasium, echo of rain against the roof. Race cried when he spoke. Perhaps others did too. Peers he did not know approached Spot afterwards to compliment him on his work or his words. Not one of them had wanted to hear his words before. Perhaps someday people will learn to listen to others.

Groups of solid colored seniors huddled in the school afterwards, snapping emotional pictures and reminiscing about the years they had spent together. Spot walked through the flowing sea of family. He saw the Jacobs family taking a clumsy family photo, David shaking and Sarah glowing. Sarah caught Spot’s eye and winked. Spot smiled back. A lot had changed.

His journey led him to find Medda taking a picture of Jack holding Crutchie. Crutchie - still littler than the rest of them - was laughing and laughing. Spot laughed at his brothers. He didn’t even notice his mind had called them his brothers.

Further down the hall, Blink waved at him. He had an arm around Mush’s shoulders, talking to a group of boys who were presumably on the baseball team with him. They were all smiling. Spot considered the reactions.

Still, Spot continued. He had seen some younger Italian girls closer to the gym. The youngest, who was fascinated with Spot, had asked him to tie her shoe, which he did. She had jabbered about something, as Higgins children do, and Spot had smiled at her. That’s all she needed. After silently agreeing to half-hug the middle daughter, who was fascinated with Spot in quite a different way, had been able to begin his search.

Still, Race was nowhere to be found.

“There you are!” Race found him first, as usual.

Spot felt his arm being jerked to the side. He landed in a small nook of the hallway, between lockers and a strip of wall next to a wide door frame. The hallway was empty, save the two of them, and it gave an air of unease as well as power. They owned the school.

“Hey,” Spot whispered to Race’s nose. Race swore and grabbed Spot’s hand, tearing him down the hallway and into a distant classroom.

“You just...” Race breathed, closing the wood door and taking off his lopsided cap. “Look so…” The zipper on his robe was stuck so he just pulled it over his head. “So hot right now.”

Spot laughed, skin reddening as he followed Race’s movements. Soon the classroom was theirs.

***

The boys, after composing themselves, found themselves on the forever end of Medda’s camera. Still in their graduation attire, Race settled beneath Spot’s arm as it draped comfortably across his shoulders. Medda didn’t need to say smile.

***

Race had to work that summer. Some family obligation to his dad’s restaurant or whatever. Spot was grumbling too much to listen too hard. He had a job too - in a local newspaper office organizing files - but his inner priorities were not devoted to his occupation. Race held that position.

Spot spent his free time in his room, writing or moping, depending on the prefered term. He was staring out the window when he heard footsteps.

“Hey, Spot. Whatcha up to?”

Spot continued to watch the leaves rustle in the summer wind as he replied to Jack.

“Nothing.”

“Literally! You look so bored.”

Spot turned to scowl at Jack, who was leaning in the door frame with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. He was wearing a Columbia t-shirt.

“Nice shirt.”

Jack had the confidence to look proud. Davey was going to Columbia in the fall.

“Anniversary present?”

“Jesus, Spot.” Jack was laughing, as he rolled his eyes. “We’re not together.”

Spot’s snorted and shook his head. Jack was settling on Spot’s unmade bed, ignoring Spot.

“So when did you and Race start sleeping together?”

Spot did not let himself twitch as he put on his best disgusted face and turned his chair.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“So you can joke about my nonexistent relationship with Davey but I can’t comment on your very obvious relationship with Race?” Jack was smug in his smile.

“We’re friends, Jack.”

“Like me and Davey?”

“No, you and Davey are married. Race and I have a normal friendship.”

Jack’s shoulders lowered. He had been hoping to tangle Spot in his own words.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Jack was quieter than usual, more serious than usual.

Spot hesitated, before slowly saying, “I’m talking to you right now.” His eyes remained emotionless and steady, holding contact with the vulnerable eyes of Jack.

“You know I know about you guys, right? It wasn’t a guess.” Jack was not afraid of Spot. He was only afraid of making Spot uncomfortable.

“You’re full of it.” Spot’s eyes were narrowed and his grip on his chair tightened, in frustration and to keep them steady.

“You know I’m bi, right?” Jack cared about his brother. He wouldn’t be sitting on Spot’s dirty sheets trying to coax some emotion out of him if he didn’t care.

Spot thought for a second, considering his last six years with Jack.

“Yeah, that makes sense.” He paused. That was comforting. “So you are married to Davey?” Spot knew how to maneuver a conversation.

“What? No! Just because I like guys too doesn’t mean I have to like Davey.”

“So you don’t?”

“Fhgkshjg-”

“Exactly.”

“Quit it. We’re friends.”

“Yeah.” Spot turned in his chair, grabbing his pencil and sending Jack the message that he was done.

“I like you guys together. You balance each other. Remember back in the day when all you guys would do was fight?”

Spot didn’t answer, but Jack was smart. He knew people.

“I’m glad you’ve channeled your affection into something healthier.”

Spot whipped around, thinking of all the ways he could destroy Jack.

“Affection? I have no idea what that is.”

“Yeah, right.” was all Jack got out before Spot pounced, jumping from his chair to the bed so that he could tackle Jack. Jack just laughed as Spot began growling.

“What is going on in here?”

Spot was digging his elbow into Jack’s back, earning nothing but a ticklish giggle from Jack. They both looked up to see Crutchie, grinning.

“Spot’s pretending he’s not with Race.”

“I’m not with Race!” Spot continued to jab his brother’s back.

Crutchie was smiling, serene and knowing all at once.

“I hope you both figure out what’s important to you.” Then he balanced on his crutch and walked away.

Spot glared at Jack, but got off of him. Jack didn’t say a word as he got up and walked towards the door. Spot was glaring out the window again when he heard Jack pause in the door frame.

“You can lie to me all you want, but please stop lying to yourself, Sean.”

Spot sighed and watched the wind go by.

***

College was new. They were all still in the city and time would not wait for them. Spot felt like he always had something to do. His classes made him feel important, but they required a lot from him. He found himself thinking of Davey. He had always made homework feel like it was worthwhile.

Spot made friends, sort of. There were people he spent time with. They talked to him about his papers or his band t-shirts. His roommate, Itey, whose real name Spot could not remember, was always willing to engage in conversation about iconic guitarists. Spot enjoyed his time at school. He even bought Medda a sweatshirt.

Race was right down the street, having a ball. He came over to Spot’s dorm most weekends if he could, always laughing with some wild story to tell of his shenanigans. Spot liked to listen to Race.

“And..and then, you’ll never believe this, he started ranting in Italian and only us native speakers could understand what he was saying and the things he said about the whole thing was nuts. Absolutely nuts.” Race was sitting on Spot’s bed, cross legged and rocking with his laughter. Spot was next to him, leaning against the wall and smirking at Race.

“You’re absolutely nuts.”

Race winked and sighed contentedly.

“What a gentleman.”

Itey was gone for the weekend; he lived in New Jersey so he went home when he could. Spot could walk down the street to drop home, but some had to drive to see their family. Spot wondered when he had found a family worth seeing.

After some comfortable silence, Race suggested a movie. They set up an old John Wayne film on Spot’s computer and lay down, the computer balancing on Spot’s hip bones. Race curled into Spot’s side. To get a better view, of course.

Race fell asleep with fifteen minutes left. The end credits rolled and Spot sighed, on the verge of sleep himself. He closed his laptop with a yawn, leaning to slide it on the nightstand.

“How’d it end?” A sleepy voice sang to Spot’s ear.

“Horribly.”

“Good.”

Spot only laughed as he let himself relax. He was inches from sleep, centimeters. It was so close he felt it brush his skin as he floated into its grasp. He was barely in the living world when -

“I love you.”

Spot pretended he was asleep.

***

It was raining the next morning. Race slept in, given the luxury of a Saturday morning. Spot was up before the sun, given the cumbersome gift of a constant mind.

No love, no love, no love, no love, no love, no love, no love, no love, no love.

Spot was sitting on his desk, wrapped around himself as he watched the rain. He had been repeating his lifelong mantra for hours. It hadn’t been long enough.

“Whatcha doing there, buddy?”

Spot jumped a bit before shrugging. He wanted to turn around but he knew stupid Race wouldn’t be wearing a stupid shirt and that made Spot feel stupid.

“You okay?” Spot heard the rustle of sheets and the soft pressure of Race’s feet on the carpet. Soon Race’s head was on Spot’s shoulder. He smelt like Race. Spot shoved him off.

“Jesus, you’re not. What’s up?” Race seemed as though his skin was offended but his heart was concerned.

“Nothing, Race. I’m fine.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Am not.” Spot defensively glared at Race. Race’s hair was tangled within itself. Spot wanted to laugh and run his hands through it. He shook his head at himself.

“You’re right. You are a good liar. But not to me, Spotty.”

“Stop.”

“What’s got you so prickly?”

“I’m always prickly.”

Race laughed and rubbed his hand down Spot’s arm. Spot’s body betrayed him and shivered.

“Yeah, you are. That’s what I-”

“I swear if you continue that sentence, Anthony.”

Race paused. He looked in Spot’s eyes, searching and hopeful. His lips were pursed in nerves.

“Oh, I see. You’re gonna be a whiny coward about this.”

“We’re not dating! You don’t get to...feel...like that. About me.” Spot’s shoulders were contracting around his body. Stay small enough to hide, he remembered.

“So you define yourself by labels, do you?” Race was too good.

“What, I never said...you can’t do that! It’s not that simple!”

“You love me, but you can’t say so because you don’t think you’re allowed to? Sounds kind of simple.” Race was backing up so he had room to pace. He was ready for battle.

“I’m not allowed to!” Spot didn’t realize the implications of his words, but Race did. His understanding warmed his heart and heated his ammunition.

“Says who?” Race stopped pacing to stare at Spot, half a testing smirk on his lips. Spot wished that Race were ugly.

“Says...I don’t know! Stop it!” Spot was shaking and shaking and his fingers were numbing.

Race sighed when he saw Spot digging his nails into the palms of his hands. He walked over to Spot and held out his hands face-up, letting Spot take them himself. He did. Race ran his thumbs over the indents, resuming eye contact.

“I love you.”

“We’re still not dating.”

“Why not?”

Spot didn’t want to think about it. Why weren’t they dating?

“Books are painless.”

Race didn’t seem quite surprised by Spot’s response. He smiled knowingly. He had the right. Who knew Spot better than Race?

“You have to know pain to appreciate them. Love is the same way.”

Spot decided he liked that. Then he decided to kiss Race.

[erincardenthailandblog]

Making the days count

I have nineteen days left in Thailand. I made it to August. I’ve thought over and over again about what I would feel like when I finally made it to last month. It feels surreal to know that the month I felt would never come is finally here.

The bright cloudless days are gone. Mist hangs around the mountains in the distance, catching in the banana tree leaves that are the size of small umbrellas. The fields are thick and green with rice. Sprouted plants surround my home. It has been raining for three days straight. It’s raining when I wake up and it’s raining when I go to sleep. The rice fields are over flowing. They look like rivers. Everyone is saying that this is the wettest rainy season Thailand has had in years. A foreign teacher who has lived in Thailand for fifteen years said he’s never seen it rain this much. As sick as I am of the rain, there is something special about living in Thailand long enough to experience all the seasons. Getting caught in the monsoon storms has brought me a curious sense of belonging. I like knowing that I truly understand what it means to live in Thailand at this time of the year. This morning, when the school anthem started blasting through the speakers, students darted back and forth, chatting to one another as they clutched their umbrellas and tried to shield themselves from the rain. “Welcome to rainy season” I said to myself.

I recently learned that many of the rice fields in my village are also rice field fisheries. These fields grow not only rice but also wild fish. Most of the fish enter naturally from the surrounding water which floods into the fields. These rice field fisheries constitute a vital source of income and nutrition for many farmers. Every day people wade hip deep in the rice fields with huge nets made out of mesh and tall bamboo splits. They submerge the nets into the flooded fields and when they have caught enough fish, they lift the nets up using an extended bamboo pole. One weekend Olivia and I saw people gathered around, watching the fishermen fish with as if it were some sort of sporting event.

This past weekend WorldTeach held an End of Service event. The volunteers gathered together and told stories about what our students had done the past few weeks since we had last seen each other. This reminded me of when I have listened to parents speaking and laughing about things their child had done. I now understand this sentiment. As teachers we find pleasure in recounting something a particular student did, at how predictable they are and yet how they continue to surprise us.

I love reminders that on a dull, seemingly insignificant day there is still color in the world. There are things that still surprise me. I am still in awe. Not once have I considered my life here average but there are some things that I have forgotten felt so strange when I first arrived. Bathrooms without toilet paper or sinks have become normal. Power outages on a weekly, if not daily basis are expected. I am no longer bothered by the fact that I have to flick ants off my arms while relaxing in bed. I can now distinguish the sound between a gecko and a frog. Eyeing heaps of burning trash in my neighbor’s backyard no longer warrants a feeling of danger. Spicy Thai dishes no longer make my eyes water and mouth burn. I can tell whether a storm will shed light of heavy rain based on the cloud’s shade of grey and the strength of the wind. On a daily basis I use the handful of Thai phrases that I know- such as- “cow jai mai” which means, “understand?” with my youngest students. I no longer cower in fear during my runs when confronted by a mangy barking dog. I have learned the right precautions to take. If the dog is chasing me and barking, then I stop and walk. If the dog is chasing me but not barking, or barking but not chasing me, then I continue my run. I now walk through traffic dodging cars and motorbikes, with ease.

This past weekend WorldTeach also held a session on cultural readjustment in which we discussed the grief that comes with reverse culture shock. We talked about the loneliness of not being able to connect with anyone at home about our experience because it’s not something many people can relate to. We talked about the confusion, stress, and discomfort we may feel trying to reconcile this new version of ourselves in a place where an old version of our self exists.  Talking about the challenges we will face while readjusting to the life we left at home has made me aware of all that I appreciate about my life in Na Kae.

Throughout my time in Thailand, whenever I was homesick, restless, or impatient, it was because I was excited to return to the U.S and “start my life.” Teaching and traveling abroad was an opportunity I seized with the goal of expanding future career and personal possibilities but I always held the expiration date in mind. It took me a while to realize that this is my life. I have already started it, and I am living in Thailand.

A few weeks ago I sat on a crowded songthaew that I had waited one and a half hours for. The air was heavy with humidity and my back was slick with sweat. A little girl sitting directly in front of me on the middle bench was playing footsie with me. She kept brushing her feet against mine, and her little hands kept grazing my knee. My knee- caps hurt. They were pressed against the metal bench and the metal bars behind me were digging into my back. Another baby on the songthaew was crying. Because I am the “ferong” (foreigner) and I stick out like a sore thumb, everyone was staring and talking about me. I was hot, tired, and grumpy. Then, the songthaew started moving. The warm breeze came and dried the sweat from my face. Soon we were racing past the downy green rice fields. I looked at the children asleep in their mother’s arms and I became aware of how special it was to be sweaty and uncomfortable in one of the most beautiful places on the planet, partaking in something so much of a part of the daily routine and the daily lifestyle of a culture that was previously so unknown, but that now, is a part of me.

There is a new Pilipino teacher at my school who has never taught before. She confided in me about having a hard time adjusting to her new environment. I told her not to expect anything to come easily, and that it will take time for the students to feel comfortable with her, as it will take time for her to feel comfortable with the students. I told her that patience is key. I admitted that it was only after summer vacation that I ever entered into the classroom feeling like a “teacher.”  I admitted that before I always felt like I was running around the classroom like a headless chicken in the dark. I told her to be patient with not only her students, but more importantly, with herself. I told her that with trust in the process of time, she would begin to feel more grounded.

It is easy to recognize the small ways that I have changed while the bigger changes are only now beginning to resonate as my departure date approaches. Giving advice to this new teacher made me realize that I have in fact, grown as a teacher and as a person. Six months ago I don’t think I could have imagined myself as the one giving advice. I did not think of myself as a source of wisdom or experience for someone else. But now, here I was, verbalizing for the first time, the importance of patience and realizing, for the first time, the way that trusting the patience I gave myself, has changed me.

Reflecting on these past eleven months I have surprised myself in numerous ways. When I first moved to Thailand none of the volunteers knew each other and we and had to start from scratch in order to get to know one another. I was surprised by how soon it was that I began to feel close to a handful of volunteers.  I was surprised by the fact that I felt I could tell them anything and everything. I never felt like I needed to be anything more. I didn’t need to be funnier, louder, more interesting, or smarter. I didn’t need to be anyone other than who I already was. I was surprised to realize that this was probably not only because of the people they are, but also because of a sense of inner peace that all the hours I have spent alone has given me. I am also surprised by how much I enjoy serving as a person with whom others confide in and seek advice from. I am surprised by the fact that I now enjoy my own company. When I first moved to Na Kae, spending what felt like endless hours alone felt uncomfortable and unsettling. Although too many hours alone can still leave me feeling restless, I now find comfort in the silence of my own thoughts.

Other July/ August Highlights:

-My male seventh graders are a huge handful but I cannot deny that they are also sweet as pie. Every day they greet me with precious, genuine smiles and say “thank you teacher” at the end of every lesson. It is so special to be thanked every day by children. They are grateful to learn.  And no matter how hard they are to manage, I am grateful to be their teacher.

-A group of ninth graders asked me to watch them practice a Beauty and the Beast Saturday Night Live skit that had the word “ass” in it about five times. They were planning on performing it for a province wide English competition. I couldn’t stop laughing. I had to explain to them why the word “ass” was inappropriate for a school competition and why they had to find another script or they would probably be disqualified.

- After introducing new vocabulary I often ask my seventh graders to recite the new vocabulary words out loud to me after giving them an assignment. I have them stand in a line and one by one come up to me to read the words out loud. It makes me happy to hear the ones in line practicing before it is their turn. It shows me that they care and they want to do well.

- I love it when the higher-level students help the lower level students. When my seventh graders recite vocabulary words the advanced students will say it under their breath for the less advanced students because they don’t want to leave their friends hanging. I don’t mind that they are giving away the answer because I support the fact that they are growing and learning from each other.

- I taught my seventh graders about parts of the body and gave them an assignment to draw an alien with labeled body parts. A lot of my students drew really impressive drawings and I kept my favorites because I want to frame them when I’m home.

-One of my eight graders got an A+ on her midterm. She was the only one in the class. She was not advanced last semester but this semester she has the highest grade. She studies very hard and it made me so happy to see her succeed. She squealed when I gave her back her test. It brought me so much joy to see how happy she was.

-I asked my students to write me letters and some of their responses were: o “Do you love me?” o “I don’t like a grub. Do you like a grub? Why you beautiful?”

- An eleventh grader wrote me a note apologizing for missing class. I almost cried I was so touched.

- Because it is rainy season most Thai people wear huge plastic ponchos when riding on their motorbikes. One day Olivia and I saw a woman put on silver rain pants and a silver raincoat. She looked like she was wearing a space suit. Olivia and I have pepto bismol colored rain ponchos and we feel like teletubbies every time we were them.

-I love going for motorbike rides with Olivia. Last week we passed by… o An old white man with a mustache riding a pink motorbike.  

o Women sitting atop platforms made out of bamboo stalks, weaving baskets out of dried palm leaves.

o Men walking home from the rice fields carrying huge loads of grass on their backs. o Baby water buffalo napping in mud piles under the shade of willow trees.

o The simple, wild, untouched, and raw beauty that is the Issan region of Thailand.

Lowlights of July/ August

- The power turning on and off multiple times in a night and which wakes me up every time because I am a horribly light sleeper.

- The animal living in my roof has begun to dig a hole in my ceiling and I was woken up one morning at 4 A.M by pieces of crumbling plaster falling on my head.

