Unlucky

What a shitty day. I've always belived that when it comes to things like luck, the Leperchauns passed me over--and I'm Irish.
My lesson plan with the Sophomores today included a pre-write on the importance of family in influencing our lives--positively and negatively. We would be reading "This is What it Means to Say Phoenix, Arizona" by Sherman Alexie. The story begins with Victor learning that his father had passed away.
In the first set of Sophomores, I noticed a young man sitting with the text closed. Realizing that this was more than just obstinance on his part, I asked, "Is there a reason why you don't want to read today?"
He nodded his head yes.
"Well, would you like to share that reason with me?"
He openned his planner to today's date and there, scribbled in pencil: R.I.P. Papi.
Shit.
Then in the following period, I noticed another student agititated during the writing prompt. He went to the bathroom. When he returned, I handed him the text and gave him the instructions. He sat down, openned the text and began reading. Thirty seconds later, he slams the packet to the ground, storms out of the classroom and slams the door behind him.
I received an e-mail from the school's psychologist later in the day. He informed me of some real bad family events taking place in the kid's life.
Shit, shit.