School begins at 9, still early for teenagers, but at least they are getting two extra hours of sleep. Early arrivals make bagels or eat fried eggs one of the teachers cooks up each morning. The building is small, and it takes perhaps a minute to go from the kitchen to the rectangular dojang where they sit meditation.
  Two tall, deep windows illuminate the altar along the wall opposite. Meditation cushions line the other walls. I sit just to the left of the altar and instruct the students to write their intentions on the slip of paper provided. It is meant to awaken a connection to the previous week and to underline the practical nature of their efforts in school.  It should create a little tension and hover a little while they sit. Over the course of the semester, most students have begun to use the exercise and write down intentions that are modest and concrete. One student still refuses to do it at all, but he refuses to meditate as well.
   But then, this is something the student and I occasionally talk about, and when we do, I try to make sure that the conversation is one where his experience and reasoning is paramount. This may be a very small step towards mindfulness, but a consequential one. Some students need to assert themselves, and this is where they are at. I think, at bottom, the quiet start to the day still makes a difference.