- A tenth grader, who always plays games on her cellphone during class, one day lost the game and shrieked at the top of her lungs in the middle of my lesson. I walked over to her and said, “Turn your phone off, or leave the classroom. You are disrespectful.” This was the first time where I had to be truly stern with a student and I was surprised by my own reaction. I didn’t recognize myself. I am known as the sweet teacher, the teacher who is almost “too nice.” But it felt right to assert my authority and refuse to let my students take advantage of my kindness.

- One of my sweet seventh graders failed the midterm and when I handed the test back to her she covered her face, hugged me, and wailed, “teacher nooooo.” I told her “mai pen rai” which means “no worries” and patted her back. I felt bad. Why should I be required to grade these students when it is such a challenge to learn from me in the first place? The classes are huge. There are 45 students and there aren’t even enough chairs for the entire class. I have at least ten students sitting on the floor and almost every day it rains. The rain falls on the school building’s tin roof and it sounds like millions of acorns are falling from the sky. When I teach I am yelling, almost at the top of my lungs so students in the fifth row can hear me, but when their English comprehension is so low, even the few words that they do understand are lost. It feels unfair to have so much power as a teacher when I have so little experience teaching.

Throughout my eleven months in Thailand running has been my favorite past time. I have experienced every season that Thailand has to offer and I can categorize the change in seasons by my memories of my surroundings during my runs through the rice fields. During the cool season I ran past dried tufts of grass and among fields of golden brown rice stalks waiting to be harvested. Now that is rainy season I run through puddles of mud and past soft emerald greenery that glistens in the golden hour of the evenings.  Ahead of me I run towards mountains hugged by rows of palm trees. Drips of dew cling to tall blades of grass that sprinkle my shins and ankles. I am in motion but in my heart I am still, calm, comforted.

I am holding on the motivation to enjoy every day knowing that I have so few left. I am making the days count.  

[rebelthroughreading-blog]

Drama by Raina Telgemeier

Callie cannot seem to avoid all the drama between her over ambitious play and her failing and confusing love life.

Quick Information

price: $7.38

number of pages: 240

ISBN: 978-0545326995

publisher and date: Scholastic / Graphix 2012

author’s website: https://goraina.com/

genre: juvenile fiction, graphic novel

main subjects: theater, interpersonal relationships, middle school, graphic novel, comic

Plot

Seventh grader, Callie works the stage crew with her middle school drama team on a musical she has loved for ages. As head of set design, she has a grand vision for every scene despite their lacking budget. With left over props from years previous and as much stage magic as the crew can muster, Callie relentlessly works to achieve her set goals. At the same time, she meets new friends, including Jesse who she starts to like as more than friends after being shunted away from her previous crush that kissed and ditched her. Juggling her love and theater lives proves to create more and more drama.

Who’s reading it?

Graphic novels inherently appeal to a wide range of young adults. This one is written on about a 6-8 grade level, and would be of interest of anyone between the ages of 10-16.

Why did I read it?

For years, I have been in the middle of the “Smile is the best book ever!” craze, though I admit that I have never had the pleasure of reading it. While visiting some family, I happened across Telgemeier’s Ghost and was able to read a couple of pages. Intrigued, I promised myself that I would eventually read it for myself. Though I have not read that either, when I learned of this assignment, I was excited to read one of her books as they are so widely thought of as wonderful amongst young adults. Therefore, Drama was the perfect choice, since it fit with the theme. It deals with issues that many teens go through at some point in their lives.

Evaluation

An easy read for young adults, Drama easily appeals to many ages and personalities. At its core, we have a story about a young girl who is a bit different, not popular, beautiful, or extraordinary, but she is passionate about her interests. In her case, Callie is a theater geek who cares more about the stage than most people that she knows. With a single best friend and a couple of other friends that she meets along the way through her theater journey, she speaks to many people. She struggles with the idea of love - it confuses and distracts her. She wants to have these relationships that just do not work. She has these grand ideas about the production that can never work in the setting but she does not give up until she can literally no longer work on making things work any longer. She is persistent, dogged, overwhelmed, and the poster child for the drama kid. Callie is a seventh grader in middle school, but has a story that appeals to even high school students. The same story of confused love, friendship, passion, and drama could have been told in a high school setting with no other changes. 

The graphic novel format adds to the visual style of the narrative. The comic-strip like art style displays the emotions of young adults, much like that of the emoji. Whereas at one time, we had the chibi and super-d art styles to display that over-the-top emotional reactions, now we have the art of emojis. Somewhat difficult for an older generation to understand, the comic-strip style is similar to that now. Everything is about the way that the faces look as they react. For this story, the art brings that drama unlike what only words could do.

The Issues

LGBTQ

interpersonal relationships

One of the least controversial books on my list of great controversial books to read, Drama does in fact have some difficult subjects, especially for such a young age group. The most obvious is that of not one but two homosexual males. They are drama nerds who love to sing, one loves the spotlight, and they are one another’s twin. They display the stereotypical characteristics of gay boys. They are as emotional as the girls, and they love drama.

On top of the use of two gay males in such a young group, one is also a love interest for Callie, who is so focused on dating someone throughout the entire book that she loses track of her real friendship with her best friend sometimes. Instead of giving Callie the job of making a decision, like if she had to choose not to date because it was not the right time or she realized something was more important, she was given the easy out where the choice was no longer hers to make. By making Jesse gay, Callie no longer has any responsibility. 

So why should we read it?

Jessie and Justin are only in eighth grade and gay, but they know that it speaks to them unlike being straight. Justin explains to Callie that he does not want to tell people yet, because he is not ready for it. That would be more appropriate in a later book where they are in high school instead of middle school. He goes to the dance with Liz, who had already guessed that he was gay but went anyway knowing what was really important. Jesse is gay, but he shows a different side than the bombastic, dramatic Justin. He does not need the spotlight, and therefore does not flaunt her sexuality. We do not know until the end that he is gay, because it overall is only important in that Callie thinks she might like him. Their sexuality is not a driving force of the book. It does not define the rest of the story. 

How can we use it?

Young adults need to understand their desires and feelings toward other people. Sometimes, at the most inconvenient times, they want to create relationships when they should be focusing on old ones. Sometimes their desires interrupt their dreams, like her want for a boyfriend that interrupted her dream of making the production. On the reverse side, sometimes that interruption creates new inspiration. Jesse, who takes away from her relationship with Liz, brings her a new inspiration for the theater. He and Justin take Callie to a place with books and materials on theater productions unlike she had ever seen before. They are extra people to be excited about the same things as her. She can revel in her geekdom with others who feel the same way. By the end of the novel, she makes up with her best friend, has more friends, and realizes that her friendships and the theater are where are true passions lie.

Every person needs to hear that message at some point. Even adults have a hard time remembering that they have to go through a journey before they can reap the rewards. And like with all difficult times in life, reading about a success can inspire people to keep trying and working to get to that good ending for themselves. 

Booktalk Ideas

Greg kisses Callie right at the beginning of the book and then ignores her. Callie falls for Jesse, and he turns out to be gay. Greg later tries to get together with her after, and instead of jumping at the chance to be with the guy on whom she had had the original crush, she turns him down and walks home alone. What is the significance of her saying no to Greg at that point? Why would she walk away if she has been looking for a partner the entire time?

Callie spends a lot of time with Jesse, essentially replacing Liz as her primary friend. In the end, after quite a bit of drama, Jesse makes a big deal of Callie making up with Liz for ditching her at the dance after finding out that Jesse is gay and dealing with Greg. When Jesse makes that big deal about Callie and Liz’s relationship, the author is pushing the relationship of friends as more important than the relationship of dating. Is it important for Callie to see how far she has distanced herself from her best friend because of her supposed feelings for these boys? What is the significance of making sure that relationship works when a romantic one does not happen for Callie at all throughout the entire book?

What else can I read?

Smile by Raina Telgemeier

Ghost by Raina Telgemeier

Roller Girl by Victoria Jamieson

Awards and Lists

A Stonewall Honor Book

Harvey Award Nominee

NPR: 5 Great Summer Reads for Teens

A Publishers Weekly Best Book of 2012

A Washington Post Best Book of 2012

New York Times Editors’ Choice

Booklist Editors’ Choice

NPR: Graphic Novels that Flew Under the Radar

New York Public Library’s 100 Titles For Reading and Sharing

School Library Journal Top 10 Graphic Novels of 2012

Professional Reviews

Snow Wildsmith (2012), Booklist - http://go.galegroup.com.libaccess.sjlibrary.org/ps/i.do?id=GALE%7CA304307088&v=2.1&u=csusj&it=r&p=LitRC&sw=w

Kate Quealy-Gainer (2012), Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books - https://muse-jhu-edu.libaccess.sjlibrary.org/article/489049

[benrleeusa]

[John K. Ross] Short Circuit: A Roundup of Recent Federal Court Decisions

Butter grades, toxic coal ash, and Stairway to Heaven.

Please enjoy the latest edition of Short Circuit, a weekly feature from the Institute for Justice.

Friends, the Supreme Court has long treated the nondelegation doctrine as a dead letter. Indeed, since 1935 no public nondelegation challenge has prevailed at SCOTUS, which is unfortunate; the doctrine was meant to safeguard the separation of powers (and thus individual liberty), and its disappearance coincides with rampant overcriminalization. But this week, SCOTUS heard oral argument in Gundy v. United States, which presents the Court with a chance to reconsider. Click here to read IJ's amicus brief.

New on the podcast: a special live edition recorded at UNC law school at the invitation of UNC's Federalist Society chapter and featuring Chris Brook of the ACLU of North Carolina and IJ's very own Justin Pearson. Click here for iTunes.

After state-court criminal conviction, lawyer discovers that a juror had apparently been consulting a book by Ann Coulter (literally entitled Guilty) in the jury room. And that would be a problem if this had been a federal trial, says the First Circuit, but it doesn't create grounds for habeas relief.

Allegation: Nesquehoning, Penn. officer loses control during 100-mph chase (over minor traffic violation), crosses center line and crashes into man's vehicle, seriously injuring him and killing his wife. (The officer pleads guilty to vehicular homicide.) Can the man sue the officer? District court: Yes. Third Circuit: Vacated. The officer's conduct shocks the conscience but does not violate clearly established law. From here on out, though, no qualified immunity for this. Partial dissent: Every reasonable officer knows this is outrageous, unconstitutional conduct.

Perfluorinated compounds from U.S. Navy facilities in Pennsylvania contaminate two families' private wells. The Navy connects them to municipal water supply. Yikes! That's contaminated, too. Third Circuit: The feds are cleaning up the facilities, so most of the families' claims can't go, but it could be that the Navy has to pay for medical monitoring. That claim should not have been dismissed.

Whole Foods gets caught selling prepackaged food that included the weight of the package in the total price of the food—and thus charging consumers for more than they received. Allegation: Executives lied to investors during this scandal, artificially inflating the price of the company's stock. Fifth Circuit: "Just because Whole Foods' prices were not as competitive as advertised, it need not follow that they were not competitive." No securities violations here.

Defendant entered a guilty plea without being fully apprised of the possible immigration consequences, though he says he wouldn't have gone to trial anyway. Sixth Circuit (over a dissent): But he might have been able to negotiate about those consequences in the course of plea bargaining, so he gets to withdraw the plea anyway.

District court: Toxic coal ash is most likely leaking from ponds near a soon-to-be shuttered Tennessee Valley Authority power plant into the Cumberland River near a popular recreation spot. The TVA must move the coal ash to a new facility with better protections against leakages. Sixth Circuit: Not so. Because the contamination reaches the river indirectly (first seeping into groundwater and then reaching the river), the Clean Water Act doesn't apply. (Other laws might, though.) Judge Clay, dissenting: "Can a polluter escape liability under the Clean Water Act … by moving its drainage pipes a few feet from the riverbank? The Fourth and Ninth Circuits have said no. In two cases today, the majority says yes."

Environmentalists: Toxic coal ash is leaking from ponds near a Kentucky power plant into groundwater and then into a nearby lake. Sixth Circuit: Not a Clean Water Act violation. But the Resource Conservation and Recovery Act, which regulates solid waste management, applies. The RCRA claim should not have been dismissed. Judge Clay, concurring in part, dissenting in part: The CWA applies, too.

Butter sold in Wisconsin must bear a grade based on 32 different characteristics (relating to flavor, body, color, and salt) that is bestowed by state or federal butter graders. (No other state requires butter grading.) Ohio dairy company that sells its artisanal Amish-style butter nationwide objects to Wisconsin's grading—it's too expensive and, besides that, it violates the Fourteenth Amendment and the dormant commerce clause. Seventh Circuit: Nope. Butter badges build better butter buyers.

Did Led Zeppelin steal "Stairway to Heaven"? (Have a listen to Spirit's song "Taurus" and decide for yourself.) Ninth Circuit: Could be. The jury should have been instructed that the selection and arrangement of unprotectable musical elements are protectable. Remanded for a new trial, and this time "Taurus" must be played in front of the jury.

Decatur, Ala. woman arrested, indicted on drug charges (which prosecutors agree to dismiss upon her paying court costs). But housing authorities terminate her Section 8 voucher (which prohibits recipients from engaging in drug-related criminal activity) based on the indictment. Eleventh Circuit: Can't do that. The authorities needed to establish by a preponderance of the evidence that she committed the crime; the indictment establishes only probable cause, which isn't enough. Concurrence: This is what our precedent requires, but it should be overruled en banc.

Allegation: Prisoner is shanked in the eye by fellow inmate, dies the following day. Did the Springville, Ala. prison warden unconstitutionally interfere with the deceased's care by approving a "do not resuscitate" order and authorizing physicians to take him off life support? The Eleventh Circuit says yes. Prison wardens cannot act as proper surrogates to make end-of-life decisions. No qualified immunity.

Deaf man alleges that four Hallandale Beach, Fla. websites fail to provide the closed captioning required by federal statute. District court: Only one of the four websites belongs to the city. (One is Facebook.) And anyway, the man had to file a FCC complaint before filing suit. Case dismissed. Eleventh Circuit: Vacated. There's no need to file a complaint first. (But if indeed three of the sites are not run by the city, those claims can't go.)

"How did we ever reach the point where this Court, sitting en banc, must debate whether a carjacking in which an assailant struck a 13-year-old girl in the mouth with a baseball bat and a cohort fired an AK-47 at her family is a crime of violence? It's nuts." So writes Judge William Pryor, concurring in the Eleventh Circuit's decision to implement a saving construction and find that a residual clause in the Armed Career Criminal Act defining the term "crime of violence" is not unconstitutionally vague (as the Supreme Court has held other similarly worded residual clauses to be). Judge Jill Pryor dissenting: It's up to Congress to save it.

In 2008, Frederick, Md. sheriff deputies espy woman sitting on curb eating a sandwich before work, demand identification. She provides El Salvadoran ID, and the deputies discover she has an outstanding immigration warrant, so they arrest and jail her. Fourth Circuit (2013): Unconstitutional seizure. But back to the district court to determine whether the deputies' actions were official gov't policy. District Court (2018): They were! The county (plus its sheriff and deputies) are liable for the constitutional violations.

And in en banc news, the Third Circuit will reconsider its holding that TSA screeners are not law enforcement officers and so are immune from suits over intentional torts—in this case, fabricating criminal charges. (We discussed the original panel decision on the podcast.) The Ninth Circuit, however, will not reconsider its decision to deny qualified immunity to San Jose, Calif. officers who allegedly forced Trump supporters to exit a rally through a violent crowd of anti-Trump protesters.

This week, the Institute for Justice and Texas veterinarian Dr. Ron Hines stepped into the ring with the state vet board to defend free speech for the second time. IJ and Ron first mixed it up with the board back in 2013 when it forbade Ron—retired and disabled but still eager to help animals—from giving advice to pet owners around the world via the internet. Ron argued that professional advice is protected speech, but the Fifth Circuit disagreed, ruling that his emails were occupational conduct akin to welding or surgery. But the U.S. Supreme Court weighed in over the summer in a different case, making clear that professional advice is fully protected speech and not outside the First Amendment. Click here to learn more.

[shg11]

(CNN)It remains among America's most heinous nightmares: the lives of 20 little children -- dancers and swimmers, pianists and painters, budding readers, little sisters and big brothers -- extinguished in a flash of violence inside Sandy Hook Elementary.

Five years later, even those who have never set foot near Newtown, Connecticut, can conjure the scene painted by police of a first-grade classroom transformed into a killing field. Can see the faces of anguished parents desperate for proof of life, then later, tiny caskets overloaded with stuffed animals never to be named.

Since the 2012 massacre, a new school has been built for the students of a town known, now and for years to come, as a cradle of sorrow -- but also as the home of quiet resilience and untold love.

The 12 girls, eight boys and six women whose futures were stolen that day will be remembered, always. Here is a glimpse of what we learned about them in the days after they were lost:

Charlotte Bacon, 6

Charlotte was sweet, outgoing and full of energy, her grandmother told CNN affiliate WCCO in Minnesota.

"This is tough. This is surreal. You can't believe this could happen," Irene Hagen told the station. "The whole family is just devastated, and we're all trying to come to terms with it."

She said her granddaughter loved school and dresses. Her hair was a mass of beautiful red curls.

"It's horrible. It's really horrible," Hagen told WCCO. "It's hard to believe that someone would kill children, innocent children."

Daniel Barden, 7

Daniel earned his missing two front teeth, his family used to say. His "fearless" pursuit of happiness and life also earned him ripped jeans.

"Despite that, he was, as his mother said, 'Just So Good,'" his family wrote in a statement published in the New Haven Register.

Taking after his musician dad, he and his siblings -- brother James and sister Natalie -- formed a band. Daniel played drums.

He loved to ride waves at the beach and make s'mores around bonfires with his cousins.

"He embodied everything that is wholesome and innocent in the world," the family said.

Rachel D'Avino, 29

She probably didn't know it when she died, but her best friend was about to propose.

He had recently asked D'Avino's parents for their blessing, and he was planning to ask for her hand in marriage on Christmas Eve.

That and other details about D'Avino's life were described in an obituary posted on the website of Munson-Lovetere Funeral Homes of Connecticut.

"Her presence and tremendous smile brightened any room she entered," it read.

Born in Waterbury, D'Avino received her undergraduate degree from the University of Hartford and her master's from Post University. She was working toward her doctorate at the University of St. Joseph of Hartford.

D'Avino loved karate, cooking, animals, photography and her two younger siblings.

"Her passion, however, was her occupation as a behavioral therapist working with children within the autism spectrum," the obituary read.

Olivia Engel, 6

Her favorite stuffed animal was a lamb; pink and purple were her favorite colors.

Olivia's family posted a statement on Facebook with those and other details about their beloved daughter.

"She was insightful for her age and had a great sense of humor. She laughed a lot and always lit up a room including the people around her. She was very creative and was always drawing and designing things," her family said.

Olivia took art and dance lessons, played tennis, soccer and swam. She was involved in Girl Scouts and musical theater. She loved school and did well in math and reading.

Her family described her as a "grateful child ... never greedy." Each night, Olivia led grace at the dinner table.

Josephine Gay, 7

Josephine celebrated her seventh birthday just days before she died. In one picture, published in various news stories, she's smiling with glasses on the tip of her nose.

Josephine liked to ride her bike and sell lemonade in her neighborhood in the summer, The Wall Street Journal reported. The little girl loved the color purple.

Dylan Hockley, 6

Dylan and his family had moved from England to Connecticut two years before he died.

"We specifically chose Sandy Hook for the community and the elementary school. We do not and shall never regret this choice," Dylan's family said in a statement. "Our boys have flourished here, and our family's happiness has been limitless."

Dylan's family said he loved to cuddle and play tag with neighbors at the bus stop every morning.

"He was learning to read and was so proud when he read us a new book every day," the family said. "He adored his big brother Jake, his best friend and role model."

Dylan's parents also expressed gratitude to the educators who died with their son.

