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Samuel is my newest student. He told me he was living in a car with his mom but his parole agent would not accept that as a primary residence. So he is at our residential rehab for an address, not for drug addiction. Sam told me his mom, who still lives in the car, is an alcoholic. He also told me he is a hopeless kleptomaniac. He especially loves high-end markets. A gourmet selection of goodies increases his chance of offending. For Sam, stealing itself is a high — very addictive and almost impossible to stop. His “jacket,” a list of his criminal convictions, is riddled with petty theft. Sam is tall and handsome with a long brunette ponytail. He looks like the boy next door who surfs. He told me he can’t read, which is not entirely true. He has a third-grade reading level. Hopefully he will stick around long enough to get some help in my school. Half the battle will be raising his self-esteem. Sam seems quite depressed. I’ve yet to see him smile. He eagerly awaited his mother’s arrival yesterday while he worked on the classroom computer. She was coming to drop off some of his clothes. I asked him, “Don’t you want to wait outside so you won’t miss her?”  “No,” he said, “she will ask for me.” Sam checked with the front desk to see if his mother had come by. She had made a delivery but did not ask for him. Sam came back to school and signed out for the day. He was pretty upset.