"Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. Only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape."

Mr. Knife came to school today. He was released last night from jail. He's a minor, so they don't keep him locked up for more than two days.

I really didn't want to see him. I didn't want to be near him. I didn't want to talk to him. But he wanted to talk to me.

He came to the 7th grade classroom I was in and asked me to come outside. A bit angry and a bit sad, he told me he wanted to run away. "Jay-Sen, my name, it's dirty now," he said. "Everyone knows my name and it's dirty."

I'm still pretty angry about Saturday and I wasn't willing to give him a free pass, so I looked at him and said "And who did that? Who made your name dirty? You did that."

He started again with "but he said I don't have a father and.."

I had it at that point and cut him off. "You can't go around stabbing
everyone who says something you don't like," I replied hastily. "I stood up for you at Rhodes. I put my reputation on the line when I told the guard you wouldn't do anything and you came back and stabbed him. You lied to me. You are the reason you have a bad name."

He looked at me and started crying. The boy who whipped out a knife and stabbed a kid in the back three times was in front of me with tears welling up in his eyes. "It's best for me to run away. My name, it's not good here anymore," he said again. "And they want to send me to Queenstown."

Queenstown is a facility that helps students like this boy overcome tremendous obstacles and hopefully rehabilitates them in a way that keeps them out of prison.

I looked at him again and said "I have fought very hard for you (and I have). I think it is the best thing for you to go. I'm not happy that you have to go. It will be sad to see you leave, but you must go. You need help. You're smart, but you have issues with anger."

He said, "I can work on that (his anger). I would like to stay till July then I'll go because you'll be gone then maybe I will go."

"No," I replied. "You could do something that will put you in jail again by then. You really have got to go now." He started crying again. I want him to go. I think somewhere in himself he realizes he's got to go. The principal wants him to go.

It's odd how quickly my anger wears away. On Saturday, I really didn't want to see him ever again. Even this morning, I wasn't fully prepared to see him. When he came to school, I was prepared to just ignore him. When you sit down and talk to him and realize how lost he is, you can't help but let that anger fall away. He just doesn't know what to do and you can't help but feel sorry for him. You can't help but see the humanity right under that tough outer shell. You can't help but see the vulnerable little guy that's caught up in drug addiction, and yes, unspeakable violence. You can't help but want to give them a second chance.

"But you say you want to see me," he said. "Right? You say you want to see me. You won't see me again if I go to Queenstown."

He's right. I won't.

But maybe, just maybe, he'll be given one last chance and he'll take it.