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...