I typically use this place to write about pedagogy and how kids learn. Today, it’s about how kids hurt. A mom just dropped in to “say hi.” I invited her to sit and chat — five minutes later, her eyes filled with tears, she’s sharing about her son’s hurts. I haven’t seen her son in a while — he worked with me during his freshman year, developed his independent learning skills, and moved out of my program. He’s a senior now. And he hurts. And she hurts. And no one here knows. She wanted advice — who to tell, how to move forward, how to believe that he’ll be okay. There’s a past. There’s that genetic history. There’s that shadow of what if he also…. How does a mom’s heart hold all of that hurt? How has his heart held all of that hurt…and for how long? … And of course, it all reminds me that he’s not alone. Others like him walk through the halls, past our room doors, into our classrooms, sitting beside us or across from us…with hidden hurts. And if we’re astute, or if they’re reaching out for help, we notice the red cries when the sleeve gets pushed up or we hear the pleas in the leave-me-alone silence. I am once again reminded, also, that I am not a savior. But I believe in hope and in prayer. I am thankful that this mom sought me out today…not because I have answers but because I care and can offer to help carry the hurts as she seeks out the professional support for her son — and there is healing for hidden hurts over time.