To my delight I just received a phone call from one of the sweetest little boys I at the time had no idea the impact I along with my family had on this little boy named Martin. This little boy was in my sons Ethan 1st grade classroom. One day while volunteering in their class I noticed how their teacher would have very little patience for Martin. Quietly this teacher would tell me he was like a savage child out of control and a waste of anyones energy. Martin at the time could not count, read or write. Yes, he had a very difficult time adjusting and when he became very confused, embarrassed and frustrated Martin would shut down and cry. He would raise his hand when he wasnt supposed to according to his inpatient teacher and had a difficult time sitting still in his chair. He didnt have crayons like Ethan or the other students nor did he have the folders, notebooks or at that point completed homework to turn in. On one particular morning I couldnt but over hear Martin complaint to the teacher his does were too tight and had a whole in them. In stead of listening and being sensitive to his out cry; the teacher snapped at this little boy and said, I dont care how your shoes feel...sit down and not another word! Clearly this teacher was out of touch and her constant short temper, huffing and puffing and rolling her eyes became the norm confusing these innocent children even further. I would volunteer daily and because I love all children I was very animated, encouraging, understanding and offered the extra TLC and bandaid when called for. I read to the children during center time, helped with their math, counting, crafts and was the parent coming through on donating hundreds of pencils, extra folders, notebooks, reward knock knacks, all the extra snacks to ensure the kids that didnt have healthy snacks absolutely got them....daily. Now about the shoes and little Martin....he asked me that same morning if I could give him a pair of light up sneakers like my son Ethan had. I gave him my phone number and asked for his parents to call me. The father called me the next morning...a Saturday. He spoke with a heavy accent and invited me over to their apartment to talk with me. I agreed and met Martins father that afternoon. I was a little nervous at first, the mother was not there. The apartment was scarce and very dim. His father spent the next two hours with tears in his eyes explaining how tough it had been on them. You see Martin and his parents legally escaped the blood diamond mine from a small village n the west coast side of Africa. His father showed me the wild, the hut Martin was born in, the scares on his arms from the militants and pictures of their lives they left behind. Ok....I will continue this message soon...stay with me...I want to finish sharing Martins story. I will return shortly!
Posted on: Fri, 01 Nov 2013 14:54:13 +0000
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