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Poem

The saddest, maddest children usually find their way to my office.
I am the school counselor.
They arrive on their own, knocking, or just running in.
I always ask if they have permission.
Some do, many do not.
They need to tell me how angry they are, how sad, how mad.
Often quivering and screaming, sometimes adding lots of swear words.
I do not mind. I am the school counselor.
It is my job to let them do whatever they can to vent, to feel better.

When they are calmer, after playing cards or drawing a picture
or yelling and screaming their anguish I usually ask them
“who did you help today?”
Repeat screamers and whining wailers have helped no one.
The more giving, wiser child knows that helping someone else is the quickest way to bring a bit of joy to your own suffering heart.

children who refuse to try helping another person are the saddest
they do know the joy of a giving heart or helping hands.
I keep encouraging, hoping they will come around.
Many of these children are so hurt, they cannot get outside themselves.
Their feelings are all encompassing.
They do not see the benefit of helping anyone.
Me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, they are screaming.
Sadly remaining joyless.

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