I have a lot I could say, but there have been a few incidences that have touched me so deeply that I need to continue to remind myself of. Of course, they are to do with my kindergartners. On my last day with them I brought them each a bag filled with a few things that every 5 year old should have. Nothing expensive or over the top, and nothing that was anything to get particularly excited about. As I passed out each bag to each child, they were ecstatic. It was so precious to see them eagerly wait for me to tap on their shoulder and tell them it was in fact their turn to get their little present. One little girl, Kitana, was particularly excited. When it was her turn she expressed to me through gasps of joy that she had something special for me in her backpack. The entire time she kept saying that she knows I am going to love the gift she has for me and that she can’t wait to give it to me.
I’m not going to lie here, but the first thing that came to my mind was Panera Bread gift card. Perfect gift. I knew that Kitana’s gift to me would not be that, or anything close to that, because like all of the children in that classroom, she was below the poverty line. As her and I walked to her cubby to exchange gifts, she insisted that she give me her gift first and that I close my eyes. I stood there with my eyes closed for a very long time as Kitana wrestled with some sort of plastic bag. Finally she told me to open up my hand and my eyes. As I did so, she emptied a plastic bag labeled “Miss Abel” on it into my hand, and a nickel and 3 pennies came out. I have opened hundreds of gifts in my life, but I can tell you that none of them have brought me as much joy as that 8 cents did. She gave me something so special to her, something she has limited amounts of and gave it to me. It wasn’t even the fact that she gave me a few cents, but the fact that she took the time to find it, label a baggy, and keep it in her backpack for a week was what completely touched my heart. She was thrilled when she let the coins dump into my hand, and I was just as thrilled. I hugged her and expressed my happiness, and as I hugged her little body she whispered in my ear with her slight lisp, “I just knew you would love it.”
I learned so much through these children. So much more than what I can even begin to type on here. Something important that I realized through this was that if we can show people that we care about them and that what hurts them hurts us, we can make an impact. Even if we are only with them for a month, and even if we only can spare a few moments to sit and talk to them, they won’t forget. I know that I won’t forget them, and I even put that 8 cents Kitana gave me in a special cup in my room so that I would remember that there is a need out there, and we need to go out and do whatever we can to fill it.
So, I leave you with a picture of these kindergartners (minus three of them) on our last day together…
...and with a great story I read from the book, “50 Things That Really Matter”:Saying “I Love You”
When I was in college, a man named Henry worked as a custodian in our student union building. White-haired, with a Pennsylvania Dutch accent, Henry could usually be seen in a baseball cap, a T-shirt, and a pair of jeans with a big silver-belt buckle.
He was the custodian, and he was the most respected and most well-known person in the building. Everyone loved Henry, and it was because of all the subtle ways he expressed his love for everyone around him. Henry didn’t have to say, “I love you.” He lived his love.
Henry was always excited when he met someone new, and he wanted to know everything about them. He felt it was important for too do things for people he valued. And Henry seemed to value everyone he met. He brought in articles or cartoons for certain people, went out of his way to introduce people to each other, kept track of dozens of names and birthdays in his wallet so he could send cards, and helped students keep in touch with graduates who had written him. He even discreetly assisted students who didn’t have enough money to buy their books.
Henry taught me-and many others he befriended-how to live life to the fullest. Not by skydiving or exploring some exotic country, but by appreciating where you are in life and valuing those around you.
The funny thing is that despite all he did and taught us, Henry truly believed that he was the lucky one-that he was the one who was gaining so much by getting to know us. But all of us who remember Henry know that we were the ones who were truly blessed.
We will never forget the man who taught us that the best way to say “I love you” often has little to do with the words.
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Okay, that little boy, the third one from the right, has GOT to be the little brother of a boy that was in my class because they are practically twins (at different sizes, of course).
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