I find it interesting that my knee and foot injuries both occurred on a Wednesday when I tutored Deedee. I'm not normally a superstitious person, but it's fun to speculate and shiver at coincidences. It shifts the blame from my own foolish actions (wearing dangerously cute shoes and taking too much pain medicine), plus I get to call Deedee "The Cursed One" in this spooky voice I stole from The Secret of NIMH. "Go to the LEEEEE of the STOOOOONE!"

My blue-brown foot is the third injury of the last two months. I hadn't mentioned the second one involving Deedee, because it's just now been resolved. It was much more serious than either of mine, and I've spent a lot of time fretting over it and feeling like I should do something.

A few weeks ago, Deedee was late to our session. It struck me as unusual, but I used the time to scarf down my tutoring energy snack and get the materials out. I was reading a book and eating sour straws rich in red-40 and formaldehyde when Deedee rushed in and immediately asked if she could go to the bathroom. I hardly had time to glance at her as she made a beeline for the elevator.

I savored a few more pages of my book. Deedee came back to our table, scraped back a chair, and sat. Book closed, I looked up and greeted her. Something was very wrong. Her lip was split and bleeding. My face must have broken in alarm, because her chin began to quiver.

"What happened?" I asked her.

Her shoulders began to shake, eyes filling with tears. Between gasps, she explained that she'd been running late to tutoring and had to run from her apartment building to our spot. When she'd flung open the swinging main door to get outside, it immediately swung back and hit her in the face. This might seem kind of Three Stooges and funny, but this was a heavy door to an apartment building. Not something you'd want to hit you in the face or on the ass as you make your way out. I'd thought Deedee had been in a fight or something. With Mike Tyson.

"And I broke my tooth," Deedee said. This was clearly the hardest thing for her to say. I swallowed hard to maintain a semblance of calm. The last thing she needed was me freaking out.

"Okay, let me see," I replied. "It's okay."

One of her front teeth was half gone at a diagonal. I couldn't help wincing.

"Have you called your mom yet?" I asked as I got out my cell phone.

Then Deedee really lost it. She didn't want to tell her parents. I think she thought she'd get in trouble for running late and for consequently rushing and injuring herself.

I agreed to call her house. I knew it might be difficult. Her mom doesn't speak much English and might flip out, so I was hoping Deedee wouldn't die of heartbreak in the next few minutes.

When Deedee's mom answered the phone, I explained what happened and that I'd be fine walking Deedee home. It was decided that Deedee's dad would come over and assess the situation. Meanwhile, Deedee and I should explore the nuances of grammar. I spent those long minutes before her dad came over assuring her that she'd be okay, it wasn't her fault, I was really sorry she was hurt, and that I wouldn't ever mind waiting a few minutes for her if she were running late.

Seeing her in distress broke my heart. I wanted to do something, but I had few words. I was really worried about the tooth. It had to hurt, and it looked awful.

"Amanda, is my tooth going to grow back? Please tell me it's going to grow back," Deedee pleaded.

Oh, how I wished it would. "It's a permanent tooth, so it's the only one you have," I told her "It can't grow back, but you can get it fixed by a dentist. Do you have a dentist you go to?"

Deedee shrugged; I felt sick. If Deedee's parents couldn't take her to the dentist to get the tooth fixed, I didn't know what to do. Am I in any place to take responsibility for something like that? It seems like something that isn't any of my business, but I want Deedee to be happy and well-adjusted and healthy. And as superficial as it may sound, that wouldn't happen if she had to spend the rest of her foreseeable future with a broken front tooth.

Deedee's dad arrived shortly and decided that she was well enough to finish the tutoring session. I argued politely, explaining it was no problem if she wanted to go home. He insisted, exerting fatherly dominance I couldn't translate.

I spent the rest of the session trying not to look at the tooth and being hyper-positive. I think Deedee saw right through it. She kept her hand over her mouth most of the time, until she got really excited about a Ray Bradbury story and forgot about her self-consciousness.

Deedee had gone to the dentist by the next week I saw her. She'd been told she'd need a root canal. Her tooth had crumbled even more at a diagonal. She was in a lot of pain due to nerve damage.

A week later, Deedee's dad reported that his insurance plan wouldn't cover any of the dental care Deedee needed. She seemed comfortable with her new look, but maybe that was just around me. I spent nights at home wondering how I could suggest paying for Deedee's dental bills in part or total. If I could even afford to do such a thing. How could an insurance provider not cover a root canal? I consulted some people who'd had similar dental procedures perfomed.

Last week, Deedee missed tutoring due to a dentist appointment. I tried to get all the information I could on the phone with her mom, but couldn't tell if she'd been given a permanent crown or what.

I finally saw some sort of resolution yesterday. As I walked in, Deedee waved. She smiled and I saw it - one front tooth that looked exactly like the other. I beamed. It's not a permanent fix, because the dentist wants to wait three months before putting a permanent crown on the stump of tooth left. Something about Deedee's young bones needing to recover. I'm just so happy that Deedee doesn't have to deal with the questions and stares she's probably been getting since the accident.

This whole experience really made me think about how close I am to the kids I tutor. Earlier this week, Borun started to tear up over this newspaper article we read. I was really surprised, as he has been taught to be so thoughtful and stoic. Jing has confessed she's afraid of getting her period, among other very personal anxieties about growing up. My new kid, Jeffrey, and I don't have a deep relationship at this point, but we could get there.

I'm honored to be a part of these kid's lives. In this hazy role, I'm not a parent or a friend, but I'm certainly not just a tutor. It feels so good to have people to care about who aren't family or friends my age or someone with whom I'm romantically involved. The kids I tutor have made my life - and schedule - complicated and unexpectedly richer.