Happy Valentine’s Day

It’s not that the special education students I assisted were undeserving of carnations from the Student Council’s Valentine’s Day Flower Sale. It’s that they were surrounded by and surrounded themselves with kids who never thought to buy flowers for anyone else or simply didn’t have the means to.

All of that changed one frigid winter day as the students slogged and tumbled into our cozy portable classroom just steps outside of the main school building. The school was abuzz with Student Council members scuttling from homeroom to homeroom delivering fistfuls of carnations wherever they went. In the days prior to Valentine’s Day middle school students could pay for a flower and write a note to a friend, a girl (or boy) friend, or crush that would be attached to a carnation and delivered on Valentine’s Day. Everyone eagerly waited to see who would be receiving flowers that morning before the official school bell rang through the halls. For our detached classroom, however, it was business as usual.

Until it wasn’t.

In the last moments before our small group settled into a morning of abolitionists and the Fugitive Slave Act, a cold blast of air swept into our classroom as the door swung open.

“Good morning!” our teacher called out in a happy greeting. A tall sandy blonde haired girl took three brave steps into the room before her confidence faltered and she froze in place.

“Is Josh Hines here?” The girl shifted her weight from one foot to the other and back again as she searched the faces before her.

Josh, who hadn’t noticed our visitor, was deeply involved in his favorite past time: loading his mechanical pencil with lead and clicking the top until it came out at the perfect length. I gently ushered him to greet his guest.

The girl held out a pink carnation for Josh. “This is for you. Happy Valentine’s Day,” she said through a bright smile.

Her thoughtfulness was lost on Josh partly because his autism prevented this three hundred pound teddy bear of a seventh grader from fully appreciating the girl’s act of kindness.

“How thoughtful of you! Josh, what can you say when someone does something nice for you?” I quietly reminded him.

Josh took the delicate flower in his meaty hand, lifting his head toward the girl but averting his eyes. From behind smudged glasses he offered, “Uhhhh…….thank you?” before turning back toward his desk.

Having already realized that Josh and our surprise visitor would never have the opportunity to travel in the same circles, I followed the girl out of our classroom and lightly asked how she knew him.

“Oh,” she smiled at me, her hair gleaming in the winter sun that streamed on the walkway between or classroom and the school building. “He was at his locker last week and got really mad about his mechanical pencil. He threw a book down the hallway and it hit my head and gave me a concussion.”

I was shocked that I hadn’t heard about the incident, having a deep interest in all the things that happened with the students I assisted. “I’m really sorry you were hurt. It was so kind of you to get him a flower and deliver it today.”

The words that passed her lips then were beautiful, naïve, and pure. “I know he didn’t mean it. I thought I could do something nice for him. Tell him I’ll see him in the hallway.”

The girl turned and disappeared through the door to the school but her words remained, shoring up my faith in humanity and all things good which was the greater Valentine’s Day gift than the flower ever could be.