I walked slowly toward them with my hands open. “Mrs. Medina, I am Mr. Rivera, Lucas’s teacher,” I said. “I am not here to cause trouble. I am only here because I care about your son.” She held Lucas tightly against her side. “If you tell the school, they will take him,” she whispered. “We have been on our own for four months. I lost my apartment when they cut my hours.”

I looked at the towels in the windows and the little toddler in the back seat, and a lump rose in my throat. “Mrs. Medina,” I said gently, “will you let me help you? I promise I will not do anything without your permission.” She stared at me for a long time. Then Lucas whispered, “Mama, he gave me his pencil case once.”