"My girl America's dying while she's trying just to stop this fight"

There are few things more depressing than Kensington when it rains. Trash flows into the gutters causing back ups and puddles of dirty water. The dilapdated houses sag with damp roofs, and the EL casts darker shadows from the gray sky as it thunders above. The homeless addicts huddle against St. Francis Inn waiting for the Priests to open the gates. Even the brightness of the pink building which houses my school seems dull against the rain and clouds.

Today the somber mood filtered from the outside into the building. Three boys were killed this weekend in a deadly hit and run http://www.philly.com/philly/hp/news_update/13761252.html. One of them, a former student at MBA, all of them friends or family of students that I teach. The common misconception about where I teach is that violence is so prevalent in the community that students have been desensitized to tragedy. The thing is, they're not. Yes, shootings happen, they fight, they cause each other pain, but they are still kids. They still cry when death happens so close to them, and it's hard to see. There is nothing wise a teacher can say to students that are greiving a tragic loss. There are only trite expressions of sympathy, and futile attempts to express that you know how it feels to lose someone to drunk driving. There is only the quiet resignation of letting a student cry and patting a shoulder or offering a hug.

Kensington in the rain leaves me empty, cold, and exhausted.