..knowing I'm not alone can really help. Believe me." Kids need to know that they are not alone, whether it's when they are faced with racial discrimination, or being subjected to unfathomable hell at the hands of sick adults.

Fifteen-year-old Ashley, the protagonist of my book, makes this statement about censorship in response to the events of a school board meeting, held to discuss her stepmother's use of the Chris Crutcher book, Ironman, to teach literary response in her summer school English II class. A hyper-conservative group led by a local pastor is up in arms about elements in Crutcher's book, including racism, homophobia, and sexual abuse in the family of one of the characters. Like Chris Crutcher, my book also deals with the world as it is, not as some people wish it is. Hey, I wish for a perfect world too, okay? Don't we all?

I am a teacher of English as a Second Language to children from Mexico. They are fifth graders.
Even in fifth grade, racial slurs are casually tossed; grenades thrown by children who have no idea what they're throwing around. In the last two days, I have dealt with my kids being called "Wetbacks" by one group of white kids, and being accused of using profanity by another group of non-Spanish speakers, who did not understand what was being said and assumed it was, (1) "nasty words" and (2) being said about them.
These incidents make me sad. And angry. And I don't stand for them. I am willing to make waves, `a la doing a cannonball off the diving board into the deep end of a formerly calm pool. I am willing to stand up for my kids and for what is right.

In our local news, there is the story of a six-year-old girl who was sexually assaulted, then hung in the garage of her family's home. The mom's boyfriend is under arrest for possession of child pornography, although not yet formally charged with the murder of the little girl. He was charged, 12 years ago, with sexually assaulting a fifteen-year-old girl, although he was not convicted. Right after the murder of the little girl, a neighbor of the mother was on TV, saying that the mother was inconsolable, asking, "Why my baby? Why my baby?"
Not to belittle her grief in any way, but I can't help but think, "Woman, you brought that man into your home, into your child's life. Did you not see the signs? Did you not notice your six-year-old's behavior change as this man began inflicting his sickness upon her?"
This, too, makes me sad. And angry. And I wish it was as simple to fix as to say, "I won't stand for it." But I will stand up for kids like that six-year-old, as well as other kids who may be living in hell at the hands of adults.
So, how do I do that? Take to the streets with a sign reading, "Sexual abuse sucks. Stop it!" Well, if I thought it would help, believe me, I'd do it.
Having personally known children who were sexually abused, I can tell you that they often feel as if they are alone. I wrote Courage in Patience, in part, to let them know that they are not. That there is hope. That they are stronger than they ever thought possible. That the feelings and thoughts they have are not crazy.

I told the boys who were taunting my students that if I heard of them calling my kids "Wetbacks" again, they'd better start praying, because God would be the only one who could help them by the time I got through with them. I even made one of them cry. At the least, I am pretty sure that I made an impression he will not soon forget.

I can't stop sexual abuse. And I don't have all the answers about God, so I really don't know what He does with people who sexually abuse children, although I could definitely offer some creative ideas as to what I think should be their fate.
But I can write. And it is through writing that I hope to make a difference to those children whom I dedicated Courage in Patience:
"For children who yearn for a peaceful night's sleep. It may not seem like it right now, but you are not alone. Remember that."