Senseless Lesson

I learned about Danielle on Thursday, but have been completely at a loss to document it. Even though I waited for the experience to wash over me and to gain higher wisdom from it, I can’t find a way to write this that makes it okay, or understandable. Danielle (name changed, of course) was stabbed last week, along with her brother in what is speculated as a gang-related incident. Her lung has collapsed, and she is in critical condition.

There’s no way to be glib about this, or to talk senseless shop about changing the world. I can’t even say “what a shame,” because it wouldn’t be saying enough. In fact, I’m throwing useless words in the air as it is.

I only met Danielle a few times, her attendance was infrequent, and she was neither a student I was writing observations on for class, or a student I took a particular interest in. But I had seen this young woman, had spoken with her, and had known her face. She’s becomes something I had only heard about prior; a statistic, surely, but more like the mythos that surrounds inner-city teaching. In this moment, it is all very frighteningly real.