Giving to the Max

She was a tall, big boned girl with masses of pitch black frizzy curls that framed her dirty face in an unkempt fashion. The combination of her pale skin and the trail of freckles across her nose hinted that her hair's midnight hue was by choice rather than by birth. Her clothes were usually ill-fitting and her scent brought to mind dusty attics filled with mice and mothballs. She was always alone and made sure she stayed that way with excentracies like picking lice from her hair in class and talking to herself as she walked through the high school corridors.

Her name was Mary, but everyone called her Scary Mary. She endured four years of teasing, taunting and pranks in my high school and never once acted like she cared or even noticed. I noticed though and it really bothered me. I tried to be nice to her, but she was like an island unto herself and I was an unwanted bridge to the world of adolescent chaos around her. She basically ignored my attempts at friendship the same way she ignored the cruelty of the other students. I never really stopped trying though. I would sit behind her in homemaking class (praying that I didn't get lice) while everyone else sat on the other side of the room. I would speak to her in the hall and occasionally asked her to join me at lunch. She never really responded to me, but I felt better for at least trying.

At some point in the midst of our journey through the world of high school dramatics a boy by the name of Matt broke my heart (or so I thought at the time). Shortly after I was seen crying over a hateful note he wrote me in Biology class, a sign showed up on Matt's locker. I won't repeat what it said here, because it wasn't nice, but Matt was furious with me and accused me of leaving the sign. I assured him I didn't do it, but he did not believe me. That sign was just the first of many and I was as baffled as he was as to who the culprit could be.

It wasn't until my Senior year when I asked Mary to sign my yearbook that I found out what really happened. I remember being shocked that she actually agreed to sign my yearbook and even more shocked at what she wrote inside. She said that I was the only friend she'd ever had and that if it had not been for me being nice to her she wouldn't have been able to make it through school. She then went on to tell me she was the one who had left all those signs on Matt's locker and that she did it to make him pay for making me cry.

I learned a big lesson from Mary that day. Actually the lesson came from my parents who always taught us to treat others the way we would want to be treated, but Mary really reinforced that lesson when she left me that note in my yearbook. I had no idea that my small acts of kindness (I really should have done more) had made such an impact on her life. It really helped me to see that even something as simple as a smile or a hello could help brighten someone's day or maybe even do more than that...maybe even give them a reason to keep trudging through the difficulties they faced in life.

That was fifteen years ago and this week at school I was reminded of Mary and the lesson she helped me learn all those years ago. Any teacher will tell you that there are children that get on our nerves. I wish I could say that we adore every minute that we spend with each and every one of them, but that would be a lie. I am not saying that we don't love them all. I know I do, but there are a few of them that really try my patience.

One such child is a first grader that we'll call Max. Max flat out wears me out. I have him only thirty minutes a day for a reading group and they are thirty of the longest minutes in my day. I find myself saying things like...

Max sit down.

Max stop touching her.

Max sit down.

Max put that up.

Max please follow along.

Max sit down.

Max do not put your boogers on my table.

Max do not put that booger back in your nose!

Max sit down.

Max.

Max.

Max.

I work with over fifty children so there is more than one Max in my life. I can honestly say that I always try to remain patient and loving with all the Maxes in my classes (try being the magic word). I may be dying to pull my hair out on the inside and longing for the wooden spoon that has warmed my own girl's backsides, but I do not let it show (too much). I have had to be very firm with Max (and those like him) on more than one occasion, but I do try to make sure they understand that I am doing it because I love them and I want what is best for them.

This past Friday I was walking down the hall when Max ran up and threw his arms around my legs. Then he looked up at me and said, "I am going to miss you sooooo much!" My first thought was that he was moving so I said, "Oh no, where are you going Max?" He just looked at me with a puzzled expression and said, "I'm not going anywhere. It's the weekend. I hate the weekends because I don't get to see you and I miss you." My heart melted. I hugged him back and told him I would miss him too.

As I watched him walk away I was reminded of Mary. There are so many kids like Mary and Max in the world. They don't quite fit into the mold of 'normalcy' that we have been conditioned to expect, but that doesn't mean that don't need love and acceptance just as much as the rest of us. In fact, I am quite certain that many times they need it even more.

I am grateful to Max for reminding me that my actions can make a difference. On any given day my smile may be the only smile directed a child's way...my arms may be the only arms to hug them...my ears may be the only ears to really stop and listen to what they have to say...my heart may be the only heart to love them.

There are more important things than teaching someone to read.

I thank God for allowing me to help teach (and learn) those lessons.