I often think about the kids I worked with at the group home. I'm sure there were well over 100 and I only remain in contact with a few, so I often wonder what happened to them.

Malls and buses are two good places to find out. This morning I looked across the aisle and saw a very familiar looking, albeit 11 years older, face. It was a kid I used to work with, and at the time I knew her, I was scared for her. Disturbed is a word I don't like to use, but it's the only one I can think of that accurately sums up the sadness, hostility and lostness that seemed to encompass her.

She's now a health care aid, on the waiting list to get her LPN training. She has kids and it sounds like she was in a committed relationship with their dad, although they've separated now. We were talking about child care and she said her daughter was not liking her day care because there are some older kids "who swear and stuff." I had to laugh and explained that after so long, it was weird to hear her talking like that - she was very foul-mouthed. She said she knew, that sometimes she didn't think she'd ever get better. But she obviously has.

I'm not going to take credit for her transformation, that belongs to her. But I am going to hang on to this tiny thought that a little bit of what I tried to communicate to her about her worth and value got through.