“I imagine they’re dealing with an awful lot.”

On the way home, I drove past Cedar Creek Middle School.

Cars were pulling into the faculty lot.

Students were heading through the front doors, backpacks swinging from their shoulders as if it were an ordinary Tuesday.

The science-wing ramp lay beyond the main building, out of view.

I had passed that school hundreds of times without noticing how far a child might have to travel to get from one classroom to another.

That evening, Owen came through the door in his work boots, prepared to hear that our son had broken a rule.