On clear days, I often sit in my family room and gaze out the window at the Catalina Mountains that rise to the north of Tucson. Where my house located, I can stand in the front yard and see all the way to the other side of the city and beyond, if I look to the west. However, if I look north, the mountains obstruct my view and I cannot see beyond the towering peaks to the other side. I know beyond Mount Lemmon, the San Pedro River Valley lies below. But, from where I stand, I can't see it. Daily, I struggle to love teenagers that many would deem unlovable. From the girl who consistently tries to cause trouble to the boy who bouncs off the walls in the hallways, there are many kids around me displaying very unlovable traits. Sometimes, I find myself watching intently a student that irritates me as she moves through the school, disturbing and angering those with whom she comes into contact. I look for a reason to love her, to show her some kindness or even better, some mercy. I'll debate what I'll say and then look for an opportunity to compliment her. When the moment is right, I call her to me and tell her that I like her outfit or that I heard she did well on her latest Algebra test. For a moment, she's stunned. And then suddenly, her face lights up and she smiles. For the rest of the day whenever I see her, she's the model student, sharing in class and leaving the fighting words behind. To me, working with teenagers is a gift I've been given and I don't ever want to take for granted the authority that's been handed to me by virtue of my position. It's easy to look at teenagers as a whole, instead of the individuals they are. They aren't always displaying their lovable traits out there in the open for the world to see. Like the valley beyond the mountains, they're there. One just has to believe in the things they can't readily see.