I was finishing my evening rounds at the school where I worked as a janitor when I heard quiet sobbing from the girls’ restroom. I didn’t want to embarrass whoever was inside, so I gently made my presence known and asked if everything was alright. A teenage girl slowly opened the stall door, her eyes red and hands trembling.
She insisted she was fine, but it was clear she was struggling. I sat on the tiled floor nearby, mop resting against the wall, and told her she didn’t have to explain anything unless she wanted to. After a long pause, she admitted that other students laughed at her, judged her, and made her feel invisible.
I listened without interrupting, reminding her that no one deserves to feel that way and that her worth was not defined by others’ opinions. When she finally left, she whispered a quiet thank you, and I hoped that our short conversation had eased her burden, even slightly.
Continue reading…
