She was new to being a school counselor.

Fresh out of school herself.

She knew working in a large city like this one might be overwhelming sometimes

but she never thought such tiny persons 

  could have so many problems.

Her group sessions for some kids from broken homes

started off normally...

until an eight year old boy explained that his father wasn't around

  because he was in prison on felony murder charges.

The boy said it so nonchalantly.

Kids would be sent in the middle of classes

because they smacked their head on their desk repeatedly.

Many families lied about where they lived,

because this was a GOOD school in the area

  and they wanted the best for their babies.

Children had to keep up the lies.

This little girl. She knew this sweet kid well.

Bedwetter. Anxious. Self harmed in class. Nine years old.

She tried to talk to this girl

  and could see how uncomfortable she would get when questioned.

She'd never drop being unable

to get the girl's secret out.

Her and her colleagues often loved children

 when nobody else did.

Wiping tears, paying lunch balances, and explaining job layoffs.

It was all worth it, of course. But who decided

  that children should bear such burdens?