A tragedy yesterday at the parole office where I teach remedial education classes. One of my favorite students, nicknamed “Rhino” for his wide and sturdy build, didn’t come to class, and he didn’t call to tell me he wasn’t coming, as was his usual custom. A fellow classmate found him yesterday morning, lying facedown on his bed in his parole-furnished motel room. He had passed away during the night from a heroin overdose, cutting his 39-year life very short.
Rhino was the one who, just two weeks ago, called me into the hallway, where he wept openly as he told me that he might not be able to attend his son’s continuation high school graduation because of parole restrictions. His son was the first one in the family to ever graduate from high school. George was ecstatic when it turned out that he was able to go to the graduation after all. Two days ago, George had brought his son’s printed graduation program to class to show me his name.