"We cannot speak highly enough of Dawn Hochsprung and Mary Sherlach, exceptional women who knew both our children," the family said. "Dylan's teacher, Vicki Soto, was warm and funny and Dylan loved her dearly. We take great comfort in knowing that Dylan was not alone when he died, but was wrapped in the arms of his amazing aide, Anne Marie Murphy. Dylan loved Mrs. Murphy so much and pointed at her picture on our refrigerator every day.

"Though our hearts break for Dylan, they are also filled with love for these and the other beautiful women who all selflessly died trying to save our children."

Dawn Lafferty Hochsprung, 47

Hochsprung, who became Sandy Hook Elementary's principal two years before the shooting, was "really nice and very fun, but she was also very much a tough lady in the right sort of sense," friend Tom Prunty said.

And the students loved her. "Even little kids know when someone cares about them, and that was her," he said.

"I never saw her without a smile," said Aimee Seaver, the mother of a first-grader.

Hochsprung lived in Woodbury, Connecticut, with her husband, two daughters and three stepdaughters.

The career educator majored in special education for her bachelor's and master's degrees in the 1990s and had just entered the PhD program at Esteves School of Education at the Sage Colleges in New York. Hochsprung led a school district's strategic planning panel and was the recipient of a national school grant.

Her accomplishments included overseeing the installation of a new security system requiring every visitor to ring the front entrance's doorbell after the school doors locked at 9:30 a.m.

"My mom, Dawn Hochsprung, was taken tragically from me. But she went down in a blaze of glory that truly represents who she was," her daughter, Cristina Hassinger, tweeted.

Madeleine Hsu, 6

Sweet. Unique. Bright. Determined. Sparking.

Those are words Madeleine's family used to describe their little girl.

"She was an avid reader who loved running and dancing," they said. "She was a born leader."

Catherine Hubbard, 6

The little girl with bright red hair will be remembered for her smile and her love of animals.

Catherine is survived by her older brother, her parents, grandparents, great-grandmother, uncles, aunts and nine cousins.

"Her family prays that she, all the students of Sandy Hook Elementary, and all those affected by this brutal event find peace in their hearts," they wrote in her obituary.

A Facebook page honoring Catherine spoke of how she is now an angel.

"Such a beautiful little soul," the post read, saying the family's loss is heaven's gain.

Chase Kowalski, 7

What Chase really wanted for Christmas was his two front teeth.

"I saw him two days ago, and I asked him if he wanted to see Santa, and he told me that he wanted his teeth back, and it was really sweet," Chase's neighbor, Keeley Baumann, 13, told the News-Times newspaper.

At 6, Chase completed his first triathlon, but that was just one of his pursuits. He loved baseball. He was in the Cub Scouts. He looked forward to the kids' workshop at the local Home Depot.

"We are thankful to the Lord for giving us seven years with our beautiful loving son. It is with heavy hearts that we return him," the family said in an obituary.

Jesse Lewis, 6

Jesse loved math, riding horses and playing at his mom's farm, his father told the New York Post.

"He was just a happy boy," Neil Heslin said. "Everybody knew Jesse."

He told the newspaper that his son was planning to make gingerbread houses at school. Heslin was planning to help.

Instead, the last time he saw his son was when he dropped him off at school at 9 a.m.

"He was going to go places in life," Heslin told the Post.

Ana Marquez-Greene, 6

"One, two, three, ready and go," Ana counts down in a homemade video provided to CNN affiliate WTIC.

The girl in pigtails stands in front of a piano as her brother plays. Her voice is clear, bigger than her size. Ana smiles and waves.

Her father, Jimmy Greene, is a jazz musician. His representative released a statement on Ana's death, describing the little girl as "beautiful and vibrant."

"The family has requested privacy at this time of heartbreaking loss," it read. They "have asked us to relay their sincere gratitude for the outpouring of support and sympathy locally, nationally and internationally."

James Mattioli, 6

As he was quick to remind everyone, James was 6 and ¾.

"He loved to wear shorts and T-shirts in any weather and grab the gel to spike his hair," his family said in a loving obituary. "He would often sing at the top of his lungs, and once asked, 'How old do I have to be to sing on a stage?'"

Indoors, he spent his time playing games on the iPad -- especially the lawn-mowing one. Outdoors, he loved to dive off the diving board, "swim like a fish" in his grandfather's pool and ride his bike -- without training wheels.

"I need to go outside, Mom. I need fresh air," he would often say.

He was born four weeks early -- because he was hungry, his family joked.

James had a voracious appetite. His favorites? His dad's egg omelets with bacon, and his mom's French toast.

He looked up to his older sister, wanting to do everything she could.

"They were the best of friends, going to school together, playing games together, and making endless drawings and crafts together."

The boy, whose family fondly called him "J," will be incredibly missed, they said.

Grace McDonnell, 7

Grace was the "light and love of our family," her mother told CNN.

She loved her brother, school, the beach and wanted to be a painter.

For her seventh birthday in November, Grace requested a purple cake with a turquoise peace sign and polka dots. And that's exactly what she got.

"She was all about peace and gentleness and kindness," Lynn McDonnell told CNN's Anderson Cooper. "Grace didn't have an ounce of hate in her, and so we have to live through Grace and realize that hate is not how our family is."

The family drew cupcakes, ice creams cones, lighthouses and seagulls -- all things Grace loved -- on her tiny white casket.

Anne Marie Murphy, 52

A hero. That's how a first responder reportedly described Murphy to her father.

He told Newsday that authorities told him her body was found in a classroom, covering young children killed in the shooting in an apparent attempt to shield them.

"She died doing what she loved. She was serving children and serving God," Murphy's mother, Alice McGowan, told the newspaper.

A married mother of four, Murphy was artistic and hardworking, her parents said.

"She was a happy soul," her mother told Newsday. "She was a very good daughter, a good mother, a good wife."

Emilie Parker, 6

She could "light up a room," Emilie's father said about his oldest daughter.

Robbie Parker described her as "bright, creative and very loving." Emilie was always willing to try new things, he said, except food. Her laugh was infectious.

"My daughter Emilie would be one of the first ones to be standing up and giving her love and support to all of those victims, because that is the type of person she is," Parker said.

She was "an exceptional artist, and she always carried around her markers and pencils so she never missed an opportunity to draw a picture or make a card for someone," he said.

"This world is a better place because she has been in it," Parker said.

Emilie's aunt described her niece as the "sweetest little girl I've ever known."

The family is devastated that "someone so beautiful and perfect is no longer going to be in our lives and for no reason," said Jill Cottle Garrett.

Emilie's father, who works as a physician assistant in the newborn unit at the Danbury hospital, recalled his last conversation with his daughter was in Portuguese, a language he was teaching her.

"She said that she loved me, and I gave her a kiss, and I was out the door," he said.

Jack Pinto, 6

Jack was a first-grader, and his interests ran the gamut -- baseball, basketball, wrestling, snow skiing. But his first love was football, and his idol was Victor Cruz, then the New York Giants star receiver.

Cruz paid tribute to the team's young fan by scribbling "Jack Pinto. My Hero" on one of his cleats and "R.I.P. Jack Pinto" on the other for the team's game with the Atlanta Falcons the Sunday after the shooting. On his glove, Cruz wrote, "Jack Pinto. This one is 4 U!"

Jack participated in his first wrestling match not long before his death and won a medal, according to the president of the New Milford Wrestling Association.

"In life and in death, Jack will forever be remembered for the immeasurable joy he brought to all who had the pleasure of knowing him, a joy whose wide reach belied his six short years," Jack's family wrote in an obituary for the little boy.

Noah Pozner, 6

"He had a huge heart, and he was so much fun, a little bit rambunctious, lots of spirit," Noah's aunt told CNN. "He was really the light of the room."

Victoria Haller said her nephew loved playing with his cousins and siblings, especially his twin sister.

"He was a gorgeous, gorgeous boy, and he could really get what he wanted just by batting those long eyelashes and looking at you with those big blue eyes. You really couldn't say no to him," she said.

His siblings weren't told immediately how Noah passed away, Haller said.

"How do you tell them that's how their brother died?" she asked. "It's the unthinkable really."

Caroline Previdi, 6

"You were a sweet little girl and you will be missed."

That's the message that Caroline's aunt reportedly tweeted, saying good-bye to her niece, according to the online version of the Press-Telegram in Long Beach, California.

"It hurts even more to see a familiar name on that list," the report said Paige Tremblay also tweeted.

A Facebook page called "RIP Caroline Previdi -- Sandy Hook Massacre Victim" contains dozens of messages. One reads: "Rest in Peace, sweetheart. I know for sure that God is with you and all the other sweet little angels. I feel so very sorry for all these families who lost their precious kids, my heart goes out to all of you."

Jessica Rekos, 6

Jessica loved everything about horses -- horse movies, horse books, drawing horses and writing stories about them.

She asked Santa this year for new cowgirl boots and a cowgirl hat. Her family had promised she could get her own horse when she turned 10.

"She was a creative, beautiful little girl," her family said in a statement, describing Jessica as their "rock."

"She had an answer for everything, she didn't miss a trick, and she outsmarted us every time. We called her our little CEO for the way she carefully thought out and planned everything," they said. "We cannot imagine our life without her."

Jessica also loved orca whales and playing with her two little brothers.

"We are mourning her loss, sharing our beautiful memories we have of her, and trying to help her brother Travis understand why he can't play with his best friend," her family said.

Avielle Richman, 6

Avielle was happiest when she was on a horse.

Her trainer, Annette Sullivan, told the Connecticut Post that Avielle would "giggle when she trotted."

Like kids her age, her first loose tooth was a sign she was growing up.

"She showed me her wiggly tooth, she was so excited," Sullivan told the newspaper. "She was the most delightful little girl you ever met in your life."

Lauren Rousseau, 30

Rousseau, a permanent substitute teacher at Sandy Hook Elementary, "wanted to be a teacher from before she even went to kindergarten," her mother said in a written statement. "We will miss her terribly and will take comfort knowing that she had achieved that dream," Teresa Rousseau said.

She grew up in Danbury, Connecticut, and earned a bachelor's degree from the University of Connecticut and a master's degree in elementary education from the University of Bridgeport.

Rousseau "worked as a substitute teacher in Danbury, New Milford and Newtown before she was hired in November as a permanent substitute teacher at Sandy Hook," her mother said.

Mary Sherlach, 56

Sherlach, Sandy Hook Elementary's school psychologist, was with Hochsprung when they heard a "pop, pop, pop" sound around 9:30 a.m., a parent who was with both women at the time told CNN. Sherlach was shot to death after heading into the hall to find out what was happening.

"I ... am always ready to assist in problem-solving, intervention and prevention," Sherlach wrote on her website.

Sherlach earned her undergraduate degree in psychology at SUNY Cortland and a master's degree at Southern Connecticut State University. She worked as a rehabilitation assistant at a group home for disabled adults and as a community mental health placement specialist before becoming a school psychologist.

She worked in three Connecticut school systems before moving to Sandy Hook Elementary in 1994. During her time in Newtown, Sherlach kept busy as a member of numerous groups, including the district conflict resolution committee, safe school climate committee, crisis intervention team and student instructional team.

Sherlach and her husband of more than three decades lived in Trumbull, Connecticut, and, together, they were "proud parents" of two daughters in their late 20s. Her website listed her interests as gardening, reading and going to the theater.

Victoria Soto, 27

Soto, a first-grade teacher at Sandy Hook Elementary, moved her students away from the classroom door when she heard gunfire, which students initially "thought were hammers falling," according to the father of one of her students.

"That's when the gunman burst in, did not say a word, no facial expressions, and proceeded to shoot their teacher," said Robert Licata, whose 6-year-old son, Aiden, escaped by running past the shooter.

Soto's mother said her daughter was selfless.

"She would not hesitate to think to save anyone else before herself, and especially children. She loved them more than life, and she would definitely put herself in front of them any day," Donna Soto told CNN.

Soto had wanted to be a teacher since she was 3 and talked about her students with "such fondness and caring," her mother said.

Soto's cousin, James Wiltsie, said Soto "instinctively went into action, when a monster came into her classroom, and tried to protect the kids that she loved so much."

"We just want the public to know that Vicki was a hero," he said.

Soto had a dog she loved. The black lab Roxie spent Saturday wandering around Soto's apartment, apparently looking for her, relatives said.

Benjamin Wheeler, 6

Ben loved The Beatles, lighthouses and the No. 7 train to Sunnyside, Queens, his family said in a statement.

He and his older brother Nate "filled the house with the noise of four children."

"Ben Wheeler was an irrepressibly bright and spirited boy whose love of fun and excitement at the wonders of life and the world could rarely be contained. His rush to experience life was headlong, creative and immediate," his family said.

Ben loved soccer and swimming. Recently, he performed at a piano recital -- a major feat for a little boy who rarely sat still.

Friday morning before school, he told him mom: "I still want to be an architect, but I also want to be a paleontologist, because that's what Nate is going to be, and I want to do everything Nate does."

Ben, Nate, and their parents, Francine and David Wheeler, moved to Newtown in 2007. Francine Wheeler is a music teacher and performer. David Wheeler is an illustrator and designer.

Two days after the shooting, Francine Wheeler's band posted the following message on its Facebook page:

"With heavy hearts, we inform you of our saddest news: Francine Wheeler, a founding member of The Dream Jam Band, has lost her precious 6-year old son, Ben, to the tragedy in Newtown, Connecticut. Our prayers and love go out to Francine, David and Ben's big brother, Nate."

Allison Wyatt, 6

Allison once offered her snacks to a stranger on plane. That's just the type of person she was.

Allison was a "sweet, creative, funny, intelligent little girl who had an amazing life ahead of her," her parents said.

They described their daughter as kind-hearted. She loved to draw and wanted to be an artist.

"She loved to laugh and was developing her own wonderful sense of humor that ranged from just being a silly 6-year-old to coming up with observations that more than once had us crying with laughter," her parents said.

"Allison made the world a better place for six, far too short years, and we now have to figure out how to move on without her ... We love and miss her so much."

Read more: http://www.cnn.com/2017/12/14/us/sandy-hook-newtown-shooting-victims-profiles/index.html

[hottytoddynews]

In a sea of middle school students dashing from class to class, one sixth grader takes her time. Cane in hand, she methodically maneuvers around obstacles, hearing every tiny squeal, pop and bang coming from the whirl of people around her.

Twelve-year-old Sarah Harmon, a student at Lafayette Middle School, is completely blind, but her ears have taken over the sensory job that her eyes cannot perform.

Her acute hearing helped her find a passion for music. The extraordinary gift of perfect pitch allowed her to excel quickly, despite having never seen a sheet of music.

Sarah has been taking piano lessons since she was five years old. She met her current piano instructor, Robert McGehee, when she was nine. McGehee described Sarah as simply amazing.

“I knew immediately that she had perfect pitch,” he said. “She can hear something and immediately know it before I even have time to look at the music.”

Sarah was the first blind student McGehee had ever worked with. He knew his teaching style would need to be different, but after meeting her for the first time McGehee realized she only needed his help with half of the work.

“She already knows the notes,” he said. “All we really do is work on hand posture, making sure she’s not doing something she’s not supposed to with her hands crossing over or anything.”

Diagnosed with Leber’s congenital amaurosis at four months old, Sarah Harmon is completely blind, but that hasn’t stopped her from excelling at music and in the classroom.

Her quick learning holds true with academics as well. She is enrolled in all of the same classes as her sixth-grade peers except one. 

At sixth period she parts ways with her classmates to meet with her facilitator, Cindy Ross.  Sarah has worked on braille exercises with Ross for seven years.

“She’s very curious. She wants to know exactly how the world works, which is wonderful,” Ross said. “She’s outgoing, very social. Kind of like a little grown-up.”

Their relationship is about more than just schoolwork. Sarah calls Ross her “school mom.”

“We went from kindergarten to elementary school to upper elementary, and now we’re in middle school. Now we deal with boys and crushes and friends,” Ross said. “She has developed into this beautiful flower, and I’ve gotten to watch that.”

Ross makes sure their time together is spent teaching Sarah an alternative way of completing every assignment given to her classmates. 

“When everyone else was starting to learn to write their letters, Ms. Cindy was showing me how to write them in braille,” Sarah said.

Ross wants to keep Sarah fully immersed with other kids her age. She and Sarah use a braille writer to type papers, a magnet board to solve math equations and a raised map to study geography.

“I like to read braille because it’s kind of like a secret language that other people can’t understand,” Sarah said.

Ross also transfers the lyrics of Sarah’s choir music into braille for her.

Jerri Harmon, Sarah’s mother, says she worries constantly about her daughter

“My goal is to make everything and anything that Sarah does appropriate for her and her disability,” Ross said. “It’s very important for me to have her understand what’s going on and be a part of it, even if she sometimes doesn’t like it, but she’s so cooperative and so willing to try anything. You really couldn’t ask for a better student.”

Every day at 2:06 p.m., Ross says her goodbyes after walking Sarah to the choir building. Sarah is a member of the advanced choir.

Sarah is the first student whom choir teacher Hannah Gadd taught that has the gift of perfect pitch.

“The fact that she has it really sets her apart [in the choir], especially since she’s in the sixth grade,” Gadd said.

Only one other sixth-grader was accepted into the advanced choir, otherwise made up entirely of seventh- and eighth-graders.

“I didn’t really know about [the advanced placement] at first, so I was like ‘whoa!’ The advanced goes to choir at the end of the day at seventh period, and the beginners go before us at sixth period,” Sarah said.

Her mother, Jerri Harmon, was not surprised that Sarah was invited to move up. She knew her daughter loved music even before she knew Sarah was blind.

“I knew something was up when I was feeding her her bottle,” Harmon said. “Her eyes would move side to side.”

Harmon’s mother worked at an eye clinic at the time and knew her granddaughter’s eyes should have been tracking movement at that point in her infancy.

Sarah was diagnosed with Leber’s congenital amaurosis at four months old. It took her family by surprise since it is a hereditary disease but both parents are fully sighted.

Robert McGehee, Sarah’s piano teacher, tried to prepare for her early lessons by wearing a blindfold.

“I was in the pediatrician’s office with her, and I started busting out crying,” Harmon said. “You do everything that you think is right during the pregnancy by textbook and then find out that she had that kind of trouble.”

As Sarah grew, so did her passion for music. The Harmons rallied behind their daughter and never wavered in their support.

“[We do] anything to foster it because it’s not like she’s going to be out there playing soccer or basketball or anything like that,” Harmon said. 

The family hit another medical wall with Sarah when she was diagnosed with scoliosis and needed surgery to place rods in her back.

“I would take her in for a well-child checkup and they would find something else going on with her. I was like, how much more can this kid take? It’s not fair to her,” Harmon said.

After the surgery, Sarah found comfort in music. She asked her parents for a keyboard that she could play in bed. During the recovery process, Sarah would pass the time playing the piano or listen to her favorite a capella group, the Pentatonix.

Harmon said her family’s faith kept them strong during hard times with Sarah’s health.

“Every hour of the day, I’m always worried,” she said. “But it’s in God’s hands, and we have to leave it there.”

Sarah’s perfect pitch is an example of God leading her to do what she wants to do, according to Harmon.

Sarah said she just wants to keep on living a good life. She has two dreams. One is to meet the Pentatonix in-person. The other is to one day become a music teacher for children.

“I feel very happy and excited because I know more good things will happen in my future,” Sarah said.

Lauren Layton is a senior journalism major at the University of Mississippi.

The post Hearing is Believing for Blind LMS Student with Gift for Music (with Video) appeared first on HottyToddy.com.

[trendingnewsb]

5 years after Sandy Hook, the victims have not been forgotten

(CNN)It remains among America’s most heinous nightmares: the lives of 20 little children — dancers and swimmers, pianists and painters, budding readers, little sisters and big brothers — extinguished in a flash of violence inside Sandy Hook Elementary.

