The class gets so quiet, it’s scary. “I was ten years old and brushing her teeth, feeding her oatmeal like a baby. She cried all the time. Last year, she finally came to. Got up one day, went and bought a sewing machine, and started making clothes. Ain’t never sewed nothing before. Just started, day and night, sewing.”

Some kids at the back of the room start to snicker and make smart remarks. Shut up, I’m thinking. Just shut up.

“The more she sewed them clothes, the better she got. She started picking up after herself. Got a job and all. No, ain’t nothing good come from loving somebody so much you can’t live without ‘em,” I say. “No good at all.”