A person’s a person, no matter how small.

REMEMBERING ALICE

Alice was a withdrawn seven year old in the second grade classroom in which I taught. Her parents were separated. Alice's father had physical custody. He told Alice that her mother was dead. Alice's mother hoped to get custody at the divorce hearing. She was eventually able to tell Alice that she was not dead.

Alice's behavior was strange and she had no friends in the class. The other children giggled at her unusual behavior. One day, Alice's mom came to the classroom to take Alice out for lunch. I took advantage of Alice's absence to talk to the class. I said, “I want to talk with you about something important. I know Alice's behavior is odd at times and I don't blame you for laughing. But there is something that I think you should know. Alice is living with just her father right now. He told Alice that her mother is dead.”

The children gasped.

I swallowed hard, then continued, “I'm not trying to make you sad. I'm telling you this because Alice is going through a difficult time and she needs us to be kind to her.”

Alice returned to a more compassionate classroom. No one was her friend, but no one laughed at her.

Two weeks later, Alice's mom told me that the following Friday she was taking Alice out of the school.

The day before Alice's last day with us, I spoke with the school secretary. I told her that I needed some time to talk to my class so that I could tell them that Alice is leaving and ask them to make a good-bye card. I told the secretary that I would ask Alice to deliver a note to her and would she please keep Alice in her office for five minutes before sending her back to the classroom. The secretary smiled and agreed.

Later that day, Alice took the note to the secretary's office. While she was out of the room, I talked with the students.They appeared happy to make a card. Alice was often in her own world, so it wasn't difficult for the children to make a card without Alice noticing. I told the students to put their cards on my desk at dismissal time.

After the students left for the day, I looked at the cards. The boy who was her chief tormentor and laughed the loudest had made a card with flowers and butterflies He had written, “I'm sorry you're leaving. I love you. I'll miss you.”

Many students created cards with similar sentiments. 

The following day was Alice's last one with us. I asked one of the students to write Alice's name on the envelope and decorate it. I gave the envelope to Alice at dismissal time.

Four days later, I received a note from Alice's mother. It read: Thank you so much for the envelope you gave Alice. She reads the cards from the children over and over. She said, “I didn't know they loved me.” This weekend she was the happiest I have ever seen her."