Five years later, even those who have never set foot near Newtown, Connecticut, can conjure the scene painted by police of a first-grade classroom transformed into a killing field. Can see the faces of anguished parents desperate for proof of life, then later, tiny caskets overloaded with stuffed animals never to be named.

Since the 2012 massacre, a new school has been built for the students of a town known, now and for years to come, as a cradle of sorrow — but also as the home of quiet resilience and untold love.

The 12 girls, eight boys and six women whose futures were stolen that day will be remembered, always. Here is a glimpse of what we learned about them in the days after they were lost:

Charlotte Bacon, 6

Charlotte was sweet, outgoing and full of energy, her grandmother told CNN affiliate WCCO in Minnesota.

“This is tough. This is surreal. You can’t believe this could happen,” Irene Hagen told the station. “The whole family is just devastated, and we’re all trying to come to terms with it.”

She said her granddaughter loved school and dresses. Her hair was a mass of beautiful red curls.

“It’s horrible. It’s really horrible,” Hagen told WCCO. “It’s hard to believe that someone would kill children, innocent children.”

Daniel Barden, 7

Daniel earned his missing two front teeth, his family used to say. His “fearless” pursuit of happiness and life also earned him ripped jeans.

“Despite that, he was, as his mother said, ‘Just So Good,'” his family wrote in a statement published in the New Haven Register.

Taking after his musician dad, he and his siblings — brother James and sister Natalie — formed a band. Daniel played drums.

He loved to ride waves at the beach and make s’mores around bonfires with his cousins.

“He embodied everything that is wholesome and innocent in the world,” the family said.

Rachel D’Avino, 29

She probably didn’t know it when she died, but her best friend was about to propose.

He had recently asked D’Avino’s parents for their blessing, and he was planning to ask for her hand in marriage on Christmas Eve.

That and other details about D’Avino’s life were described in an obituary posted on the website of Munson-Lovetere Funeral Homes of Connecticut.

“Her presence and tremendous smile brightened any room she entered,” it read.

Born in Waterbury, D’Avino received her undergraduate degree from the University of Hartford and her master’s from Post University. She was working toward her doctorate at the University of St. Joseph of Hartford.

D’Avino loved karate, cooking, animals, photography and her two younger siblings.

“Her passion, however, was her occupation as a behavioral therapist working with children within the autism spectrum,” the obituary read.

Olivia Engel, 6

Her favorite stuffed animal was a lamb; pink and purple were her favorite colors.

Olivia’s family posted a statement on Facebook with those and other details about their beloved daughter.

“She was insightful for her age and had a great sense of humor. She laughed a lot and always lit up a room including the people around her. She was very creative and was always drawing and designing things,” her family said.

Olivia took art and dance lessons, played tennis, soccer and swam. She was involved in Girl Scouts and musical theater. She loved school and did well in math and reading.

Her family described her as a “grateful child … never greedy.” Each night, Olivia led grace at the dinner table.

Josephine Gay, 7

Josephine celebrated her seventh birthday just days before she died. In one picture, published in various news stories, she’s smiling with glasses on the tip of her nose.

Josephine liked to ride her bike and sell lemonade in her neighborhood in the summer, The Wall Street Journal reported. The little girl loved the color purple.

Dylan Hockley, 6

Dylan and his family had moved from England to Connecticut two years before he died.

“We specifically chose Sandy Hook for the community and the elementary school. We do not and shall never regret this choice,” Dylan’s family said in a statement. “Our boys have flourished here, and our family’s happiness has been limitless.”

Dylan’s family said he loved to cuddle and play tag with neighbors at the bus stop every morning.

“He was learning to read and was so proud when he read us a new book every day,” the family said. “He adored his big brother Jake, his best friend and role model.”

Dylan’s parents also expressed gratitude to the educators who died with their son.

“We cannot speak highly enough of Dawn Hochsprung and Mary Sherlach, exceptional women who knew both our children,” the family said. “Dylan’s teacher, Vicki Soto, was warm and funny and Dylan loved her dearly. We take great comfort in knowing that Dylan was not alone when he died, but was wrapped in the arms of his amazing aide, Anne Marie Murphy. Dylan loved Mrs. Murphy so much and pointed at her picture on our refrigerator every day.

“Though our hearts break for Dylan, they are also filled with love for these and the other beautiful women who all selflessly died trying to save our children.”

Dawn Lafferty Hochsprung, 47

Hochsprung, who became Sandy Hook Elementary’s principal two years before the shooting, was “really nice and very fun, but she was also very much a tough lady in the right sort of sense,” friend Tom Prunty said.

And the students loved her. “Even little kids know when someone cares about them, and that was her,” he said.

“I never saw her without a smile,” said Aimee Seaver, the mother of a first-grader.

Hochsprung lived in Woodbury, Connecticut, with her husband, two daughters and three stepdaughters.

The career educator majored in special education for her bachelor’s and master’s degrees in the 1990s and had just entered the PhD program at Esteves School of Education at the Sage Colleges in New York. Hochsprung led a school district’s strategic planning panel and was the recipient of a national school grant.

Her accomplishments included overseeing the installation of a new security system requiring every visitor to ring the front entrance’s doorbell after the school doors locked at 9:30 a.m.

“My mom, Dawn Hochsprung, was taken tragically from me. But she went down in a blaze of glory that truly represents who she was,” her daughter, Cristina Hassinger, tweeted.

Madeleine Hsu, 6

Sweet. Unique. Bright. Determined. Sparking.

Those are words Madeleine’s family used to describe their little girl.

“She was an avid reader who loved running and dancing,” they said. “She was a born leader.”

Catherine Hubbard, 6

The little girl with bright red hair will be remembered for her smile and her love of animals.

Catherine is survived by her older brother, her parents, grandparents, great-grandmother, uncles, aunts and nine cousins.

“Her family prays that she, all the students of Sandy Hook Elementary, and all those affected by this brutal event find peace in their hearts,” they wrote in her obituary.

A Facebook page honoring Catherine spoke of how she is now an angel.

“Such a beautiful little soul,” the post read, saying the family’s loss is heaven’s gain.

Chase Kowalski, 7

What Chase really wanted for Christmas was his two front teeth.

“I saw him two days ago, and I asked him if he wanted to see Santa, and he told me that he wanted his teeth back, and it was really sweet,” Chase’s neighbor, Keeley Baumann, 13, told the News-Times newspaper.

At 6, Chase completed his first triathlon, but that was just one of his pursuits. He loved baseball. He was in the Cub Scouts. He looked forward to the kids’ workshop at the local Home Depot.

“We are thankful to the Lord for giving us seven years with our beautiful loving son. It is with heavy hearts that we return him,” the family said in an obituary.

Jesse Lewis, 6

Jesse loved math, riding horses and playing at his mom’s farm, his father told the New York Post.

“He was just a happy boy,” Neil Heslin said. “Everybody knew Jesse.”

He told the newspaper that his son was planning to make gingerbread houses at school. Heslin was planning to help.

Instead, the last time he saw his son was when he dropped him off at school at 9 a.m.

“He was going to go places in life,” Heslin told the Post.

Ana Marquez-Greene, 6

“One, two, three, ready and go,” Ana counts down in a homemade video provided to CNN affiliate WTIC.

The girl in pigtails stands in front of a piano as her brother plays. Her voice is clear, bigger than her size. Ana smiles and waves.

Her father, Jimmy Greene, is a jazz musician. His representative released a statement on Ana’s death, describing the little girl as “beautiful and vibrant.”

“The family has requested privacy at this time of heartbreaking loss,” it read. They “have asked us to relay their sincere gratitude for the outpouring of support and sympathy locally, nationally and internationally.”

James Mattioli, 6

As he was quick to remind everyone, James was 6 and ¾.

“He loved to wear shorts and T-shirts in any weather and grab the gel to spike his hair,” his family said in a loving obituary. “He would often sing at the top of his lungs, and once asked, ‘How old do I have to be to sing on a stage?'”

Indoors, he spent his time playing games on the iPad — especially the lawn-mowing one. Outdoors, he loved to dive off the diving board, “swim like a fish” in his grandfather’s pool and ride his bike — without training wheels.

“I need to go outside, Mom. I need fresh air,” he would often say.

He was born four weeks early — because he was hungry, his family joked.

James had a voracious appetite. His favorites? His dad’s egg omelets with bacon, and his mom’s French toast.

He looked up to his older sister, wanting to do everything she could.

“They were the best of friends, going to school together, playing games together, and making endless drawings and crafts together.”

The boy, whose family fondly called him “J,” will be incredibly missed, they said.

Grace McDonnell, 7

Grace was the “light and love of our family,” her mother told CNN.

She loved her brother, school, the beach and wanted to be a painter.

For her seventh birthday in November, Grace requested a purple cake with a turquoise peace sign and polka dots. And that’s exactly what she got.

“She was all about peace and gentleness and kindness,” Lynn McDonnell told CNN’s Anderson Cooper. “Grace didn’t have an ounce of hate in her, and so we have to live through Grace and realize that hate is not how our family is.”

The family drew cupcakes, ice creams cones, lighthouses and seagulls — all things Grace loved — on her tiny white casket.

Anne Marie Murphy, 52

A hero. That’s how a first responder reportedly described Murphy to her father.

He told Newsday that authorities told him her body was found in a classroom, covering young children killed in the shooting in an apparent attempt to shield them.

“She died doing what she loved. She was serving children and serving God,” Murphy’s mother, Alice McGowan, told the newspaper.

A married mother of four, Murphy was artistic and hardworking, her parents said.

“She was a happy soul,” her mother told Newsday. “She was a very good daughter, a good mother, a good wife.”

Emilie Parker, 6

She could “light up a room,” Emilie’s father said about his oldest daughter.

Robbie Parker described her as “bright, creative and very loving.” Emilie was always willing to try new things, he said, except food. Her laugh was infectious.

“My daughter Emilie would be one of the first ones to be standing up and giving her love and support to all of those victims, because that is the type of person she is,” Parker said.

She was “an exceptional artist, and she always carried around her markers and pencils so she never missed an opportunity to draw a picture or make a card for someone,” he said.

“This world is a better place because she has been in it,” Parker said.

Emilie’s aunt described her niece as the “sweetest little girl I’ve ever known.”

The family is devastated that “someone so beautiful and perfect is no longer going to be in our lives and for no reason,” said Jill Cottle Garrett.

Emilie’s father, who works as a physician assistant in the newborn unit at the Danbury hospital, recalled his last conversation with his daughter was in Portuguese, a language he was teaching her.

“She said that she loved me, and I gave her a kiss, and I was out the door,” he said.

Jack Pinto, 6

Jack was a first-grader, and his interests ran the gamut — baseball, basketball, wrestling, snow skiing. But his first love was football, and his idol was Victor Cruz, then the New York Giants star receiver.

Cruz paid tribute to the team’s young fan by scribbling “Jack Pinto. My Hero” on one of his cleats and “R.I.P. Jack Pinto” on the other for the team’s game with the Atlanta Falcons the Sunday after the shooting. On his glove, Cruz wrote, “Jack Pinto. This one is 4 U!”

Jack participated in his first wrestling match not long before his death and won a medal, according to the president of the New Milford Wrestling Association.

“In life and in death, Jack will forever be remembered for the immeasurable joy he brought to all who had the pleasure of knowing him, a joy whose wide reach belied his six short years,” Jack’s family wrote in an obituary for the little boy.

Noah Pozner, 6

“He had a huge heart, and he was so much fun, a little bit rambunctious, lots of spirit,” Noah’s aunt told CNN. “He was really the light of the room.”

Victoria Haller said her nephew loved playing with his cousins and siblings, especially his twin sister.

“He was a gorgeous, gorgeous boy, and he could really get what he wanted just by batting those long eyelashes and looking at you with those big blue eyes. You really couldn’t say no to him,” she said.

His siblings weren’t told immediately how Noah passed away, Haller said.

“How do you tell them that’s how their brother died?” she asked. “It’s the unthinkable really.”

Caroline Previdi, 6

“You were a sweet little girl and you will be missed.”

That’s the message that Caroline’s aunt reportedly tweeted, saying good-bye to her niece, according to the online version of the Press-Telegram in Long Beach, California.

“It hurts even more to see a familiar name on that list,” the report said Paige Tremblay also tweeted.

A Facebook page called “RIP Caroline Previdi — Sandy Hook Massacre Victim” contains dozens of messages. One reads: “Rest in Peace, sweetheart. I know for sure that God is with you and all the other sweet little angels. I feel so very sorry for all these families who lost their precious kids, my heart goes out to all of you.”

Jessica Rekos, 6

Jessica loved everything about horses — horse movies, horse books, drawing horses and writing stories about them.

She asked Santa this year for new cowgirl boots and a cowgirl hat. Her family had promised she could get her own horse when she turned 10.

“She was a creative, beautiful little girl,” her family said in a statement, describing Jessica as their “rock.”

“She had an answer for everything, she didn’t miss a trick, and she outsmarted us every time. We called her our little CEO for the way she carefully thought out and planned everything,” they said. “We cannot imagine our life without her.”

Jessica also loved orca whales and playing with her two little brothers.

“We are mourning her loss, sharing our beautiful memories we have of her, and trying to help her brother Travis understand why he can’t play with his best friend,” her family said.

Avielle Richman, 6

Avielle was happiest when she was on a horse.

Her trainer, Annette Sullivan, told the Connecticut Post that Avielle would “giggle when she trotted.”

Like kids her age, her first loose tooth was a sign she was growing up.

“She showed me her wiggly tooth, she was so excited,” Sullivan told the newspaper. “She was the most delightful little girl you ever met in your life.”

Lauren Rousseau, 30

Rousseau, a permanent substitute teacher at Sandy Hook Elementary, “wanted to be a teacher from before she even went to kindergarten,” her mother said in a written statement. “We will miss her terribly and will take comfort knowing that she had achieved that dream,” Teresa Rousseau said.

She grew up in Danbury, Connecticut, and earned a bachelor’s degree from the University of Connecticut and a master’s degree in elementary education from the University of Bridgeport.

Rousseau “worked as a substitute teacher in Danbury, New Milford and Newtown before she was hired in November as a permanent substitute teacher at Sandy Hook,” her mother said.

Mary Sherlach, 56

Sherlach, Sandy Hook Elementary’s school psychologist, was with Hochsprung when they heard a “pop, pop, pop” sound around 9:30 a.m., a parent who was with both women at the time told CNN. Sherlach was shot to death after heading into the hall to find out what was happening.

“I … am always ready to assist in problem-solving, intervention and prevention,” Sherlach wrote on her website.

Sherlach earned her undergraduate degree in psychology at SUNY Cortland and a master’s degree at Southern Connecticut State University. She worked as a rehabilitation assistant at a group home for disabled adults and as a community mental health placement specialist before becoming a school psychologist.

She worked in three Connecticut school systems before moving to Sandy Hook Elementary in 1994. During her time in Newtown, Sherlach kept busy as a member of numerous groups, including the district conflict resolution committee, safe school climate committee, crisis intervention team and student instructional team.

Sherlach and her husband of more than three decades lived in Trumbull, Connecticut, and, together, they were “proud parents” of two daughters in their late 20s. Her website listed her interests as gardening, reading and going to the theater.

Victoria Soto, 27

Soto, a first-grade teacher at Sandy Hook Elementary, moved her students away from the classroom door when she heard gunfire, which students initially “thought were hammers falling,” according to the father of one of her students.

“That’s when the gunman burst in, did not say a word, no facial expressions, and proceeded to shoot their teacher,” said Robert Licata, whose 6-year-old son, Aiden, escaped by running past the shooter.

Soto’s mother said her daughter was selfless.

“She would not hesitate to think to save anyone else before herself, and especially children. She loved them more than life, and she would definitely put herself in front of them any day,” Donna Soto told CNN.

Soto had wanted to be a teacher since she was 3 and talked about her students with “such fondness and caring,” her mother said.

Soto’s cousin, James Wiltsie, said Soto “instinctively went into action, when a monster came into her classroom, and tried to protect the kids that she loved so much.”

“We just want the public to know that Vicki was a hero,” he said.

Soto had a dog she loved. The black lab Roxie spent Saturday wandering around Soto’s apartment, apparently looking for her, relatives said.

Benjamin Wheeler, 6

Ben loved The Beatles, lighthouses and the No. 7 train to Sunnyside, Queens, his family said in a statement.

He and his older brother Nate “filled the house with the noise of four children.”

“Ben Wheeler was an irrepressibly bright and spirited boy whose love of fun and excitement at the wonders of life and the world could rarely be contained. His rush to experience life was headlong, creative and immediate,” his family said.

Ben loved soccer and swimming. Recently, he performed at a piano recital — a major feat for a little boy who rarely sat still.

Friday morning before school, he told him mom: “I still want to be an architect, but I also want to be a paleontologist, because that’s what Nate is going to be, and I want to do everything Nate does.”

Ben, Nate, and their parents, Francine and David Wheeler, moved to Newtown in 2007. Francine Wheeler is a music teacher and performer. David Wheeler is an illustrator and designer.

Two days after the shooting, Francine Wheeler’s band posted the following message on its Facebook page:

“With heavy hearts, we inform you of our saddest news: Francine Wheeler, a founding member of The Dream Jam Band, has lost her precious 6-year old son, Ben, to the tragedy in Newtown, Connecticut. Our prayers and love go out to Francine, David and Ben’s big brother, Nate.”

Allison Wyatt, 6

Allison once offered her snacks to a stranger on plane. That’s just the type of person she was.

Allison was a “sweet, creative, funny, intelligent little girl who had an amazing life ahead of her,” her parents said.

They described their daughter as kind-hearted. She loved to draw and wanted to be an artist.

“She loved to laugh and was developing her own wonderful sense of humor that ranged from just being a silly 6-year-old to coming up with observations that more than once had us crying with laughter,” her parents said.

“Allison made the world a better place for six, far too short years, and we now have to figure out how to move on without her … We love and miss her so much.”

Read more: http://ift.tt/2Chrrh4

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5 years after Sandy Hook, the victims have not been forgotten

It remains among America’s most heinous nightmares: the lives of 20 little children — dancers and swimmers, pianists and painters, budding readers, little sisters and big brothers — extinguished in a flash of violence inside Sandy Hook Elementary.

Taken with them on that chilly Friday in December — just 11 days before Christmas — were six adults felled by the same gunman as they refused to abandon their sacred trust to safeguard the smallest among them.

The 20 children and six adults killed five years ago at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut will be remembered, always. Here's a glimpse of what was lost. https://t.co/PHTWkka5u5 pic.twitter.com/MGsNImCKSq

— CNN (@CNN) December 14, 2017

https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js

Five years later, even those who have never set foot near Newtown, Connecticut, can conjure the scene painted by police of a first-grade classroom transformed into a killing field. Can see the faces of anguished parents desperate for proof of life, then later, tiny caskets overloaded with stuffed animals never to be named.

Since the 2012 massacre, a new school has been built for the students of a town known, now and for years to come, as a cradle of sorrow — but also as the home of quiet resilience and untold love.

The 12 girls, eight boys and six women whose futures were stolen that day will be remembered, always. Here is a glimpse of what we learned about them in the days after they were taken:

Charlotte Bacon, 6

Charlotte was sweet, outgoing and full of energy, her grandmother told CNN affiliate WCCO in Minnesota.

“This is tough. This is surreal. You can’t believe this could happen,” Irene Hagen told the station. “The whole family is just devastated, and we’re all trying to come to terms with it.”

She said her granddaughter loved school and dresses. Her hair was a mass of beautiful red curls.

“It’s horrible. It’s really horrible,” Hagen told WCCO. “It’s hard to believe that someone would kill children, innocent children.”

Daniel Barden, 7

Daniel earned his missing two front teeth, his family used to say. His “fearless” pursuit of happiness and life also earned him ripped jeans.

“Despite that, he was, as his mother said, ‘Just So Good,’” his family wrote in a statement published in the New Haven Register.

