What Teaching Kids About Right And Wrong Really Costs[edit]
Listen, I’m not proud of everything. I used to think the cost of teaching kids right from wrong was just time. Wrong. It’s the whole damn thing.
Back when I was still in the game, I could’ve been making serious money on the corner. Instead, I’m here, late nights grading papers while my kids sleep, watching the clock tick past midnight. I gave up the easy cash, the respect from the crew that used to call me "Meyer," the peace of not having to explain why I’m not where I should be. My old homies? They don’t get it. They see me as a sellout. "You soft now," they say. And yeah, I am. Soft enough to care when a kid chooses a scholarship over a fight. Soft enough to cry when they finally trust me.
What did I gain? Not the flashy stuff. It’s the quiet moments: a kid looking me dead in the eye after a fight and saying, "I got it this time." It’s seeing them walk into a college office instead of a corner. It’s knowing I didn’t just survive my own mess—I’m helping them not make it. That’s the real currency. Not the money I gave up, but the weight I lifted off their shoulders.
Was it worth it? Hell yes. But don’t think it’s easy. It costs you your old life. It costs you sleep. It costs you the easy answers. You trade the roar of the hood for the quiet hum of a classroom, and sometimes you wonder if you’re just chasing ghosts. But then you see a kid you mentored get his first job, and you know: this cost is the only one that matters.
You’re not too far gone. Not if you’re willing to pay the price. The cost isn’t in the money—it’s in the courage to choose a different path, every single day.
— Francisco Meyer, walking a different path