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A Chain Reaction of Hope

Dedicated to all teachers-you do make a difference.

I stood watching Dad give the Ingle's cashier the last bit of cash he had for the three plastic bags filled with food and milk. She looked at us sympathetically. I was seven years old, and I had no concept of terms like "relative poverty" and "working-poor." I was just amused that the items cost the exact amount in my dad's wallet down to the pennyno more, no less. I giggled at this small miracle from Godthat we wouldn't have to put something back! Dad didn't seem to appreciate the moment and grasped my hand a little too tight as we crossed the parking lot to our small blue Toyota.

Not much was said on the car ride home, and I mainly stared out the window. It was December but not very cold, which isn't unusual in our area. All the leaves had fallen off the trees, and the sky was filled a mixture of white and grey clouds. It was likely just going to rain the next morning. Unlike a lot of kids, I didn't cross my fingers for snow days.

As we entered our apartment, we found my mom folding laundry on the dining room table-proof that particle board could be passed down at least one generation. My 5-year-old brother was nearby following the table leg with a Matchbox car, making vroom and screeching noises. I immediately headed for my room to play with the few Barbie dolls I had. For a few hours, I immersed myself in a world of adventures until it was time for bed.

The next morning I was sitting in my 3rd grade homeroom class, busy chatting with my best friend Becky who had the desk next to mine. The room was festively decorated in crayon-colored Christmas trees and construction paper snowflakes we had cut out ourselves. I had failed to notice a few kids had wrapped presents sitting on their desks. At 8:15, our teacher Ms. Andrews came in smiling as usual and announced it was now time to exchange the Christmas gifts we had brought for each other.

My heart sankI had completely forgotten to ask Mom to help me wrap one of my teddy bears that I had planned to give as a gift. It looked nice and new and even still had the tag attached to it and everything. No one would ever know we couldn't have afforded a $10 gift. I raised my hand to get Ms. Andrew's attention, hoping that I could still get her permission to go to the front office and call Mom in time. Instead, she smiled and told me not to worry.

Despite my protests, she assured me that she had brought a few extra gifts with her just in case anyone

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