Taking after his musician dad, he and his siblings — brother James and sister Natalie — formed a band. Daniel played drums.

He loved to ride waves at the beach and make s’mores around bonfires with his cousins.

“He embodied everything that is wholesome and innocent in the world,” the family said.

Rachel D’Avino, 29

She probably didn’t know it when she died, but her best friend was about to propose.

He had recently asked D’Avino’s parents for their blessing, and he was planning to ask for her hand in marriage on Christmas Eve.

That and other details about D’Avino’s life were described in an obituary posted on the website of Munson-Lovetere Funeral Homes of Connecticut.

“Her presence and tremendous smile brightened any room she entered,” it read.

Born in Waterbury, D’Avino received her undergraduate degree from the University of Hartford and her master’s from Post University. She was working toward her doctorate at the University of St. Joseph of Hartford.

D’Avino loved karate, cooking, animals, photography and her two younger siblings.

“Her passion, however, was her occupation as a behavioral therapist working with children within the autism spectrum,” the obituary read.

Olivia Engel, 6

Her favorite stuffed animal was a lamb; pink and purple were her favorite colors.

Olivia’s family posted a statement on Facebook with those and other details about their beloved daughter.

“She was insightful for her age and had a great sense of humor. She laughed a lot and always lit up a room including the people around her. She was very creative and was always drawing and designing things,” her family said.

Olivia took art and dance lessons, played tennis, soccer and swam. She was involved in Girl Scouts and musical theater. She loved school and did well in math and reading.

Her family described her as a “grateful child … never greedy.” Each night, Olivia led grace at the dinner table.

Josephine Gay, 7

Josephine celebrated her seventh birthday just days before she died. In one picture, published in various news stories, she’s smiling with glasses on the tip of her nose.

Josephine liked to ride her bike and sell lemonade in her neighborhood in the summer, The Wall Street Journal reported. The little girl loved the color purple.

Dylan Hockley, 6

Dylan and his family had moved from England to Connecticut two years before he died.

“We specifically chose Sandy Hook for the community and the elementary school. We do not and shall never regret this choice,” Dylan’s family said in a statement. “Our boys have flourished here, and our family’s happiness has been limitless.”

Dylan’s family said he loved to cuddle and play tag with neighbors at the bus stop every morning.

“He was learning to read and was so proud when he read us a new book every day,” the family said. “He adored his big brother Jake, his best friend and role model.”

Dylan’s parents also expressed gratitude to the educators who died with their son.

“We cannot speak highly enough of Dawn Hochsprung and Mary Sherlach, exceptional women who knew both our children,” the family said. “Dylan’s teacher, Vicki Soto, was warm and funny and Dylan loved her dearly. We take great comfort in knowing that Dylan was not alone when he died, but was wrapped in the arms of his amazing aide, Anne Marie Murphy. Dylan loved Mrs. Murphy so much and pointed at her picture on our refrigerator every day.

“Though our hearts break for Dylan, they are also filled with love for these and the other beautiful women who all selflessly died trying to save our children.”

Dawn Lafferty Hochsprung, 47

Hochsprung, who became Sandy Hook Elementary’s principal two years before the shooting, was “really nice and very fun, but she was also very much a tough lady in the right sort of sense,” friend Tom Prunty said.

And the students loved her. “Even little kids know when someone cares about them, and that was her,” he said.

“I never saw her without a smile,” said Aimee Seaver, the mother of a first-grader.

Hochsprung lived in Woodbury, Connecticut, with her husband, two daughters and three stepdaughters.

The career educator majored in special education for her bachelor’s and master’s degrees in the 1990s and had just entered the PhD program at Esteves School of Education at the Sage Colleges in New York. Hochsprung led a school district’s strategic planning panel and was the recipient of a national school grant.

Her accomplishments included overseeing the installation of a new security system requiring every visitor to ring the front entrance’s doorbell after the school doors locked at 9:30 a.m.

“My mom, Dawn Hochsprung, was taken tragically from me. But she went down in a blaze of glory that truly represents who she was,” her daughter, Cristina Hassinger, tweeted.

Madeleine Hsu, 6

Sweet. Unique. Bright. Determined. Sparking.

Those are words Madeleine’s family used to describe their little girl.

“She was an avid reader who loved running and dancing,” they said. “She was a born leader.”

Catherine Hubbard, 6

The little girl with bright red hair will be remembered for her smile and her love of animals.

Catherine is survived by her older brother, her parents, grandparents, great-grandmother, uncles, aunts and nine cousins.

“Her family prays that she, all the students of Sandy Hook Elementary, and all those affected by this brutal event find peace in their hearts,” they wrote in her obituary.

A Facebook page honoring Catherine spoke of how she is now an angel.

“Such a beautiful little soul,” the post read, saying the family’s loss is heaven’s gain.

Chase Kowalski, 7

What Chase really wanted for Christmas was his two front teeth.

“I saw him two days ago, and I asked him if he wanted to see Santa, and he told me that he wanted his teeth back, and it was really sweet,” Chase’s neighbor, Keeley Baumann, 13, told the News-Times newspaper.

At 6, Chase completed his first triathlon, but that was just one of his pursuits. He loved baseball. He was in the Cub Scouts. He looked forward to the kids’ workshop at the local Home Depot.

“We are thankful to the Lord for giving us seven years with our beautiful loving son. It is with heavy hearts that we return him,” the family said in an obituary.

Jesse Lewis, 6

Jesse loved math, riding horses and playing at his mom’s farm, his father told the New York Post.

“He was just a happy boy,” Neil Heslin said. “Everybody knew Jesse.”

He told the newspaper that his son was planning to make gingerbread houses at school. Heslin was planning to help.

Instead, the last time he saw his son was when he dropped him off at school at 9 a.m.

“He was going to go places in life,” Heslin told the Post.

Ana Marquez-Greene, 6

“One, two, three, ready and go,” Ana counts down in a homemade video provided to CNN affiliate WTIC.

The girl in pigtails stands in front of a piano as her brother plays. Her voice is clear, bigger than her size. Ana smiles and waves.

Her father, Jimmy Greene, is a jazz musician. His representative released a statement on Ana’s death, describing the little girl as “beautiful and vibrant.”

“The family has requested privacy at this time of heartbreaking loss,” it read. They “have asked us to relay their sincere gratitude for the outpouring of support and sympathy locally, nationally and internationally.”

James Mattioli, 6

As he was quick to remind everyone, James was 6 and ¾.

“He loved to wear shorts and T-shirts in any weather and grab the gel to spike his hair,” his family said in a loving obituary. “He would often sing at the top of his lungs, and once asked, ‘How old do I have to be to sing on a stage?’”

Indoors, he spent his time playing games on the iPad — especially the lawn-mowing one. Outdoors, he loved to dive off the diving board, “swim like a fish” in his grandfather’s pool and ride his bike — without training wheels.

“I need to go outside, Mom. I need fresh air,” he would often say.

He was born four weeks early — because he was hungry, his family joked.

James had a voracious appetite. His favorites? His dad’s egg omelets with bacon, and his mom’s French toast.

He looked up to his older sister, wanting to do everything she could.

“They were the best of friends, going to school together, playing games together, and making endless drawings and crafts together.”

The boy, whose family fondly called him “J,” will be incredibly missed, they said.

Grace McDonnell, 7

Grace was the “light and love of our family,” her mother told CNN.

She loved her brother, school, the beach and wanted to be a painter.

For her seventh birthday in November, Grace requested a purple cake with a turquoise peace sign and polka dots. And that’s exactly what she got.

“She was all about peace and gentleness and kindness,” Lynn McDonnell told CNN’s Anderson Cooper. “Grace didn’t have an ounce of hate in her, and so we have to live through Grace and realize that hate is not how our family is.”

The family drew cupcakes, ice creams cones, lighthouses and seagulls — all things Grace loved — on her tiny white casket.

Anne Marie Murphy, 52

A hero. That’s how a first responder reportedly described Murphy to her father.

He told Newsday that authorities told him her body was found in a classroom, covering young children killed in the shooting in an apparent attempt to shield them.

“She died doing what she loved. She was serving children and serving God,” Murphy’s mother, Alice McGowan, told the newspaper.

A married mother of four, Murphy was artistic and hardworking, her parents said.

“She was a happy soul,” her mother told Newsday. “She was a very good daughter, a good mother, a good wife.”

Emilie Parker, 6

She could “light up a room,” Emilie’s father said about his oldest daughter.

Robbie Parker described her as “bright, creative and very loving.” Emilie was always willing to try new things, he said, except food. Her laugh was infectious.

“My daughter Emilie would be one of the first ones to be standing up and giving her love and support to all of those victims, because that is the type of person she is,” Parker said.

She was “an exceptional artist, and she always carried around her markers and pencils so she never missed an opportunity to draw a picture or make a card for someone,” he said.

“This world is a better place because she has been in it,” Parker said.

Emilie’s aunt described her niece as the “sweetest little girl I’ve ever known.”

The family is devastated that “someone so beautiful and perfect is no longer going to be in our lives and for no reason,” said Jill Cottle Garrett.

Emilie’s father, who works as a physician assistant in the newborn unit at the Danbury hospital, recalled his last conversation with his daughter was in Portuguese, a language he was teaching her.

“She said that she loved me, and I gave her a kiss, and I was out the door,” he said.

Jack Pinto, 6

Jack was a first-grader, and his interests ran the gamut — baseball, basketball, wrestling, snow skiing. But his first love was football, and his idol was Victor Cruz, then the New York Giants star receiver.

Cruz paid tribute to the team’s young fan by scribbling “Jack Pinto. My Hero” on one of his cleats and “R.I.P. Jack Pinto” on the other for the team’s game with the Atlanta Falcons the Sunday after the shooting. On his glove, Cruz wrote, “Jack Pinto. This one is 4 U!”

Jack participated in his first wrestling match not long before his death and won a medal, according to the president of the New Milford Wrestling Association.

“In life and in death, Jack will forever be remembered for the immeasurable joy he brought to all who had the pleasure of knowing him, a joy whose wide reach belied his six short years,” Jack’s family wrote in an obituary for the little boy.

Noah Pozner, 6

“He had a huge heart, and he was so much fun, a little bit rambunctious, lots of spirit,” Noah’s aunt told CNN. “He was really the light of the room.”

Victoria Haller said her nephew loved playing with his cousins and siblings, especially his twin sister.

“He was a gorgeous, gorgeous boy, and he could really get what he wanted just by batting those long eyelashes and looking at you with those big blue eyes. You really couldn’t say no to him,” she said.

His siblings weren’t told immediately how Noah passed away, Haller said.

“How do you tell them that’s how their brother died?” she asked. “It’s the unthinkable really.”

Caroline Previdi, 6

“You were a sweet little girl and you will be missed.”

That’s the message that Caroline’s aunt reportedly tweeted, saying good-bye to her niece, according to the online version of the Press-Telegram in Long Beach, California.

“It hurts even more to see a familiar name on that list,” the report said Paige Tremblay also tweeted.

A Facebook page called “RIP Caroline Previdi — Sandy Hook Massacre Victim” contains dozens of messages. One reads: “Rest in Peace, sweetheart. I know for sure that God is with you and all the other sweet little angels. I feel so very sorry for all these families who lost their precious kids, my heart goes out to all of you.”

Jessica Rekos, 6

Jessica loved everything about horses — horse movies, horse books, drawing horses and writing stories about them.

She asked Santa this year for new cowgirl boots and a cowgirl hat. Her family had promised she could get her own horse when she turned 10.

“She was a creative, beautiful little girl,” her family said in a statement, describing Jessica as their “rock.”

“She had an answer for everything, she didn’t miss a trick, and she outsmarted us every time. We called her our little CEO for the way she carefully thought out and planned everything,” they said. “We cannot imagine our life without her.”

Jessica also loved orca whales and playing with her two little brothers.

“We are mourning her loss, sharing our beautiful memories we have of her, and trying to help her brother Travis understand why he can’t play with his best friend,” her family said.

Avielle Richman, 6

Avielle was happiest when she was on a horse.

Her trainer, Annette Sullivan, told the Connecticut Post that Avielle would “giggle when she trotted.”

Like kids her age, her first loose tooth was a sign she was growing up.

“She showed me her wiggly tooth, she was so excited,” Sullivan told the newspaper. “She was the most delightful little girl you ever met in your life.”

Lauren Rousseau, 30

Rousseau, a permanent substitute teacher at Sandy Hook Elementary, “wanted to be a teacher from before she even went to kindergarten,” her mother said in a written statement. “We will miss her terribly and will take comfort knowing that she had achieved that dream,” Teresa Rousseau said.

She grew up in Danbury, Connecticut, and earned a bachelor’s degree from the University of Connecticut and a master’s degree in elementary education from the University of Bridgeport.

Rousseau “worked as a substitute teacher in Danbury, New Milford and Newtown before she was hired in November as a permanent substitute teacher at Sandy Hook,” her mother said.

Mary Sherlach, 56

Sherlach, Sandy Hook Elementary’s school psychologist, was with Hochsprung when they heard a “pop, pop, pop” sound around 9:30 a.m., a parent who was with both women at the time told CNN. Sherlach was shot to death after heading into the hall to find out what was happening.

“I … am always ready to assist in problem-solving, intervention and prevention,” Sherlach wrote on her website.

Sherlach earned her undergraduate degree in psychology at SUNY Cortland and a master’s degree at Southern Connecticut State University. She worked as a rehabilitation assistant at a group home for disabled adults and as a community mental health placement specialist before becoming a school psychologist.

She worked in three Connecticut school systems before moving to Sandy Hook Elementary in 1994. During her time in Newtown, Sherlach kept busy as a member of numerous groups, including the district conflict resolution committee, safe school climate committee, crisis intervention team and student instructional team.

Sherlach and her husband of more than three decades lived in Trumbull, Connecticut, and, together, they were “proud parents” of two daughters in their late 20s. Her website listed her interests as gardening, reading and going to the theater.

Victoria Soto, 27

Soto, a first-grade teacher at Sandy Hook Elementary, moved her students away from the classroom door when she heard gunfire, which students initially “thought were hammers falling,” according to the father of one of her students.

“That’s when the gunman burst in, did not say a word, no facial expressions, and proceeded to shoot their teacher,” said Robert Licata, whose 6-year-old son, Aiden, escaped by running past the shooter.

Soto’s mother said her daughter was selfless.

“She would not hesitate to think to save anyone else before herself, and especially children. She loved them more than life, and she would definitely put herself in front of them any day,” Donna Soto told CNN.

Soto had wanted to be a teacher since she was 3 and talked about her students with “such fondness and caring,” her mother said.

Soto’s cousin, James Wiltsie, said Soto “instinctively went into action, when a monster came into her classroom, and tried to protect the kids that she loved so much.”

“We just want the public to know that Vicki was a hero,” he said.

Soto had a dog she loved. The black lab Roxie spent Saturday wandering around Soto’s apartment, apparently looking for her, relatives said.

Benjamin Wheeler, 6

Ben loved The Beatles, lighthouses and the No. 7 train to Sunnyside, Queens, his family said in a statement.

He and his older brother Nate “filled the house with the noise of four children.”

“Ben Wheeler was an irrepressibly bright and spirited boy whose love of fun and excitement at the wonders of life and the world could rarely be contained. His rush to experience life was headlong, creative and immediate,” his family said.

Ben loved soccer and swimming. Recently, he performed at a piano recital — a major feat for a little boy who rarely sat still.

Friday morning before school, he told him mom: “I still want to be an architect, but I also want to be a paleontologist, because that’s what Nate is going to be, and I want to do everything Nate does.”

Ben, Nate, and their parents, Francine and David Wheeler, moved to Newtown in 2007. Francine Wheeler is a music teacher and performer. David Wheeler is an illustrator and designer.

Two days after the shooting, Francine Wheeler’s band posted the following message on its Facebook page:

“With heavy hearts, we inform you of our saddest news: Francine Wheeler, a founding member of The Dream Jam Band, has lost her precious 6-year old son, Ben, to the tragedy in Newtown, Connecticut. Our prayers and love go out to Francine, David and Ben’s big brother, Nate.”

Allison Wyatt, 6

Allison once offered her snacks to a stranger on plane. That’s just the type of person she was.

Allison was a “sweet, creative, funny, intelligent little girl who had an amazing life ahead of her,” her parents said.

They described their daughter as kind-hearted. She loved to draw and wanted to be an artist.

“She loved to laugh and was developing her own wonderful sense of humor that ranged from just being a silly 6-year-old to coming up with observations that more than once had us crying with laughter,” her parents said.

“Allison made the world a better place for six, far too short years, and we now have to figure out how to move on without her … We love and miss her so much.”

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports http://fox4kc.com/2017/12/14/5-years-after-sandy-hook-the-victims-have-not-been-forgotten/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2017/12/14/5-years-after-sandy-hook-the-victims-have-not-been-forgotten/

[zoesfinalportfolio-blog]

Literacy and How It Made Me

When I think about being literate, I think about being able to write, read, and process what you have read. While I cannot remember the time or age I became my definition of literate, I can remember loving to read as a kid. I would read anything such as; books, street signs, and when I was old enough, novels. Some of my favorite readings that I can remember throughout my life are Green Eggs and Ham by Dr. Seuss, the Twilight series by Stephanie Meyer, the American Chillers series by Johnathan Rand, 1984 by George Orwell, and Animal Farm also by George Orwell. These books are all books that helped me gain my literacy. While books are a huge part of literacy, my high school papers are also what helped to develop my literacy.

I remember reading Green Eggs and Ham to my little sister Makenzy, me being age seven. We were at her mother’s trailer, in the living room, Dora the Explorer was on the television. Makenzy was bored of watching Dora so she asked me to read a book to her. Of course, she had chosen my favorite book. I loved Dr. Seuss books, but my favorite was Green Eggs and Ham. I read it all the time. I would read it by myself silently, to all three of my little sisters, or just out loud to no one. I believe the biggest reason I loved that book so much was because I identified with Sam. I identified with Sam mostly because I always would try to talk to my dad, but he would just shoo me away to play his video games or to watch football. I did not think of my life in that way as a child, but I grew to understand.

At the age of nine, my mom brought me over to my grandma Nancy’s house. She had just bought the movie Twilight and was watching it for the first time. I started watching it with her and instantly fell in love with it. My grandma proceeded to tell me that there was a whole series behind Twilight. I knew at that moment that I must buy the next book and read it before the movie came out. That week my mom took me to Meijer so I could buy New Moon (the second book in the Twilight series) with my money from Christmas. I read it everywhere I went. I only ever put the book down to shower and sleep. I was a nine-year-old fourth grader reading a book meant for seventh graders. I was very proud of myself at the time. Of course, there were some things I did not understand, like the sexual aspect of the book, but I grasped the concept of it. My grandma bought me the next two books in the series, Eclipse and Breaking Dawn. We were both reading the books so it ultimately became our thing. We became, what us Twilight fans called ourselves, Twihards. When the movies would come out in the theater she would take me to the opening night to watch them. We also would stay up all night to go to the release parties at Wal-Mart for the movies. My grandma and I would have constant discussions about the books. It all played a huge part in my literacy today and I have my late grandmother to thank for that.

In fifth and sixth grade, I enjoyed scary stories. I particularly liked the American Chillers books written by Johnathan Rand. I first learned about these books when Johnathan Rand personally came to my school. He was there for a book signing, but he also read to us, a chapter from one of his books. That same day I checked out a book from the series at the school’s library. It was Minnesota Mall Mannequins. It became my favorite book and I read it multiple times. It was about kids that went to a mall in Minnesota after hours and all the mannequins came alive. Because I was a child I was honestly really scared because of the book. The American Chiller books opened a whole new world for me and showed me my love for being scared. I love to watch scary movies and stories. I particularly love to read stories from a page called Creepy Pasta on Facebook. American Chiller books really paved a way the scary side of my literacy because I still love to read scary stories.

