I Came Home to Find 50 People Holding Candles Outside My House—Then I Learned Why They Were Really There

joy had slowly drained out of him.

Three weeks earlier, he had come home, sat at this same kitchen table, and quietly said:

“I think I’m done.”

I remember staring at him.

“Done with what?”

“Teaching.”

The word sounded impossible.

Teaching wasn’t his job.

It was his identity.

Yet the sadness in his eyes told me he meant it.

For months he had been wrestling with continue reading …