Soon after the hurricane, I learned from the school counselor that a boy named S. would be joining my Advisory. “S. is a Katrina refugee,” I was told. “He was in Houston, and now he’s here.” That year, I didn’t serve S. well, and he floundered, and we exchanged maybe 100 words back and forth, because he was in trauma, and despite my attempts, and the resources the school offered, I didn’t know what to do. And then S. was gone.