Senior year was the year I really decided that I do not like to read anymore. We were assigned two books by George Orwell. One was titled 1984 and the other was Animal Farm. 1984 was about a man who wanted to rebel against his totalitarian society and in the end, he was brainwashed into believing he loved his country. While reading this book, I say reading loosely, I decided reading was just a bore to me. I could not stand reading that story. The words rattled my brain and I always ended up falling asleep. Later in the year, we read Animal Farm, while I still could not stand to read, it was much more interesting. I actually read the book thoroughly instead of reading only a page per chapter like I did for 1984. After the class finished the book we watched the movie version. The movie made me fall asleep more than the book, it was just awful. That goes to show sometimes movies are not better to a visual learner. I believe these books really proved to me that I am not a very enthusiastic reader, which plays a role in my literacy.

I wrote a lot of papers in my high school years. Some of my more memorable papers were from my senior year. During my senior year we wrote a lot of research based papers, so not only did I have to write, I also had to read. That tested my literacy to a huge extent because I had to understand what I was reading and put it all into my own words for the paper. One paper that especially sticks out in my mind, from my senior year English class, was the paper I wrote about wind turbines and why they are better than using gasoline for our energy source. It was undoubtedly the hardest paper I have ever written because I did not know much about wind turbines so I really had to research a lot about them. This all ties in to how these papers truly helped to develop my literacy because I now realize how much I enjoy writing when given a prompt. I especially enjoy proof reading papers and being able to fix mistakes and even re-writing sentences.

Through my lifetime many things have helped to develop my literacy skills. I believe everything I have read, wrote or have been through in life have made me the person I am today. I have a love for writing due to the papers I have written for classes in high school, but I have lost the love for reading that I once had as a child. Although I do not write papers on my free time or without a prompt, I truly enjoy writing for classes like this one. The books that I have read in my life, especially the ones not assigned for a class, have showed me who I am as a person. For example, the book Twilight created a bond between me and my late grandma that could never be replaced. I would not do anything in my life differently and I appreciate everything that made me who I am as a literate person.

[thelazypenph]

This story is about my journey during the 2016 Bar Examinations. I am sharing this because I wish to inspire those who have given up on their dreams to keep dreaming, those who doubt themselves to start building their confidence again, and those who feel lost to keep praying.

The Bar Exams.

The Bar Exams, as they say, is the toughest examination in the country. It takes a minimum of six months to review, after at least four years in law school, and six months more to wait for the results to be released. The Bar is in essay format that is why the examination booklets cannot just be inserted in a machine for checking and the examiners have to painstakingly check the booklets and read through thousands of answers.

The result of the 2016 Bar Examinations was released on 3 May 2017.

I was one of the 6,344 examinees who took the Bar Exams during the four Sundays of November 2016 at the University of Sto. Tomas. And now I am one of the 3,747 who successfully passed it.

I know that every bar candidate has his/her own story to tell and now that the results are out, every bar passer is surely very eager to tell their story. Yes, I am eager to share my journey. This is quite a long blogpost but I hope that I would be able to keep your interest and attention while reading through it.

The earlier part of my journey.

My story may be considered as just ordinary like most stories you hear but I can say that only in some ways because I would consider it as different in more ways. It’s only been a week (as of this writing) since I found out about the result and I already have posted so many status updates in my social media account since then. I decided to share my story as I have long been wanting to write about it since the day I have fully decided to take the exams.

This is not my first take. I took the Bar in 2007 right after graduating from law school, and failed, then took it again the following year, 2008. Obviously, I failed again.

After failing the Bar exams in 2008, I still had the thought of taking the exams playing in my mind for about two or three years but I just shrugged it off. Until I just almost forgot that I have a law degree, albeit relatives and friends occasionally asking me when will I take it again.

By the time I wrote my blogpost “Have you been chasing the wrong dream?”, I was already convinced that the legal profession is not part of my destiny. It was simply not meant to happen. Why? I have bigger responsibilities than before, I now have two sons, Kyle, a 17-year-old Philippine Science High School scholar who was only 8 years old when I last took the exams and Kurt, a 7-year-old second grader in one of the private schools here in Quezon City. I felt that I have wasted my time chasing the title Attorney that I almost forgot that I have a family with whom I should be enjoying my life with.

Flashback to 2007 and 2008.

As I’ve said, you may find my story as just ordinary. Yes, my story is just the usual story you hear from a bar examinee based on my first two takes in 2007 and 2008. This is because I did what I was told in Law school, by friends, by supporters, and by my law professors.

When I took the Bar in 2007, I was in our province, working with the city government, with a good job and a relatively quiet life. I moved to the city during the review and the exams, and later went back home, full of hope that I will be a lawyer the following year.

When I took the Bar in 2008, I just started working in a national government agency in Manila and trying to adjust with city life. I stayed in a dormitory for female students near UST and left my mother, husband and son in the province.

In both takes, I isolated myself from my family and friends, spent sleepless nights studying, bought all the books and reviewers I needed, or I thought I needed, got myself all the reviewers I can take hold of even if I can’t even read them anymore, spent hours and hours studying, averaging 12-16 hours of reading a day.

I spent less time with my family, and friends. I always felt guilty whenever I went to the mall or anywhere away from my study table. I felt guilty everytime I wasn’t holding a reviewer. Why? Because that was what I was told. They said that when you are reviewing for the Bar, your family’s world should revolve around you. You are the center of their attention, affection and what have you.  They said that you should not be bothered by anyone because you don’t need the unnecessary stress. I followed everything I heard, I was selfish. As a result, I lost a few friends, I earned the ire of some relatives; in short, it resulted to broken relationships with some of the people around me. Then I failed.

Life happened.

After failing on my second try, that’s when real life happened. Between April 2009, when the results of the 2008 Bar exams was released and today, I learned the best lessons in life. I understood what life is all about and realized that I am an adult.

Kurt was born in November 2009 and with the newest member of our family, I knew I couldn’t afford to take the Bar anytime soon. I guess I also used it as an excuse not to take it again because I couldn’t take the pressure from people who are expecting and waiting, if I can and will be a lawyer.

I continued working, gaining more friends, and experience.

As life in the city continued to unfold, my sons were left in the province for a few more years while my husband and I worked here in the city. Gradually we were able to adjust and we kept praying for the day when our mom and kids finally can move to the city. Our prayers were first answered in 2012 when Kyle started school at Pisay as a seventh grader and in 2014, when my mother and Kurt permanently moved here.

It’s been nine years since 2008 and we felt like we have lived in Quezon City most of our lives.

Bar Exam 2015.

Fast forward to 2015. By this time, I was already an Operations Supervisor working with Legal Editors who are also Law graduates. One of my teammates, and a friend, Bert, in one of our meetings mentioned about how he strongly believes that being a lawyer is destiny. If it’s your time, as long as you give all your best, you will become a lawyer. He also shared the success stories of some of his friends who are now lawyers. At that time, I was in one of my many career lows. I wasn’t very happy with my work and felt that I needed to do something that will give me better opportunities, a reason to leave my current job.

Don’t get me wrong, the company I work for is a good one. I can say that it’s one of the best. But just like other offices, there are intrigues, rumors, and all sorts of negativities. It’s not the company, it’s the people. I have been a victim of rumors and intrigues (of course they think that they are the victims). I was misunderstood, I was a favorite topic during lunchbreaks, in Facebook posts, and wherever and whenever these rumormongers have an opportunity to talk about how bad a person I am. In their eyes, I am the worst person alive.  I did not confront them nor did I fight back. I lost career opportunities because of them and I knew that some people talk about me because of what they’ve heard. In short, people have judged me without knowing my side of the story. I never had the chance to explain my side and that is because, according to my leaders, if you’re a leader, you just have to take all the beatings. But that’s all water under the bridge now. Today,  I’m glad I took all the beatings.

Going back to that conversation with Bert, I consider him as the person who opened my eyes again and helped me realize that I should not stop pursuing my dream because as he said, we took up Law, therefore our goal should be to be a lawyer. Then another friend in the team, Joe, seconded Bert’s prodding.  They said that I am lucky because I have one more try left, so there is no reason why I shouldn’t take that last chance.

That’s when I decided to file my petition to take the 2015 Bar Exams. Friends who knew about my plan, found it funny. The more honest ones said it’s not a wise decision. I was already 75% convinced then that it was my time. But by some twist of fate, I was sent for a brief training in Australia and never got any chance to read a single Bar Exam review material. And on the first week of November, Kurt was confined in the hospital due to Dengue. These were clear signs that 2015 was not my year.

Early 2016.

I moved on easily and forgot about the Bar again. On the first day of the year, I decided to try blogging because I’ve always wanted to write, and I came up with my first entry for The Lazy Pen. I told myself, I will be a famous blogger by the end of 2016.

But when everyone’s all back in the office in January, for some reason, Bert and Joe would occasionally mention about the Bar and would joke about the fees I paid in 2015 which we could have spent for drinks after work or pizza maybe. They said that the only way I can get my money back is to take the exams. Since the fee paid for the petition in 2015 is non-refundable, they kept saying I should make good use of it by taking the Bar. Months passed and no thought crossed my mind about taking the exams despite them constantly talking about it.

The 2015 Bar results came out on 3 May 2016.  Mr. B, my then officemate, made it! He posted his photo in Facebook taken in UST on the last day of the Bar exams, with the caption, “Took this selfie after the last exam last November and I said to myself that this would be the last! #neveragain”. I thought that if and when I take the Bar again, I will do the same and wait for the day I can post it in my timeline too. His post and how he described his story inspired me but at that point, I still did not think about it seriously because I was planning to venture into shoe business and was busy going around Marikina to find a supplier.

Mid-May, I asked a friend abroad if she can partner with me in the shoe business I was planning to start and I guess she was not convinced with the proposal because she turned me down, which I know is for a good reason. She instead asked me if I have plans of taking the Bar again, and said she can help me if I need any support. Having that conversation with her, I thought that, yeah maybe it’s time.

The Plan.

Since I had very little time to catch up on reading whatever I missed for the past eight years, I decided to just take things as they are. I promised myself that I will NOT do any of the things I did in 2007 and 2008. I will give my best while living a normal life, nothing should change because it’s just an exam. I promised myself that I will not torture myself for the Bar (again) and will not take away any precious moment from my family just because I was reviewing. I will enjoy every moment of it. And I did.

I told my family the plan and that I will file my petition again, then decide later, hoping that by around August or September I can already assess myself, how far I need to catch up or how prepared I am by then.

I told my husband (to be less formal, let’s just call him Labs) and mother that I didn’t want any special treatment at home while reviewing; just let me be and let me have the same day to day routine, as if I wasn’t reviewing for the Bar. I knew that they were not convinced with my plan but they were supportive enough to just give in to my request.

I went to the office everyday and never spent a single minute to browse any reviewer because that would not be part of the “normal life” I planned and I did not want anyone to know about my plan except for my most trusted friends.

I made sure that I gave what is due to my employer. But the moment I stepped out of the office, I also made sure that I did not check any of the work emails I receive on my phone like I used to. Simply said, I did not make a big fuss about taking the exams.

Initially, the only people in the office who knew about my plan were Bert, Joe and Sarah, and another friend from the office who moved to Australia, Maan. They were supportive, very supportive, even if I can feel that they were also sort of scared or anxious for me. They kept pushing me to spend more time reviewing. Whenever I chat with them in Facebook, they would just say, keep studying, focus, you will be a lawyer. Whenever I leave the office late, Joe and Sarah would tell me to go home straight and review, review, review because I will be a lawyer.

The Review.

Since I needed to refresh my memory after the long lull, I thought that it would probably be best if I enrolled in an actual review class. I searched for Jurists Bar Review Center online because I remember someone told me a few years back that this center holds their review at FEU Morayta and their schedule is only on weekends. The schedule works for me since I am working, and so does the location since I am from Fairview, QC. Unfortunately, I was wrong. They moved to Madison Street across Broadway Centrum in Aurora Boulevard. I had second thoughts because I thought of how inconvenient the travel will be for me coming from Fairview as it will be 3 rides (transfers) from home.

Good news was, they offered a COMBO review, where you can go to the venue for live lecture or wait for them to upload it on their site so you can watch it wherever you are. I wasted no time, I enrolled.

But that was not the official start of my journey yet.

It’s been eight years since my last take, my brain and body needed a little adjusting. I haven’t held a book or a reviewer for eight straight years. I wasn’t used to writing anymore because almost everything at work was done through the computer. I needed to adjust my schedule, so I can fit in additional hours for review. I needed to clear my schedule on weekends, which meant giving up staying in bed for long hours, browsing Facebook and other social media apps for hours, movie marathons, going to the mall and all other stuff I had been used to doing for eight long years.  All the unnecessary activities, I needed to temporarily set aside.

I thought about it a lot, asked myself if it was a wise decision. Even if I was already enrolled, I was still half-hearted so I only told a few people outside of my immediate family about my plan.

Between May and August 2016, I was averaging 2 to 3 hours a day reading the handouts from Jurists and my codal.  One of the challenges I encountered was, I found out that most of my codals and reviewers were already outdated. But I only bought one reviewer each for Criminal Law, Civil Law and Labor, and new codals for the Labor Code and NIRC. The rest of my materials were all handouts from Jurists and my old codals.

There were days when I was exhausted from work that I just slept and did not review at all. I never forced myself to read when I’m tired, which was the total opposite of what I’ve done during my first two takes. This time, I made sure I had enough rest.

Months passed, I went to review class once a month, there was even a month I was not able to attend any. I just logged online, listened while having coffee at Starbucks after work or while on my commute to and from the office. Most of the time though, I slept while on my way home to fully recharge and be energized by the time I get home. Whenever something pops in my mind, I wrote down the topics and subjects I missed and pinned it on my board and promised to go back to them during the pre-week.

During the review period, I distanced myself from co-reviewees who were fond of discussing. I respect the way they manage stress but I felt that hearing more of their talks might affect my confidence. I was offered more review materials here and there, most I politely declined because I did not want to feel that I have read less than I should have. I was firm with my decision to just stick with my own materials.

The months I spent preparing were not without any problem. I had problems with finances, especially with our budget at home because going to the review, and Starbucks were of course additional expenses and all other bills and obligations. I had problems at work because there were tons that needed to be done, I had new team members and work streams and processes to learn. I also needed to attend weekend activities at work because they were mandatory. Everything was just overwhelming because it even came to a point where I was not able to read any reviewer or listen to or watch any of the recorded lectures from Jurists for three straight weeks because I was just too busy with all other stuff. There were so many things going on in my life at that time.

The Sign.

After the three-week “break” from review, I found myself trying to adjust again. One weekend, I went to three different coffee shops in our neighborhood just to get my momentum back. It was a Sunday, and it was raining so I decided to skip the review class. First, I went to Starbucks – FEU, it was crowded, then I transferred to Starbucks – The Rock, it was also crowded and my last stop was at Infinitea – Rolex Street. I just sat there, ordered the biggest size of wintermelon milktea, arranged the table and placed my review materials on top, took Instagramworthy photos, and posted them. I attempted to read and understand the materials I brought but couldn’t focus because I was thinking about how much time I have lost the past weeks and how big my deficit is on the coverage. I was both worried and scared.

Labs came by a few minutes before 5PM so we can attend the mass at Good Shepherd Cathedral. That’s when I told him, I am not taking the Bar anymore because I can’t catch up with the lost time anymore and I had difficulty trying to understand the review materials. I was in tears when I was trying to explain how I came up with the decision in just a matter of hours. He said he understood but we should talk about it when we get home after the mass.

During the mass, I prayed for guidance and a sign if I was right with my decision. And the sign was given. It was the sermon. Of all possible examples the priest can think of, he shared the story of his friend who failed the Bar exams the first time he took it and how he bounced back after all the tears and pain. He said that his friend went to him for advice after failing. The advice he gave was, “Be confident with the knowledge you already have, you have done your part reviewing, so leave everything to God. Do not focus on what you do not know, build your confidence with what you know, then pray that God will take care of the rest. Surrender the Bar exams to Him.”

I was crying after hearing these words. I felt like those words were for me. From that day on, I never worried about anything I missed and did not feel guilty if I was not able to follow my schedule. I just kept crossing dates off my calendar, excited to take the Bar. I surrendered everything completely to God. I prayed before sleeping and before getting up from bed, everyday, that He may guide me in this journey because I felt in my heart that I will pass the Bar this time. That thought never left my mind from that day on.

The Power of 3.

I drew inspiration and motivation, foremost from my family. They were as supportive as ever, they were my Bar Ops Team, so to speak. Even if they were all very excited to tell the world that I am like a dormant volcano that’s active again, they remained quiet about my journey. Kurt would excitedly talk about what he thinks may happen when I become a lawyer like buying a new big house and a car each for him and his brother. They, together with some friends were my sources of joy and inspiration.

Aside from them, I was also motivated to pursue my goal because of the number 3. I used to not have any favorite numbers but now, 3 is my favorite. At work, our monthly performance as employees is assessed through a monthly scorecard, where our immediate superiors would rate us from 1 to 5, with 1 as the highest rating, on our competencies based on their observation and appreciation of the work we’ve done which revolves primarily on leading a team. I have been in my role for a little over three years now. I am not an expert on anything but I can say that I always make sure that I go beyond the baseline expectations most of the time. I give more than what is asked. I share my ideas to improve our team’s processes without being asked. Yes, you guessed it right! From 2015 to last month, I kept getting 3s in my scorecard which means just meeting expectations. Three is just a number, I agree, but these numbers being used to assess us greatly affects our self-worth as employees. A rating of 3 can either motivate you to walk an extra mile and work harder, or it can motivate you to pursue something else that can give you self-fulfillment. I am glad now that 3 motivated me to do the latter.

Another reason why I now believe that 3 is my lucky number is that I went to the Supreme Court three times to file my petition to take the exams. It was only on the third attempt that I was able to file my petition. During the first try, there was no lawyer available to receive my petition which came with an NLRC clearance. I was told that a lawyer was needed before it is processed. The second try was Manila Day. Since I am from Quezon City and did not watch news in the morning, I went on leave on that day to file my application, only to find out that the Supreme Court was closed. I was crying while I was on my way back home because I was getting frustrated. But I took it as a sign that “If I want something so bad, I should be ready to sacrifice and work hard for it. Then I will reap the best reward in the end.” Some friends would probably have said that it was a sign that it’s not yet my year but I thought otherwise.

Last reason? The results came out on May 3, 2017, the day when the stars have aligned in broad daylight. 

Anecdote.

Just to share a funny story during less than a month before the Bar. Labs and Kurt were rooting for Ginebra during the PBA Finals in October. I am not a Ginebra fan simply because I am not a big fan of basketball but I do watch games with them.

There were people who doubted that Ginebra would pull it off because it’s been EIGHT YEARS since the last time they became champions. While we were watching the game, you might find it weird but I told myself that if Ginebra wins after eight years, that meant only one thing, it’s another sign that I can make it. I was in tears when Justin Brownlee made the winning shot during the last dying seconds of the game. It took eight long years and many seasons of ridicule before Ginebra finally regained their lost glory. I felt that I also regained mine that night.

Before the battle.

Pre-bar review went by so fast without me noticing it. With just about a month left before the exams, I made the most out of my free time reading, listening to and watching the recorded online lectures while working. As for my backlog, I was only able to cover less than half of the post it notes on my board which I collected since June but I wasn’t very worried. I was worried a bit but not scared nor nervous.

I also made sure that I had enough sleep and chill time. I even went to see a movie one Friday night before the exams because I felt I needed to go to the mall to unwind. I felt that stressing myself more about reviewing and catching up on what I missed would do more damage to my overflowing confidence.

