Today was different than other days. It wasn’t because the bus took an extra twenty minutes to arrive, or because the shy man who cleans the school quietly said, “hello” when I walked in the front door. It wasn’t because I didn’t have class today, or because there was a fierce snowstorm outside, no doubt remnants of the Big Eastern Seaboard Storm coughing out the last bits of a winter’s fury.

Today was different because we found out that a student passed away yesterday. The student was very young, energetic, vibrant, and as far as I could tell, well liked. I walked into work this morning to a group of instructors standing together, brows furrowed, eyes downcast, deep in discussion.

One of the students, upon hearing the news, locked himself in one of the offices and had to be quietly cajoled to unlock the door. In the hallway, groups of students stood together, eyes red and stained with tears.

There was little in the way of classes today, for many of the students.

Death is never easy. A creative soul extinguished far too early is an unjust, cruel thing.

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