Running Scared: Part 1

Words failed me as I sat across the table from one of my seventeen-year-old students. Kaylee sniffles filled the silence in the room. Tears fell down her cheeks.
She whispered, "You don't understand. I can't do this." Kaylee looked down.

I prayed. And handed her a tissue. "I really believe you can."

She shook her head and looked back at me. Fear rested behind her eyes.

Maybe I didn't understand. For the second time in a week, a student informed me that they couldn't do the assignment. I had asked them to write their person stories about their relationship with God.

She twisted a stained Kleenex in her hand. "I don't have anything to share."

"I disagree," I said, "Everyone has a story to tell. I'm not asking you to make something up. I'm asking you to be real. You can decide how much or how little you want to tell your classmates."

Kaylee sat straight in her chair and held her chin high. With quavering words she said, "I'll take an F on the assignment."

I sighed. God, what do I say?

"You're not the type of student who would do that." I stood, walked around the table, and put my hand on her shoulder. "I believe there's a story in you. I'll let you decide how to share it."

Kaylee’s final words came to me before I entered the hall.

"I can't."


But she will.

Because one student took the time to be real.

(to be continued)