On the last Sunday of October, our family went to Saint Padre Pio Church in Libis to attend mass; we offered a mass for my exams, prayed ardently for guidance and I had my pens and transparent bags blessed too. There were many rosaries hanging in the garden around the church which were offered by devotees for their answered prayers. When I saw the rosaries, I had this very clear picture in my mind that I will be back after 6 months to offer my rosary for thanksgiving. We lighted candles and prayed for guidance, and believed, St. Padre Pio’s words, Pray, hope, and don’t worry. That picture in my mind happened on May 7, 2017.

  The Bar month.

How did I spend the four weeks of November that changed our lives today?

I still tried to live a normal life. I attended some of pre-week lectures because these are the only chances I had left to cover what I missed but still went to work in between. At that point, I no longer had the time to read more materials. I had to squeeze in reviewing Kurt for his exams and making plans for his 7th birthday too. Then there was this Leadership Summit I needed to attend.

To compensate for the lack of time or reading or whatever it is I failed to do for the review, I made sure I listened intently and understood the lectures, especially those subjects I missed during the regular review. I jotted down notes from time to time, notes which by now, I can no longer understand why I wrote them that way. The lectures helped me a lot during the exams. There were questions which I was able to answer because I can almost hear Atty. Lumbera’s voice saying “Parlor ni Lumbera, income within, taxable or non-taxable?”

Kidding aside, yes, there were instances during the exams where I can hear the voices of our lecturers explaining what was being asked.

On Saturday mornings, I attended the free lectures conducted by KokoBar Review, a project of Senator Koko Pimentel at PUP from 8AM to 12PM. I found their lectures and handouts helpful for last minute readings and they even served free snacks.

After the review, I would drop by at Starbucks Commonwealth and browse notes until around 3PM, then I go home straight for my scheduled home service massage, take a nap and wake up after an hour or two. I browse notes for another hour while having an early dinner just to boost my confidence, prepare my things for Sunday, then chat with friends in Facebook who knew that I was taking the exams. Above all these, I made sure I slept no later than 8PM.

On Sundays, I woke up at around 3 AM, pray, browse notes for an hour while having coffee to add confidence and prepare for the battle. My entire family’s already up and about before I left for the exams, wishing me all the best. Labs was the one in charge of my “baon” which was the same the whole month. I had a liter of water, 2 bars of small Toblerone, 2 individual packs of Sky Flakes, candies and 2 ChizWhiz sandwiches.

Four Sundays went by fast. The exams were difficult but fair and reasonable. I survived the battle because from my self assessment, I can’t stress enough that I may not have READ everything but I made sure that I LISTENED AND UNDERSTOOD the lectures. My coaches said that it is good enough that I understood and know how to apply the law, and even better that I have a good grasp of the English language.  So it’s done. I slayed the last of the beast on 27 November 2017.

The Bar Vet.

The first time I took the Bar, I heard the term “Bar Bet”, that’s when your school and supporters believe that you will pass the Bar. Now that it’s my third, maybe in this race, I’m now considered as one of the “Bar Vets” or Bar Veterans, having taken the Bar more than once.

Being a BarVet and having taken the Bar under different circumstances, I can’t help but compare the difference between Bar candidates from the province and those from the city. I am a graduate of a provincial state university and found it hard adjusting during my first take, having to travel and temporary live in the city, and not to mention, it cost us a lot of money.

This time around, the adjustment was easier because I had been in the city for almost a decade and already adapted to the traffic and way of life. I found this experience as more advantageous because aside from having my mother, Labs, Kyle and Kurt with me everyday of my journey, I was able to continue working, and go home to a “real home”, not a rented room or bedspace, and live the normal life I planned while reviewing.

My two cents’ worth.

Looking back, my failure in 2008 brought me to where I am today, not just me, but my family too. We never imagined ourselves living anywhere away from our hometown but because of the circumstances, we were able to uproot ourselves from our comfort zones and explore better opportunities and pursue our other dreams and goals as a family

My experience in the past helped me develop a more mature perspective, become more responsible and most of all, learn the values of patience, kindness, and humility.

If you are a bar candidate or an aspiring lawyer who has made it to this part of my story, I am sorry if I disappoint you in any way because I do not have the perfect recipe for passing the Bar exams. I can only hope to inspire you by sharing my thoughts and experience.

I vowed to keep my journey as discreet as possible because I wanted to avoid negativities but I still had to tell a few people due to circumstances. I’ve heard some say that I was too late in the race; someone asked me if I was sure with what I was getting myself into and warned me that he has done the same before and look at him now, when I said yes, he said “well, that’s your choice, don’t say I didn’t warn you”, and another comment was I was having midlife crisis. I did not listen to any of them. I shrugged them off and kept my focus on the goal.

My point is, you have to keep that positive attitude and perspective no matter what the circumstances are. Do not let anyone make you feel that you cannot do it. Hold on to that firm resolve that you can do it I am not an expert on anything; I haven’t even taken my oath yet but sharing my two cents’ worth just the same.

While reviewing, I hope you’ll remember these:

Be with happy people, surround yourself with people whom you know sincerely believes in you and supports you all the way.

Don’t be hard on yourself. No one can tell you how exactly you should review or what the best way is for you to pass. Listen to the success stories shared by lawyers to inspire you but among all those stories, you have to find which or what works best for you.

Live a balanced life. Do not deprive yourself or your family of any opportunity to be happy just because you are busy reviewing. Just enjoy the moment. The Bar review should not stop you from living,

Eye on the goal. Even if you miss other opportunities during your journey, don’t fret, the goal is to be a lawyer, nothing else. Whatever you missed just because people think you don’t have that cherry on top, it will all come back a hundredfold.

Believe you can. When I say BELIEVE, you have to completely believe in yourself, talk as if it’s been done and you have achieved your goal but stay humble. Never have second thoughts that you will make it. Only now did I understand what it means to really CLAIM IT.

Finally, when you decide to take that leap of faith, let go, and let God lead you in your journey.

For the last five years, I have been very busy dotting i’s and crossing t’s at work. Now, it’s time for me to dot the Y and become an ATTY.

Post Bar.

I wrote a blogpost after the Bar Exams – The Aftermath because I was thrilled to share my experience and how I eager I was for the results to come out. But then I had to rewrite it a few times because only a few people knew about the journey and I wanted to prevent people from speculating and making up stories based on their imagination.

When the day came, Labs and I went to the Supreme Court early for the results. I was that bold and confident about the result. I was prepared for whatever the outcome is. It would have been sad if I did not make it but I have prepared myself more for this day than I did for the Bar.

Merci.

Foremost, I thank the Lord for answering our prayers with a resounding YES. Indeed, He makes all things beautiful, in His time.

I am grateful to everyone who supported me and believed in me in all my journeys – 2007, 2008 and 2016. I am equally grateful to those who did not believe, and more thankful to those who have put me down, belittled and mocked my dream for without them, I would not have had one of the reasons to pursue this.

Thank you most especially to my family, my ONE AND ONLY BAR OPS TEAM 2016 – Mama, Labs, Kyle and Kurt, and my solid supporters – Tita Beybee and Tito Jun, Doc Susan and fam, Tita Emma, Tita Vivien, Ninang Flor, and Ate Dulce.

Special shout out to my very supportive friends – Mami Vee, CM, Pong, Rein, Lyn, Bert and Bianca, Joe, Maan, Sarah, Jaimee, Resty, Nikki, Cabs, Madie, Aji, Milyn, Alvren, Popay, Tonet, Ghie, Michelle, Cwisty, Dude, Zygotte, Badz, Bes Pam, Armi, Christine, Macon, Ate Sally, Melody and Beat.

Although I did not know until after the Bar my teammates have all been very supportive too – Alexa, Tara, Nikko, Raevee, Des, Chizca, Jaja, Mia and Gem. I saw the video of how my teammates cried and cheered on the day the results came out, my sincerest gratitude for the love and support.

And to my relatives who did not know until the results came out, I thank you too, because I know that you’ve always believed in me. Special shoutout too to Tito O, Tita Joyce, Manang Nini and fam, Kate and fam, Papa Den, Mars Mel, Mieko, Papa Louie, Mars Tin,and Tita Luz.

I am very thankful to Jurists to this day as they have helped me prepare and believe in myself. They filled the eight-year gap with confidence.

All Jurists lecturers were very good but there are special ones I would like to thank as they stood out and had great impact on me because their lectures, despite the very short time, helped me better appreciate and understand the difficult subjects I’ve always found as my weak areas. Atty. Riza Lumbera for Tax, Atty. Carlo Cruz for Consti, Atty. Tranquil Salvador for Remedial Law, and Atty. Modesto Ticman for Criminal Law.

Thank you to my Jurists coaches. I only took two mock bars during the review and had two different coaches.  Sadly, I cannot remember their names anymore because I wrote them down on one of my notebooks which I probably have thrown away by now. But of course, even if I forgot their names, I still remember the best practices they shared and which I followed.  My coach in Commercial Law said that I should bring a Toblerone which I can use as a ruler for my margin and my coach in Labor advised me to beef up on jurisprudence. I followed both pieces of advice.

Now that the Y has been dotted, I can’t say that I can’t ask and pray for more. I pray that the Lord will guide us in this new journey and that I may use this gift for His glory.

“Those who dance are called insane by those who don’t hear the music.” – Eddie Vedder

    The day I dotted the Y. This story is about my journey during the 2016 Bar Examinations. I am sharing this because I wish to inspire those who have given up on their dreams to keep dreaming, those who doubt themselves to start building their confidence again, and those who feel lost to keep praying.

[teachanarchy]

When Eli Sommer came across the term “transgender” in a Tumblr post in high school, everything clicked. “Oh,” he thought. “That’s me.” Attending a Georgia high school, struggling with anxiety and depression, Eli tried to communicate with his parents who were forcing gender conformity and insisting he was a girl. It wasn’t until his psychologist, who is himself transgender, recommended The Transgender Child as a resource that his parents realized what Eli needed to thrive.

The family met with his homeroom teacher, who quickly became an ally, even advising the LGBT club Eli established called GLOW (Gay, Lesbian Or Whatever). “He’s cisgender, he’s straight,” Eli recalls, “but he’s passionate about advocating and making sure all of the kids in our club succeed in school and aren’t held back because of how they identify.”

Eli also found an advocate in his school principal, who located a gender-neutral restroom for him to use at school. “I would not have thought that my principal would have been helpful because he drives a big red truck with a gun rack on it,” recounts Eli. “But when all of the transgender stuff came to the table, he was like, ‘I don’t really understand, but Eli’s a good kid and we’ll get him what he’s entitled to.’”  

Although it was not without obstacles, the relative ease of Eli’s transition is rare. The 2013 GLSEN National School Climate Survey found that, compared to their LGB peers, transgender and gender-nonconforming students face the most hostile school climates. According to the National Center for Transgender Equality, in 2015, 75 percent of transgender youth felt unsafe at school, and those who did not drop out altogether were more likely to miss school due to a safety concern, have significantly lower GPAs, and were less likely to plan for future education.

The good news is educators are learning more about how to support nonbinary youth at school. One of the most important lessons? The needs of transgender youth remain distinct from those of their LGB peers—and they extend beyond pronoun usage and bathroom access.

“When Kids Like Me Grow Up …” Experts cite mentorship as instrumental for trans students’ success, but formal mentors are scarce. Jenn Burleton, executive director of TransActive Gender Center in Portland, Oregon, sought to establish a trans-to-trans mentoring program but failed to locate enough transgender adults for similarly identified youth.

“Right now what these kids do not have is enough of a sense that: ‘When kids like me grow up, there’s an adult version of me doing what everybody else does and getting through the day. They’re there for me to see and know that there’s a place for me to walk when I get older,’” Burleton says. “Not letting kids see that can give them a subliminal sense that there is a dead end to their identity or that hiding is the only way to be.”    

Kiera Hansen, a genderqueer-identified social worker in Portland, Oregon, is attempting to fill this void. Hansen—who prefers the pronoun they—helps run an afterschool drop-in program where almost everyone identifies as trans or gender-nonconforming. While funding sources have diminished, their team has pooled resources throughout the city to create a tight-knit group. Outside of the group, Hansen has accompanied mentees to school when they need support, meeting with teachers to ensure access to the right bathrooms, use of the right pronouns, and to address any other issues students might face.

Hansen cites modeling vulnerability as a key to successful mentoring. “I’m surviving a lot of things on a regular basis, just as the youth are,” they recount. “I am genuinely honest with them. We’re transparent about the hurdles and barriers we go through in life and in the program. We do not make everything look perfect and well-put-together. We want them to have the tools to interact with the systems that are often working against them and their voices.”

One of the members of their drop-in group, Cameron, is about to graduate from high school and attributes part of that success to the group. “I have a really bad attendance problem with school,” he confides, recounting frequent bullying, including being compared to a wild animal in sociology class. “Having this group to look forward to every week has been one of the motivations that brings me back to school.”

Gender Identity Competency When working toward success at school for transgender students, it is paramount for youth to identify an adult with whom they feel safe. Johanna Eager, director of the Human Rights Campaign’s Welcoming Schools program, coaches educators around gender identity competency. She trains schools to help transitioning students identify a knowledgeable staff member who may or may not be trans but to whom students feel safe going during the day. “Any trans student needs to know who their safe person is,” she says. “You are vulnerable if you are the only one.”  

Eager says there is no formula to positive mentorship. Some mentors are passionate and informed based on experience. Some are naturally kind and caring, with no formal training. “I’ve seen educators who don’t have much knowledge tend to the social emotional health for a trans child, and I have seen folks who are trans or LGBTQ be supportive with their knowledge. It can be either and it always has been.”

Above all, quality mentors trust that transgender youth know who they are and what they need. As one father reflected about parenting his transgender son, “There were never any conscious decisions. It was always intuitive, following him. It’s about letting him lead and supporting wherever he is. That line is always moving.”

Transgender youth are looking, first and foremost, for adults to respect their chosen names and pronouns. Making this effort validates young people’s core identity and solidifies their safety. Without it, a trusted relationship cannot be built. As Cameron says, “People using your pronouns and correct name without fail is wonderful. When people do it with no question, you can tell they see you the way you want to be seen.”

Earning the trust and respect of transgender students requires educators to uncover any internalized transphobia and recognize personal biases. Some allies find it takes time to mentally de-align gender and genitalia. Still, adults cannot show up for youth without honestly accepting their feelings and beliefs. If they skip this crucial step, youth will notice. This is the case for Todd, who is genderqueer and can read their teachers’ facial expressions as measurements of acceptance and safety.

Once educators recognize their own behaviors and microaggressions, they’re better equipped to identify microaggressions, bullying and harassment when they happen in schools. Even if it appears minor, these behaviors need to be interrupted in the moment. Too often transgender students expect no assistance from teachers; being ostracized becomes the norm. As one trans middle school student—who is now homeschooled—attests, “As long as it doesn’t escalate to a screaming match, they think everything looks fine.”

Furthermore, the interruption does not have to be impeccable. Eager recommends, “Just say something. You may screw it up, it may not feel comfortable, it may not be perfect. But saying something is better than saying nothing, and you need to say it because everyone is watching to see if they are going to be safe.”

If necessary, distinguish between the personal and the professional. Lead author of the resource guide Schools In Transition, Asaf Orr, stands behind educators who are “on board” regardless of their personal beliefs. “In their private lives these educators may not be supportive of gender exploration,” Orr notes. “But when they get to school, they know it’s critical to be 100 percent supportive of a kid’s own gender exploration, and they ensure the space for them to do that.”    

Educators can support their trans students by including nonbinary identities in the curriculum. As Cameron asserts, “With every sex ed class we have that’s not inclusive, and every English class where there’s no inclusive literature, there’s another trans kid that feels so alone.”

Recognizing nonbinary gender identities depicted within student work is also important, as youth are likely to reflect themselves most accurately. One agender-identified seventh-grader, Jace, remembers feeling safe after a teacher commented on their agender character drawing, saying they “looked cool.”

Finally, do not assume. Nontransidentified adults, says Cameron, “are never going to be able to fully understand what any trans person is going through. Adults need not question the way a person feels about themselves, because they do not know. They are never going to feel the same way. And we have to figure ourselves out.”

Transgender youth know what they need to feel safe. Strong mentors ask them.

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5 years after Sandy Hook, the victims have not been forgotten

(CNN)It remains among America’s most heinous nightmares: the lives of 20 little children — dancers and swimmers, pianists and painters, budding readers, little sisters and big brothers — extinguished in a flash of violence inside Sandy Hook Elementary.

Five years later, even those who have never set foot near Newtown, Connecticut, can conjure the scene painted by police of a first-grade classroom transformed into a killing field. Can see the faces of anguished parents desperate for proof of life, then later, tiny caskets overloaded with stuffed animals never to be named.

Since the 2012 massacre, a new school has been built for the students of a town known, now and for years to come, as a cradle of sorrow — but also as the home of quiet resilience and untold love.

The 12 girls, eight boys and six women whose futures were stolen that day will be remembered, always. Here is a glimpse of what we learned about them in the days after they were lost:

Charlotte Bacon, 6

Charlotte was sweet, outgoing and full of energy, her grandmother told CNN affiliate WCCO in Minnesota.

“This is tough. This is surreal. You can’t believe this could happen,” Irene Hagen told the station. “The whole family is just devastated, and we’re all trying to come to terms with it.”

She said her granddaughter loved school and dresses. Her hair was a mass of beautiful red curls.

“It’s horrible. It’s really horrible,” Hagen told WCCO. “It’s hard to believe that someone would kill children, innocent children.”

Daniel Barden, 7

Daniel earned his missing two front teeth, his family used to say. His “fearless” pursuit of happiness and life also earned him ripped jeans.

“Despite that, he was, as his mother said, ‘Just So Good,'” his family wrote in a statement published in the New Haven Register.

Taking after his musician dad, he and his siblings — brother James and sister Natalie — formed a band. Daniel played drums.

He loved to ride waves at the beach and make s’mores around bonfires with his cousins.

“He embodied everything that is wholesome and innocent in the world,” the family said.

Rachel D’Avino, 29

She probably didn’t know it when she died, but her best friend was about to propose.

He had recently asked D’Avino’s parents for their blessing, and he was planning to ask for her hand in marriage on Christmas Eve.

That and other details about D’Avino’s life were described in an obituary posted on the website of Munson-Lovetere Funeral Homes of Connecticut.

“Her presence and tremendous smile brightened any room she entered,” it read.

Born in Waterbury, D’Avino received her undergraduate degree from the University of Hartford and her master’s from Post University. She was working toward her doctorate at the University of St. Joseph of Hartford.

D’Avino loved karate, cooking, animals, photography and her two younger siblings.

“Her passion, however, was her occupation as a behavioral therapist working with children within the autism spectrum,” the obituary read.

Olivia Engel, 6

Her favorite stuffed animal was a lamb; pink and purple were her favorite colors.

Olivia’s family posted a statement on Facebook with those and other details about their beloved daughter.

“She was insightful for her age and had a great sense of humor. She laughed a lot and always lit up a room including the people around her. She was very creative and was always drawing and designing things,” her family said.

Olivia took art and dance lessons, played tennis, soccer and swam. She was involved in Girl Scouts and musical theater. She loved school and did well in math and reading.

Her family described her as a “grateful child … never greedy.” Each night, Olivia led grace at the dinner table.

Josephine Gay, 7

Josephine celebrated her seventh birthday just days before she died. In one picture, published in various news stories, she’s smiling with glasses on the tip of her nose.

Josephine liked to ride her bike and sell lemonade in her neighborhood in the summer, The Wall Street Journal reported. The little girl loved the color purple.

Dylan Hockley, 6

Dylan and his family had moved from England to Connecticut two years before he died.

“We specifically chose Sandy Hook for the community and the elementary school. We do not and shall never regret this choice,” Dylan’s family said in a statement. “Our boys have flourished here, and our family’s happiness has been limitless.”

