Read Online The Book of Christmas Virtues by Jack Canfield - Free Book Online Page B

placed the still-warm bowl of soup in the stranger’s hands without waiting for an answer. But he got one.
    â€œSure, son, but only if you go halfway with me on that sandwich. It’s too much for a man my age.”
    It wasn’t easy making my way to the food court with tears blurring my vision, but I soon returned with large containers of coffee and a big assortment of pastries. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but . . .”
    I left Union Station that day feeling warmer than I had ever thought possible.
    Marion Smith

School of “Hire” Learning
    I wrinkled my nose and sniffed the air as I closed the classroom windows; still, I couldn’t identify the faint odor. But it was Friday afternoon, my first week of teaching, and—although already in love with my hardworking students—I was exhausted and ready to leave the building.
    For the most part, my twenty-four fifth-graders were the children of seasonal agricultural workers on Long Island. Their parents were employed at the local duck farm, many on welfare. They lived in converted duck shacks, with outside privies, cold-water hand pumps and potbellied, wood-burning stoves.
    So odors weren’t that unusual.
    However, by Monday morning the foul smell overpowered the hot room. Like a dog scenting its prey, I sniffed until I found it: a rotting sandwich in Jimmy Miller’s desk, the bread smeared with rancid butter and the meat green. I rewrapped the sandwich, put it back in his desk and threw open all the windows before my students filed in.
    At noon, the children got their lunch bags and fled to the playground picnic table. I saw Jimmy unwrap his sandwich and pretend to eat. Making certain the kids didn’t see, he wrapped it again, put it in his pocket and slipped it back into his desk when the class returned.
    My stomach knotted in empathy over Jimmy’s poverty . . . and his pride.
    After a private discussion, another teacher and I “hired” Jimmy for classroom chores like cleaning the chalkboards. As payment, we treated Jimmy to lunch with us each day. We also encouraged him to study and provided him with after-school tutoring. Before long, Jimmy took pride in his special lunches and earned top grades in all his subjects. As word traveled through the faculty grapevine, Jimmy was “rehired” by each year’s succeeding teacher.
    After a time, however, I accepted another teaching position and moved away.
    It was on a trip back eleven years later that my friend Chris asked if I remembered Jimmy. “He’s attending college now and is home for Christmas break. When I mentioned that you were coming, he asked to see you. “
    â€œReally? He was just a little shaver when I knew him.”
    â€œHe’s grown some since then.” Chris tried to hide a smile. “Says he has a Christmas present for you.”
    â€œA gift? For me?”
    Jimmy drove up a bit later, and I walked out to meet him. At 6'6" and pushing 280 pounds, he certainly was no longer a little shaver.
    â€œHappy holidays.” Jimmy stuck out an oversized paw. “I hear you got your doctorate. Congratulations! Do you mind if I call you Doc?”
    â€œIt’s all right with me, Jimmy.” I tilted my head and looked up the full length of him. “What have you been doing?”
    â€œWell, I got a four-year football scholarship, and I’ve made the dean’s list every semester. I graduate in June.”
    â€œGreat work. I bet you’ve signed a pro contract already. Big bucks, you know.”
    â€œYeah, I’ve had a few offers, but I’m not goin’ into the pros.”
    â€œNo kidding. Why not, Jimmy?”
    â€œI have other plans.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œI finished my student teaching last week, Doc.” He smiled when I registered surprise. “I’ve decided to be a teacher—just like you.” For a quiet moment, Jimmy gazed over my shoulder . . . and into the past. “I