Reading eighth-graders’ journals is like jumping in a time machine: all the angst, all the broken hearts, all the frustration with school. I see myself a thousand times over. Bored with this. Frustrated about that. Irritated with him. In love with her.

“Nothing new under the sun.”

They’ll find this out for themselves. But when I leave comments in their journal, how can I say this without being dismissive? It’s a fine line.