Dylan’s family said he loved to cuddle and play tag with neighbors at the bus stop every morning.

“He was learning to read and was so proud when he read us a new book every day,” the family said. “He adored his big brother Jake, his best friend and role model.”

Dylan’s parents also expressed gratitude to the educators who died with their son.

“We cannot speak highly enough of Dawn Hochsprung and Mary Sherlach, exceptional women who knew both our children,” the family said. “Dylan’s teacher, Vicki Soto, was warm and funny and Dylan loved her dearly. We take great comfort in knowing that Dylan was not alone when he died, but was wrapped in the arms of his amazing aide, Anne Marie Murphy. Dylan loved Mrs. Murphy so much and pointed at her picture on our refrigerator every day.

“Though our hearts break for Dylan, they are also filled with love for these and the other beautiful women who all selflessly died trying to save our children.”

Dawn Lafferty Hochsprung, 47

Hochsprung, who became Sandy Hook Elementary’s principal two years before the shooting, was “really nice and very fun, but she was also very much a tough lady in the right sort of sense,” friend Tom Prunty said.

And the students loved her. “Even little kids know when someone cares about them, and that was her,” he said.

“I never saw her without a smile,” said Aimee Seaver, the mother of a first-grader.

Hochsprung lived in Woodbury, Connecticut, with her husband, two daughters and three stepdaughters.

The career educator majored in special education for her bachelor’s and master’s degrees in the 1990s and had just entered the PhD program at Esteves School of Education at the Sage Colleges in New York. Hochsprung led a school district’s strategic planning panel and was the recipient of a national school grant.

Her accomplishments included overseeing the installation of a new security system requiring every visitor to ring the front entrance’s doorbell after the school doors locked at 9:30 a.m.

“My mom, Dawn Hochsprung, was taken tragically from me. But she went down in a blaze of glory that truly represents who she was,” her daughter, Cristina Hassinger, tweeted.

Madeleine Hsu, 6

Sweet. Unique. Bright. Determined. Sparking.

Those are words Madeleine’s family used to describe their little girl.

“She was an avid reader who loved running and dancing,” they said. “She was a born leader.”

Catherine Hubbard, 6

The little girl with bright red hair will be remembered for her smile and her love of animals.

Catherine is survived by her older brother, her parents, grandparents, great-grandmother, uncles, aunts and nine cousins.

“Her family prays that she, all the students of Sandy Hook Elementary, and all those affected by this brutal event find peace in their hearts,” they wrote in her obituary.

A Facebook page honoring Catherine spoke of how she is now an angel.

“Such a beautiful little soul,” the post read, saying the family’s loss is heaven’s gain.

Chase Kowalski, 7

What Chase really wanted for Christmas was his two front teeth.

“I saw him two days ago, and I asked him if he wanted to see Santa, and he told me that he wanted his teeth back, and it was really sweet,” Chase’s neighbor, Keeley Baumann, 13, told the News-Times newspaper.

At 6, Chase completed his first triathlon, but that was just one of his pursuits. He loved baseball. He was in the Cub Scouts. He looked forward to the kids’ workshop at the local Home Depot.

“We are thankful to the Lord for giving us seven years with our beautiful loving son. It is with heavy hearts that we return him,” the family said in an obituary.

Jesse Lewis, 6

Jesse loved math, riding horses and playing at his mom’s farm, his father told the New York Post.

“He was just a happy boy,” Neil Heslin said. “Everybody knew Jesse.”

He told the newspaper that his son was planning to make gingerbread houses at school. Heslin was planning to help.

Instead, the last time he saw his son was when he dropped him off at school at 9 a.m.

“He was going to go places in life,” Heslin told the Post.

Ana Marquez-Greene, 6

“One, two, three, ready and go,” Ana counts down in a homemade video provided to CNN affiliate WTIC.

The girl in pigtails stands in front of a piano as her brother plays. Her voice is clear, bigger than her size. Ana smiles and waves.

Her father, Jimmy Greene, is a jazz musician. His representative released a statement on Ana’s death, describing the little girl as “beautiful and vibrant.”

“The family has requested privacy at this time of heartbreaking loss,” it read. They “have asked us to relay their sincere gratitude for the outpouring of support and sympathy locally, nationally and internationally.”

James Mattioli, 6

As he was quick to remind everyone, James was 6 and ¾.

“He loved to wear shorts and T-shirts in any weather and grab the gel to spike his hair,” his family said in a loving obituary. “He would often sing at the top of his lungs, and once asked, ‘How old do I have to be to sing on a stage?'”

Indoors, he spent his time playing games on the iPad — especially the lawn-mowing one. Outdoors, he loved to dive off the diving board, “swim like a fish” in his grandfather’s pool and ride his bike — without training wheels.

“I need to go outside, Mom. I need fresh air,” he would often say.

He was born four weeks early — because he was hungry, his family joked.

James had a voracious appetite. His favorites? His dad’s egg omelets with bacon, and his mom’s French toast.

He looked up to his older sister, wanting to do everything she could.

“They were the best of friends, going to school together, playing games together, and making endless drawings and crafts together.”

The boy, whose family fondly called him “J,” will be incredibly missed, they said.

Grace McDonnell, 7

Grace was the “light and love of our family,” her mother told CNN.

She loved her brother, school, the beach and wanted to be a painter.

For her seventh birthday in November, Grace requested a purple cake with a turquoise peace sign and polka dots. And that’s exactly what she got.

“She was all about peace and gentleness and kindness,” Lynn McDonnell told CNN’s Anderson Cooper. “Grace didn’t have an ounce of hate in her, and so we have to live through Grace and realize that hate is not how our family is.”

The family drew cupcakes, ice creams cones, lighthouses and seagulls — all things Grace loved — on her tiny white casket.

Anne Marie Murphy, 52

A hero. That’s how a first responder reportedly described Murphy to her father.

He told Newsday that authorities told him her body was found in a classroom, covering young children killed in the shooting in an apparent attempt to shield them.

“She died doing what she loved. She was serving children and serving God,” Murphy’s mother, Alice McGowan, told the newspaper.

A married mother of four, Murphy was artistic and hardworking, her parents said.

“She was a happy soul,” her mother told Newsday. “She was a very good daughter, a good mother, a good wife.”

Emilie Parker, 6

She could “light up a room,” Emilie’s father said about his oldest daughter.

Robbie Parker described her as “bright, creative and very loving.” Emilie was always willing to try new things, he said, except food. Her laugh was infectious.

“My daughter Emilie would be one of the first ones to be standing up and giving her love and support to all of those victims, because that is the type of person she is,” Parker said.

She was “an exceptional artist, and she always carried around her markers and pencils so she never missed an opportunity to draw a picture or make a card for someone,” he said.

“This world is a better place because she has been in it,” Parker said.

Emilie’s aunt described her niece as the “sweetest little girl I’ve ever known.”

The family is devastated that “someone so beautiful and perfect is no longer going to be in our lives and for no reason,” said Jill Cottle Garrett.

Emilie’s father, who works as a physician assistant in the newborn unit at the Danbury hospital, recalled his last conversation with his daughter was in Portuguese, a language he was teaching her.

“She said that she loved me, and I gave her a kiss, and I was out the door,” he said.

Jack Pinto, 6

Jack was a first-grader, and his interests ran the gamut — baseball, basketball, wrestling, snow skiing. But his first love was football, and his idol was Victor Cruz, then the New York Giants star receiver.

Cruz paid tribute to the team’s young fan by scribbling “Jack Pinto. My Hero” on one of his cleats and “R.I.P. Jack Pinto” on the other for the team’s game with the Atlanta Falcons the Sunday after the shooting. On his glove, Cruz wrote, “Jack Pinto. This one is 4 U!”

Jack participated in his first wrestling match not long before his death and won a medal, according to the president of the New Milford Wrestling Association.

“In life and in death, Jack will forever be remembered for the immeasurable joy he brought to all who had the pleasure of knowing him, a joy whose wide reach belied his six short years,” Jack’s family wrote in an obituary for the little boy.

Noah Pozner, 6

“He had a huge heart, and he was so much fun, a little bit rambunctious, lots of spirit,” Noah’s aunt told CNN. “He was really the light of the room.”

Victoria Haller said her nephew loved playing with his cousins and siblings, especially his twin sister.

“He was a gorgeous, gorgeous boy, and he could really get what he wanted just by batting those long eyelashes and looking at you with those big blue eyes. You really couldn’t say no to him,” she said.

His siblings weren’t told immediately how Noah passed away, Haller said.

“How do you tell them that’s how their brother died?” she asked. “It’s the unthinkable really.”

Caroline Previdi, 6

“You were a sweet little girl and you will be missed.”

That’s the message that Caroline’s aunt reportedly tweeted, saying good-bye to her niece, according to the online version of the Press-Telegram in Long Beach, California.

“It hurts even more to see a familiar name on that list,” the report said Paige Tremblay also tweeted.

A Facebook page called “RIP Caroline Previdi — Sandy Hook Massacre Victim” contains dozens of messages. One reads: “Rest in Peace, sweetheart. I know for sure that God is with you and all the other sweet little angels. I feel so very sorry for all these families who lost their precious kids, my heart goes out to all of you.”

Jessica Rekos, 6

Jessica loved everything about horses — horse movies, horse books, drawing horses and writing stories about them.

She asked Santa this year for new cowgirl boots and a cowgirl hat. Her family had promised she could get her own horse when she turned 10.

“She was a creative, beautiful little girl,” her family said in a statement, describing Jessica as their “rock.”

“She had an answer for everything, she didn’t miss a trick, and she outsmarted us every time. We called her our little CEO for the way she carefully thought out and planned everything,” they said. “We cannot imagine our life without her.”

Jessica also loved orca whales and playing with her two little brothers.

“We are mourning her loss, sharing our beautiful memories we have of her, and trying to help her brother Travis understand why he can’t play with his best friend,” her family said.

Avielle Richman, 6

Avielle was happiest when she was on a horse.

Her trainer, Annette Sullivan, told the Connecticut Post that Avielle would “giggle when she trotted.”

Like kids her age, her first loose tooth was a sign she was growing up.

“She showed me her wiggly tooth, she was so excited,” Sullivan told the newspaper. “She was the most delightful little girl you ever met in your life.”

Lauren Rousseau, 30

Rousseau, a permanent substitute teacher at Sandy Hook Elementary, “wanted to be a teacher from before she even went to kindergarten,” her mother said in a written statement. “We will miss her terribly and will take comfort knowing that she had achieved that dream,” Teresa Rousseau said.

She grew up in Danbury, Connecticut, and earned a bachelor’s degree from the University of Connecticut and a master’s degree in elementary education from the University of Bridgeport.

Rousseau “worked as a substitute teacher in Danbury, New Milford and Newtown before she was hired in November as a permanent substitute teacher at Sandy Hook,” her mother said.

Mary Sherlach, 56

Sherlach, Sandy Hook Elementary’s school psychologist, was with Hochsprung when they heard a “pop, pop, pop” sound around 9:30 a.m., a parent who was with both women at the time told CNN. Sherlach was shot to death after heading into the hall to find out what was happening.

“I … am always ready to assist in problem-solving, intervention and prevention,” Sherlach wrote on her website.

Sherlach earned her undergraduate degree in psychology at SUNY Cortland and a master’s degree at Southern Connecticut State University. She worked as a rehabilitation assistant at a group home for disabled adults and as a community mental health placement specialist before becoming a school psychologist.

She worked in three Connecticut school systems before moving to Sandy Hook Elementary in 1994. During her time in Newtown, Sherlach kept busy as a member of numerous groups, including the district conflict resolution committee, safe school climate committee, crisis intervention team and student instructional team.

Sherlach and her husband of more than three decades lived in Trumbull, Connecticut, and, together, they were “proud parents” of two daughters in their late 20s. Her website listed her interests as gardening, reading and going to the theater.

Victoria Soto, 27

Soto, a first-grade teacher at Sandy Hook Elementary, moved her students away from the classroom door when she heard gunfire, which students initially “thought were hammers falling,” according to the father of one of her students.

“That’s when the gunman burst in, did not say a word, no facial expressions, and proceeded to shoot their teacher,” said Robert Licata, whose 6-year-old son, Aiden, escaped by running past the shooter.

Soto’s mother said her daughter was selfless.

“She would not hesitate to think to save anyone else before herself, and especially children. She loved them more than life, and she would definitely put herself in front of them any day,” Donna Soto told CNN.

Soto had wanted to be a teacher since she was 3 and talked about her students with “such fondness and caring,” her mother said.

Soto’s cousin, James Wiltsie, said Soto “instinctively went into action, when a monster came into her classroom, and tried to protect the kids that she loved so much.”

“We just want the public to know that Vicki was a hero,” he said.

Soto had a dog she loved. The black lab Roxie spent Saturday wandering around Soto’s apartment, apparently looking for her, relatives said.

Benjamin Wheeler, 6

Ben loved The Beatles, lighthouses and the No. 7 train to Sunnyside, Queens, his family said in a statement.

He and his older brother Nate “filled the house with the noise of four children.”

“Ben Wheeler was an irrepressibly bright and spirited boy whose love of fun and excitement at the wonders of life and the world could rarely be contained. His rush to experience life was headlong, creative and immediate,” his family said.

Ben loved soccer and swimming. Recently, he performed at a piano recital — a major feat for a little boy who rarely sat still.

Friday morning before school, he told him mom: “I still want to be an architect, but I also want to be a paleontologist, because that’s what Nate is going to be, and I want to do everything Nate does.”

Ben, Nate, and their parents, Francine and David Wheeler, moved to Newtown in 2007. Francine Wheeler is a music teacher and performer. David Wheeler is an illustrator and designer.

Two days after the shooting, Francine Wheeler’s band posted the following message on its Facebook page:

“With heavy hearts, we inform you of our saddest news: Francine Wheeler, a founding member of The Dream Jam Band, has lost her precious 6-year old son, Ben, to the tragedy in Newtown, Connecticut. Our prayers and love go out to Francine, David and Ben’s big brother, Nate.”

Allison Wyatt, 6

Allison once offered her snacks to a stranger on plane. That’s just the type of person she was.

Allison was a “sweet, creative, funny, intelligent little girl who had an amazing life ahead of her,” her parents said.

They described their daughter as kind-hearted. She loved to draw and wanted to be an artist.

“She loved to laugh and was developing her own wonderful sense of humor that ranged from just being a silly 6-year-old to coming up with observations that more than once had us crying with laughter,” her parents said.

“Allison made the world a better place for six, far too short years, and we now have to figure out how to move on without her … We love and miss her so much.”

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In a sea of middle school students dashing from class to class, one sixth grader takes her time. Cane in hand, she methodically maneuvers around obstacles, hearing every tiny squeal, pop and bang coming from the whirl of people around her.

Twelve-year-old Sarah Harmon, a student at Lafayette Middle School, is completely blind, but her ears have taken over the sensory job that her eyes cannot perform.

Her acute hearing helped her find a passion for music. The extraordinary gift of perfect pitch allowed her to excel quickly, despite having never seen a sheet of music.

Sarah has been taking piano lessons since she was five years old. She met her current piano instructor, Robert McGehee, when she was nine. McGehee described Sarah as simply amazing.

“I knew immediately that she had perfect pitch,” he said. “She can hear something and immediately know it before I even have time to look at the music.”

Sarah was the first blind student McGehee had ever worked with. He knew his teaching style would need to be different, but after meeting her for the first time McGehee realized she only needed his help with half of the work.

“She already knows the notes,” he said. “All we really do is work on hand posture, making sure she’s not doing something she’s not supposed to with her hands crossing over or anything.”

Diagnosed with Leber’s congenital amaurosis at four months old, Sarah Harmon is completely blind, but that hasn’t stopped her from excelling at music and in the classroom.

Her quick learning holds true with academics as well. She is enrolled in all of the same classes as her sixth-grade peers except one. 

At sixth period she parts ways with her classmates to meet with her facilitator, Cindy Ross.  Sarah has worked on braille exercises with Ross for seven years.

“She’s very curious. She wants to know exactly how the world works, which is wonderful,” Ross said. “She’s outgoing, very social. Kind of like a little grown-up.”

Their relationship is about more than just schoolwork. Sarah calls Ross her “school mom.”

“We went from kindergarten to elementary school to upper elementary, and now we’re in middle school. Now we deal with boys and crushes and friends,” Ross said. “She has developed into this beautiful flower, and I’ve gotten to watch that.”

Ross makes sure their time together is spent teaching Sarah an alternative way of completing every assignment given to her classmates. 

“When everyone else was starting to learn to write their letters, Ms. Cindy was showing me how to write them in braille,” Sarah said.

Ross wants to keep Sarah fully immersed with other kids her age. She and Sarah use a braille writer to type papers, a magnet board to solve math equations and a raised map to study geography.

“I like to read braille because it’s kind of like a secret language that other people can’t understand,” Sarah said.

Ross also transfers the lyrics of Sarah’s choir music into braille for her.

Jerri Harmon, Sarah’s mother, says she worries constantly about her daughter

“My goal is to make everything and anything that Sarah does appropriate for her and her disability,” Ross said. “It’s very important for me to have her understand what’s going on and be a part of it, even if she sometimes doesn’t like it, but she’s so cooperative and so willing to try anything. You really couldn’t ask for a better student.”

Every day at 2:06 p.m., Ross says her goodbyes after walking Sarah to the choir building. Sarah is a member of the advanced choir.

Sarah is the first student whom choir teacher Hannah Gadd taught that has the gift of perfect pitch.

“The fact that she has it really sets her apart [in the choir], especially since she’s in the sixth grade,” Gadd said.

Only one other sixth-grader was accepted into the advanced choir, otherwise made up entirely of seventh- and eighth-graders.

“I didn’t really know about [the advanced placement] at first, so I was like ‘whoa!’ The advanced goes to choir at the end of the day at seventh period, and the beginners go before us at sixth period,” Sarah said.

Her mother, Jerri Harmon, was not surprised that Sarah was invited to move up. She knew her daughter loved music even before she knew Sarah was blind.

“I knew something was up when I was feeding her her bottle,” Harmon said. “Her eyes would move side to side.”

Harmon’s mother worked at an eye clinic at the time and knew her granddaughter’s eyes should have been tracking movement at that point in her infancy.

Sarah was diagnosed with Leber’s congenital amaurosis at four months old. It took her family by surprise since it is a hereditary disease but both parents are fully sighted.

Robert McGehee, Sarah’s piano teacher, tried to prepare for her early lessons by wearing a blindfold.

“I was in the pediatrician’s office with her, and I started busting out crying,” Harmon said. “You do everything that you think is right during the pregnancy by textbook and then find out that she had that kind of trouble.”

As Sarah grew, so did her passion for music. The Harmons rallied behind their daughter and never wavered in their support.

“[We do] anything to foster it because it’s not like she’s going to be out there playing soccer or basketball or anything like that,” Harmon said. 

The family hit another medical wall with Sarah when she was diagnosed with scoliosis and needed surgery to place rods in her back.

“I would take her in for a well-child checkup and they would find something else going on with her. I was like, how much more can this kid take? It’s not fair to her,” Harmon said.

After the surgery, Sarah found comfort in music. She asked her parents for a keyboard that she could play in bed. During the recovery process, Sarah would pass the time playing the piano or listen to her favorite a capella group, the Pentatonix.

Harmon said her family’s faith kept them strong during hard times with Sarah’s health.

“Every hour of the day, I’m always worried,” she said. “But it’s in God’s hands, and we have to leave it there.”

Sarah’s perfect pitch is an example of God leading her to do what she wants to do, according to Harmon.

Sarah said she just wants to keep on living a good life. She has two dreams. One is to meet the Pentatonix in-person. The other is to one day become a music teacher for children.

“I feel very happy and excited because I know more good things will happen in my future,” Sarah said.

Lauren Layton is a senior journalism major at the University of Mississippi.

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