i remember max part 4...

This is the final part of a story that began on Tuesday - please read the posts from the beginning if you are getting here for the first time.  Start here and scroll up, thanks.

I carefully opened the wad of tissue - 2nd graders pockets are not the cleanest of places.
This is what I found.
A shell...

and a baseball card thingy...

a worn and weathered religous medal...

and this little rubber martian fella...

I collapsed in a pool of overwhelming emotions.  It was the most generous gift I have ever received. 

I was surrounded by dozens of roses and boxes of the best chocolates, gift cards and elegance which I greatly appreciated.  Just because people have the money to buy things doesn't mean they have to.  Money does not equal generosity and thoughtfullness.  So many families took time out of their busy lives to think of me, to go out and make the effort to purchase, wrap and bring me a gift and don't think I didn't appreciate that because I really did.  It's just that Max had nothing to give and nobody to help him but he wanted to bring me something.  Poor Max thought he had nothing to offer, how wrong he was.  He possibly gave almost all he had.

Max waited until everyone was gone to pull out that wad of tissue.  I can't stand the thought that he might have been embarrassed at it's lackluster appearance.  Still, he found the courage to give it to me, he left the classroom but then turned and came back in.  I imagined him looking through his room and collecting these things for me.  Were they his treasures?  Did he have anything left?  Where did he get that shell?  Did he have other baseball thingys?  Who had given him the medallion and what of the martian?  I bawled my freakin' eyes out.

This little collection of things is very special to me and even after all the moves and the major purging when we decided to become more "minimal", they are here.  They will always be here with me.

I am certain those children don't remember me.  Why would some lady who was their 2nd grade teacher for only a few short months cross the mind of a teenager?  I don't know if I will always remember them and truthfully most of their names (though not their faces) escape me now, except Max.

Nope, not Max.
Max I will always remember. 
The life I was trying to make a difference in.
I thought I was ready for him. 
I was not.

i remember max part 3...

This is part of a story that started Tuesday - please start from the beginning here and scroll up, thanks.

The school where I was teaching was filled with mostly upper middle class families. Also, many fairly wealthy but for the most part, upper middle. There were a few students who came from families not in these two groups. These were families the church sponsored for one reason or another (Catholic School). Max was from one of these families. As far as I knew, Max had a brother, a mother and not much of anything else.

Sometimes I would wonder how his mother could send him to school in an obviously not washed uniform and with no lunch. I would ask myself how she could not know he was coming to school hungry because he had eaten no breakfast and brought no lunch. The cafeteria ladies let him "swing by" every morning for a snack and he was not asked for a ticket in the lunch line. I would remind myself she was probably doing the best she could as a single working mother with 2 sons and she did go through the effort of getting him into this "better" school and I comforted myself with that.

Still, at times, I wondered what his home life was like. I had 36 children in my classroom so letting my mind wander about Max was a luxury time did not often afford. To make myself feel better, I paid the dues and bought him a uniform so he could join boy scouts. I secretly bought Max a new bike when his was stolen. I asked him to "look out for Daniel" (the smallest boy in class) on the playground. You know what? He did. He really did. I didn't have much more trouble with him than some of the other students and I felt perhaps I was making a difference in Max's life. Still, he rarely spoke.

"Happy Birthday" he said and walked away.

"What could possibly be in here?" I thought as I opened up that wad of tissue.

The final part of this story will post tomorrow. I'm finally going to open that tissue I promise!

i remember Max part 2...

This is part 2 of a story that began yesterday - please read part 1 first here.

My birthday came about a month into the school year. It was an an embarrasment of riches. Flowers and gifts filled the room, the parents came and I was made to wear a crown (can't say I hated that). They brought all measure of baked goods and sang and we had quite the party. Full of all my vast wonderfulness by the end of the day and trying to figure out how to carry all the presents to my car, Max wandered back into my now empty classroom.

I sat at my desk, surrounded by tokens of appreciation, and watched him walk, head down, to my desk.

"What's up Max?" I asked but got no reply.

Max reached down into his pocket, pulled out a balled up tissue and placed it on my desk, then he did something he rarely ever did, Max looked me straight in the eye.


"Happy Birthday" he said, then Max turned and walked away.

I was not prepared for that ball of tissue, not in the least.

to be continued tomorrow...

i remember max...

I've had many jobs - restaurants, resorts, design studio, large corporation etc. etc.  Somewhere in this crazy mix is the job teacher.  Through a rather odd series of events, I was a 2nd  grade homeroom teacher  at a small private school here in Phoenix.  I was only there a few short months but I adored the children - adored them.  Second graders are lovely.  They are still excited to learn, they push their hands into the air, frantically wiggling and reaching for the sun as they plead with you to call their name for an answer.

I have not seen those children in 10 years.  They are in high school now and around this time of year, I think of them.  You can almost guess how they turned out because even as early as 2nd grade, people are marked.  There were the social butterflies, the outcasts, the athletes, the artists, the quirky ones, the struggling students, the little Einsteins and in my classroom, there was Max.  Red hair, freckles, thick bones, shirt half untucked, messy haired Max.  Prior to the start of school, I was given notes on Max - he already had a little bit of a reputation for trouble, possibly a bully.  I was a strict parent and a very strict, but I hope fun, teacher.  I was prepared for Max.  I thought I had his number.

to be continued tomorrow...