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Description
"Jenny."

The child paused and glanced back at her teacher as the other students rushed out of the classroom to head home. "What is it?" she asked and gave a tug at her sleeve.

He watched the movement with sad eyes and then waved her over to his desk. "I need to speak with you. Don't be afraid." He spoke softly, his heart going out to her as she slowly approached.

"I didn't do anything wrong, did I?" She stopped before his desk, only a second grader. Her clothing was worn, and slightly over-sized, and her frame was skinny-skinny and shaking. Her brown hair was cut short, and her brown eyes were swimming with tears, though none fell.

"No," the teacher, Thomas, whispered as he held out a hand and guided her around to the other side of the desk. "You didn't do anything wrong, Jenny." He stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out where to begin.

"I was hurt too, as a child." He saw her start, saw her staring at him, but he didn't stop speaking. "I thought that I deserved it, that it was because I was different, bad. I never said anything, and if anybody asked I denied it." He looked up at her with his mismatched eyes, to see that she was crying. He took her small hand in his, squeezing it gently to let her know that he was there, and that he cared.

"Nobody deserves to be hurt, Jenny. Nobody." He stared into her eyes, now silently crying too. "I don't think you're worthless."

He drew her into a hug and held her close as she let out the emotions she had been holding back for so long. Only when her sobbing had stopped did he release her, but he still held her hand as he climbed to his feet and then led her towards the door.

"I'll help you get through this," he whispered to her as he glanced down at her. "No matter what, remember that I care."

She looked up at him, with her serious brown eyes and asked, "You care?"

"Yes."

He smiled at her, and she offered him the beginnings of a smile.

Description
"Jenny."

The child paused and glanced back at her teacher as the other students rushed out of the classroom to head home. "What is it?" she asked and gave a tug at her sleeve.

He watched the movement with sad eyes and then waved her over to his desk. "I need to speak with you. Don't be afraid." He spoke softly, his heart going out to her as she slowly approached.

"I didn't do anything wrong, did I?" She stopped before his desk, only a second grader. Her clothing was worn, and slightly over-sized, and her frame was skinny-skinny and shaking. Her brown hair was cut short, and her brown eyes were swimming with tears, though none fell.

"No," the teacher, Thomas, whispered as he held out a hand and guided her around to the other side of the desk. "You didn't do anything wrong, Jenny." He stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out where to begin.

"I was hurt too, as a child." He saw her start, saw her staring at him, but he didn't stop speaking. "I thought that I deserved it, that it was because I was different, bad. I never said anything, and if anybody asked I denied it." He looked up at her with his mismatched eyes, to see that she was crying. He took her small hand in his, squeezing it gently to let her know that he was there, and that he cared.

"Nobody deserves to be hurt, Jenny. Nobody." He stared into her eyes, now silently crying too. "I don't think you're worthless."

He drew her into a hug and held her close as she let out the emotions she had been holding back for so long. Only when her sobbing had stopped did he release her, but he still held her hand as he climbed to his feet and then led her towards the door.

"I'll help you get through this," he whispered to her as he glanced down at her. "No matter what, remember that I care."

She looked up at him, with her serious brown eyes and asked, "You care?"

"Yes."

He smiled at her, and she offered him the beginnings of a smile.