These are my kids, tucked into my heart, traveling an hour to and from school, who carry stories that break me, who have fought harder than I'll ever understand for this moment. When they hold that diploma and have their chosen college's sweatshirt draped over their shoulders, I defy anyone to hold back tears. One girl, Ayana, is dyslexic. She entered MATCH with a 4th grade reading level, and used to ask me to come in and work with her an hour before school a few days a week. That girl would sit there and read her history text or essay out loud with me, pushing herself relentlessly. That girl is going to Loyola University this fall. She was valedictorian.