Ray Davis describes his years in third through fifth grade plainly: behavior issues, family problems, DCFS involvement, and time in foster care. Separated from his mother and his sisters for stretches of a year or two. He doesn't dramatize it.

"I just wanted to be home," he says. "I wanted to stay in one place."

He moved through several schools trying to find the right environment — including a behavior school he believes was in Metropolis, and Ward in Du Quoin, where he landed twice. What he remembers about Ward isn't the structure. It's that the teachers seemed to understand what was actually going on with him.

"I feel like they knew I wasn't just a bad kid," he says. "I was going through stuff."

He also met Maddox Hunter there — a kid he still thinks of as basically an older brother.

By sixth grade, Ray was being transported from Carbondale to Du Quoin, living with his Aunt Jennifer, slowly earning his way back into a regular school schedule — more time in sixth grade, less time at Ward, working a point system to transition out. By seventh grade, the case closed. His mom got full rights. He and his sisters moved to Du Quoin together.

"It was awesome," he says.

But even after all of that, it took one more moment for something to fully click. He was at home with his sister Arnold — whose birthday falls two days before his — and he got mad over something small. The anger rose, and then just as fast, it fell apart on him.

"What's the point of being angry and upset — when I have everything I want, everything I need?"

That was it. From there, things went up.

He got into football freshman year. Made the team, started playing, loved it. Then over that summer, he tore his ACL. Spent the whole summer bedridden, barely talking to anyone. And then one day, still recovering, he reacted to a random person's post on BeReal — a social media app where you just show what you're actually doing. Her name was Alyssa White. He doesn't quite know how to explain what happened after that.

"I don't really know what happened," he says. "She became my girlfriend sophomore year."

Two and a half years later, she's Miss Du Quoin. Her mom, Amanda White — a teacher Ray describes as one of the kindest people he's ever met — helped rebuild his drive and his thinking about his future.

He re-injured his knee in his sophomore year. Another strain, another setback. His body kept telling him sports wasn't the road. So junior year, he started asking a different question.

It came in the shower, as those things do. He'd always been called a nice person. Kids at family gatherings would leave the adults and wander over to him for no particular reason. He'd never especially sought it out, but it kept happening.

He took an intro to teaching class with Ms. Morris. Joined Educators Rising and became vice president. Started tutoring. Came back senior year as president. Attended a John A. Logan conference specifically focused on getting Black men into teaching — went to a breakout session led by a counselor who became one of the best speakers he'd ever heard. Got recruited by a woman at the conference who wants him to help start an Ed Rising chapter at the college level.

"Everything just felt aligned," he says.

He came back to football his senior year, too, and actually got to play — with a coach, Coach Luthy, who believed in him. He was voted homecoming king.

He's been accepted to every college he applied to, earned scholarships, and is leaning toward SIU Edwardsville to study education, with his eye on special ed.

When he tries to explain what kind of teacher he wants to be, the words almost get there, and then he holds up.

"I just want to be someone's why," he says.

He's a senior at Du Quoin High School. He came through DCFS, foster care, Ward, two torn-up knees, and a year he spent barely leaving his room. He got homecoming king. He's going to college on scholarships.

There are other kids whose story starts the way his did. He knows that. He's planning on it.