The Backpack Drop Zone: One Sixth-Grade Truth That Exposed Our Quiet Crisis

“No money. No food. Not in the bag.”

Groans.

Tommy muttered, “Of course.”

“But,” I continued, “this will still be the Drop Zone. You can still leave notes.”

Their faces shifted.

Hope again.

“But this time,” I said, “the notes go to me and the counselor. Together. We will help. Quietly.”

Sarah raised her hand. “What if we don’t want help? What if we just continue reading …