These kids have no idea.
They think they're here to hang out with friends.
I think they're here to learn.
We're both here to make it out alive.
This is our inner city America.

It's filled with Mexican food and fights
and limited school supplies.
We hide behind high fives and hugs,
loving each other louder with songs
and dancing on playgrounds covered in fallen trees.

They're tougher than most, kinder than anyone I know.
They share food, tears, plans for futures most won't see.
I walk into my classroom each day with hopes I don't really have,
knowing they believe in things I can't possibly understand.

s. jensen