Pittsburgh Post GazetteMonday, December 01, 2008
By Elizabeth Spiker
I have been telling this story to a few people for years now. I'd like to share it with everyone because, quite simply, it will make you believe in people. We could all use a story like that.
A few years ago, I was teaching English at Steel Valley High School. For those who don't know, it's a small school district serving Munhall, Homestead and West Homestead. Steelers quarterback Charlie Batch is one of Steel Valley's most famous alums. The kids all walk. There are no buses from the school district. The kids are a mixed bag of black, white and Asian and come from varying economic backgrounds. While no one I ever taught came from a "wealthy" family, I did teach many poor students for whom school was often a safe haven from their home lives.
When I would tell people my livelihood, they would often say, "My, I couldn't ever teach school! Kids today are just awful." Or, "Surrounded by teenagers all day? No thanks!"
Well, somebody has to do it. We can't just send them out there like a pack of wolves every day to fend for themselves. And, as I'm about to tell you, spending your day with young people has perks that no "grown-up" job can offer.
It was the day before Christmas break and everyone was keyed up. You could feel it in the halls. Some were happy to be off for two weeks, and some were not because two weeks at home was something they'd be better off without. Despite what you see on TV, not everyone has a Merry Christmas.
That year, there was a senior named Michael in our school. He had multiple problems, both mental and physical, and came from a disadvantaged economic background. But Michael was as sweet as the day is long. Always happy. Always up. And his classmates loved him.
Now, when I say classmates, I mean all of them: the cheerleaders, the jocks, the bookish, the artsy-craftsy types. Steel Valley students can be a tough crowd, but they do have their moments. As an English teacher, I'm a geek about the language. But I have to say that the dictionaries are wrong by making the first definition of "love" a noun. Love is a verb. And this is why.
Michael had wanted a jacket for Christmas. A Steelers jacket. His own coat was ripped and torn, yet he wore it every day, proudly. He didn't have much in the way of material things, but you could see he had more than most of us in the areas that matter.
Well, the students in Jill Fleming-Salopek's English class took up a collection, unbeknownst to Michael. Soon, it wasn't just that class, but other classes as well. On that day, we gathered in Ms. Fleming-Salopek's room. It was standing room only.
When Michael came in, he was told by some of the students that Santa had come early and that he'd dropped off his present at the school so Michael would be sure to get it. He was so happy. Jumping up and down. Just like we all are (or were) when we didn't care about what others thought or how we looked. When we were just our true, uncomplicated selves.
When they gave him the coat, there wasn't a dry eye in the room. Big, thick-necked football players to quiet, unassuming scholars. It was a moment I'll never forget as a teacher or as a human being.
Kids today. Sometimes we should look at their lesson plans.
Elizabeth Spiker lives in Bethel Park (lizspiker@verizon.net).
