Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from The Outsiders, only the one new teacher I've created.
I sat at the desk in my classroom, rubbing my eyes tiredly. If I had to read one more theme about getting a new pet or "what I did over my summer vacation," I thought I just might scream. But then I saw the next paper in my stack, and my eyes widened. He'd turned it in. I hadn't expected that.

Ponyboy hadn't been in my class very long. He'd switched in from Mr. Symes' class after he came back to school because he'd been pretty far behind in his work after all the school he'd missed, and my class was paced differently. But I knew that wasn't the only reason he was suddenly in my charge. I have a reputation for listening and for getting my students to open up, and I knew everyone was hoping I'd have success with Ponyboy. I was hoping that too. I liked him already. I knew he liked Mr. Syme, but he was a respectful kid. Even though he'd probably have preferred to stay in that class, he seemed to be adjusting ok even though he didn't talk much.

I knew Pony had been having a rough time of it lately – there weren't many people who didn't know what was going on with him. It was plastered all over the newspapers. And when I opened this theme, I released a deep breath. I knew this was something he'd needed to write. I could see it in his eyes. He needed a way to release everything that had been happening to him, everything I'd been reading about in the newspapers, and since I didn't really expect him to do much talking, I wasn't surprised to see it all come out here. I was just glad he was giving me a chance to read it. I knew it had been written with Syme in mind. Maybe he was starting to trust me too.

I didn't realize how long I'd been reading when I heard the radiators turn off. I looked up and realized it had gotten dark outside. I also realized that my eyes were having trouble focusing on the page, and it wasn't because I was tired. It was from the tears that had been obscuring my vision as I'd gotten closer to the end of this paper. I knew my students' lives weren't easy. Half of them were from the "other side of the tracks," but I didn't quite know how to deal with what Pony had written in here. Part of me wanted to stop reading; part of me wanted to adopt him, and part of me just wanted to talk to him. I knew that the only one of those that remained an option was the third. I would have to talk to him.

I forced myself to finish reading, and when I was done, I tentatively put my pen to the bottom of the last page, wondering how to express the experience I'd just had. Finally, I just started to write slowly.

Ponyboy – it's hard for me to know what to write here because this paper isn't like any I've read before. You have captured a time in your life that few people will ever experience, but you've captured it with honesty and sincerity. Thank you for letting me know just a little bit of what your life has been like. I'm so sorry for the hard times, but with a talent like yours, I can't imagine that things won't get better. Please know that I'm here, too, if you ever want to talk about any of this.

I put his paper at the bottom of the stack and looked at the few that remained. I should have saved Pony's for last because the rest would seem like meaningless drivel in comparison, but at least they'd go faster. I finished grading in record time and then drove home slowly, wondering what on earth I would say to Ponyboy tomorrow…