Dear One Direction

Over the past two months, I've had the pleasure of working with an amazing group of kids at my summer job as a special education tutor. Sure, some of them mumble curse words under their breath when I ask them to get to work or prefer digging in their heels than their pencils - but these kids are brave and kind and true. On my first day, I found myself in a room full of blank faces, not sure where to turn. But as soon the girls discovered that I knew that "One Direction" meant something more than a point on a compass, I knew what I had to do.

Driving to work on my second morning, I was prepared: my iPhone was full of every album One Direction has ever released, my mug full of thick, black coffee and my heart itching to make a difference.

Over the past two months, I've learned so much. I've learned that being a teacher is both the most difficult and most rewarding job I can imagine. I've learned all the lyrics to Story of My Life and how to dance in the driver's seat without running someone over. And I've learned that when you care about something, when something makes your eyes light up and your pen move faster, you have to hold on tight until your whole world is made of that feeling. Even if that something is a British boy band.

Especially if that something is a British boy band.

I asked five students - five girls who are at once precious and determined and made of tougher stuff than I've ever seen - to write a letter to their idols. They looked at me like I was crazy. And then they got to work.

I've never seen these girls care so much about something as small as a sheet of paper. They practiced their handwriting for days. They researched fan-mail addresses and quotes from their favorite songs. They taught me how to spell the names of their heroes (Harry, Liam, Niall, Zayn and Louis, by the way). And they wrote.

Their letters went way beyond "Dear One Direction." Yes, they mentioned their favorite songs. And yes, the words "hot" and "cute" and the more ambiguous "good looking" may have been thrown around on loose-leaf paper and pencil crayon. But they also wrote about themselves.

One wrote about her alcoholic mother, another about her struggles with bullying. Their lives have never been easy and they've never had anyone to share them with - until now. They put their gratitude on the page, thanking complete strangers for making them feel strong and good and beautiful. Their post-scripts were full of promises that five British lads (yes, lads) halfway across the world and busy with their own lives and dreams coming true may never be able to keep:

PS I'd love to see you in concert one day.
PS Please come to Canada soon!
PS Don't ever change.
PS I love you.
PS Please write back.

Today I'm putting these words and more in the mail. The girls decorated a manila envelope with hearts and swirls and the number one. I've included six copies of pictures, self-address envelopes and international postage coupons. I don't expect the girls to hold their breath. I know that when you're eleven or seventeen, your life moves quickly and in a year's time they may have trashed their CDs and moved on. But none of that matters, not really.

Sometimes the most important thing is putting this excitement, this thrill, this love into words and sharing them with the world.

Dear One Direction,

Thank you for these and all your little things.

Love, Erika