October 2026

As of this fall, I’ve been facilitating at Camp Kilpatrick, a juvenile detention site for girls, for a year. I’ve written before about how these girls stick to my heart. They are willful, angry, hilarious, sweet, challenging, brilliant, and so full of love and life.

Throughout the year I kept meeting one student again and again. One week she was in Unit E; the next, she had moved to Unit G. When she wasn’t in a unit where we were teaching, she would stop us in the courtyard and ask what we had in our bags, curious, nosy, needy. I started referring to her as a magpie: always collecting shiny things, always looking for something to fill her cup, always wanting more.

Some days, her energy was so high she seemed to be bouncing off the walls. Other days, she was so unfocused and impatient that we could barely get a word in. One week, she sat with us on the basketball court and was so disrespectful to us that another student almost cried. We took it in stride. She was there. She was listening. We hoped she was getting something from being with us.

Another week, she was basically the only student who wanted to participate. So I handed her my prop microphone and some question cards, and we pretended she had her own late-night talk show.

At our final celebration, we brought planters for the students to paint. Everyone, including her, sat together, chatted, and worked quietly, even her. At one point, she asked why my co-facilitator Sarah and I didn’t have planters. I explained that they were for the students. She insisted that she wanted us to be part of the project, too, and asked me to sit next to her and help her paint hers.

This is a young woman who has spent years in the foster system. She is 15 years old, and, on her release, she has nowhere to go.

The last time I saw her was at a special event at the camp. A group of girls was sitting outside the gym when I spotted her. She mouthed to me that they were sending her to a different county.

I ducked back inside and grabbed a business card so she would have my information.

When I came back out, the group gathered around me—wanting, waiting, curious, needy.

“Can I have a card too?” they all asked.

I caught my student’s eye and said quietly, “Please get in touch with us when you’re settled.”

She said she would.

I hope she does.