I’m honored this piece was included in Gargoyle Magazine #71; a publication with forty-four years of heart, soul, and talent.
The Rose
Ann, a first grader, came bouncing into my classroom in her pink Hello Kitty sneakers. “Happy Valentine!” she exclaimed with a slight trace of a Korean accent. She handed me a fake red cloth rose.
Ann was in my reading group for English Language Learners. She was an ideal student: eager to learn, respectful, quick to help others, and just the right amount of silly. Her parents were polite and formal in meetings. I often wondered what they thought of the young, loud, casually dressed staff that filled our school. The valentine showed her family was embracing our American traditions, and also was thankful for my role in Ann’s education.
“You got the rose!” Gina, a special education teacher, announced when she came into our shared classroom. I wondered why she was so excited about a dollar store rose. I loved my work, but as a career switcher and someone who hated Valentine’s Day; I struggled to match the enthusiasm and fashion accessories of my colleagues.
But that year, something shifted in me. Working in a Title I school, with more than half the students living below the poverty level, I saw how important it was for these kids not only to receive, but to give. Valentine’s Day created equity—with little cards that proclaimed friendship and awesomeness.
My fifth grade students, who I may have thought too old for these celebrations, seemed to need it the most. These are boys who wake up in the middle of the night to feed baby siblings while Mom works a double shift, and girls whose hands are chapped from housework. They are eleven-year-olds who risked their lives on a journey from El Salvador to Virginia. I understood what that bag of cards and candy represented.
In our writing group, we translated sayings from colorful chalky candy hearts. They teased each other about who signed a card with “l-o-v-e.” (Of course I would come to the wedding!)
When the dismissal bell rang, I felt the usual fatigue, yet refreshed by a new perspective. I couldn’t wait to tell Gina how “woke” I was. I might even start shopping the seasonal section of Target for holiday flare.
I didn’t have a chance. With a knowing grin, Gina picked up the rose. “Pull a petal.”
I pulled one petal, and another, watching in awe as Ann’s gift transformed into a lacy red thong.
We ran like middle schoolers, giggling down the hallway, to see Sandy— a fabulous first grade teacher nearing retirement. Sandy blushed a red to match her thong when she discovered it.
“Should we tell Ann’s parents before they give them to her Saturday Korea school teachers?” I asked. Her family would be mortified. We decided it was beyond our responsibility, and too awkward, especially with an interpreter. Plus, it wouldn’t be right to spoil the potential happiness for Ann’s future teachers.
One thing we like even more than holiday flare is a good story.