I did not know anyone around me. The room was filled with people sitting at tables. We were there to eat a delicious lunch and celebrate all of the successes and achievements of this nonprofit’s previous year.

We all believe in the mission:  Heal families and inspire youth to reach their full potential.

Maria is sitting next to me, and we are exchanging pleasantries.  She is a school counselor, and this organization gets her support because she firmly believes in the work they are accomplishing for kids and families in San Jose.

I tell her I am writing a book.  She asks me what it is about, and I give her the very short version: Public schools, power, gender, race, and the inequality of opportunities for kids who don’t live in the ‘right’ zip code.  She says she wants to read it.

Maria went to public school in Salinas, California.  Her parents worked in the fields, as did the parents of most of the kids at her school.  In the early 1970s, when Maria was in the fifth grade, Javier was in her class, and Mr. Dan was the teacher.  Javier was rambunctious, and Mr. Dan was always mad at him.  The day that Mr. Dan threw Javier to the ground, and called him names, and kicked him over and over and over was the day that Maria decided to make things better for kids like Javier and for kids like herself.

Maria’s story was a knife to my heart and caused unbearable pain in my teaching soul.

I exclaim dismay and horror.  Maria tells me that Mr. Dan continued to teach at that school, and as far as she knew,  she and Javier and the rest of the kids in the class never complained to anyone who could do anything about Mr. Dan.  He continued to teach children who had no voice about their circumstances.  Their parents had no agency to ask for changes.

Silently, I tell myself to continue writing my book. The stories of kids like Javier and Maria need to be told.  Children who live in the ‘right’ zip code don’t have teachers like Mr. Dan.