I'd gotten the job almost exactly a year earlier. I'd be teaching 3- and 4-year-olds at a nonprofit center that specifically existed to serve the needs of the HIV population in the community. After my last job of formatting book catalogs (eight mind-numbing hours a day of clicking tab, control-B, control-I, return, space space space space over and over again), I couldn't wait to jump into a job that would mean something to someone, that would make a difference.

And at first, I loved it. I loved watching Marcos recognize the word "zoo" on a book after doing a pre-literacy activity I'd designed. I loved making crumbling cakes and pizza in the sandbox with Tracy. I loved pounding Play-Doh with Keisha and listening to her count the worms in the little family she'd rolled out. I loved laughing when the kids dressed up in high heels and feather boas and sat down to have "tea" with me.

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