At our school’s janitor’s retirement dinner, his daughter opened a worn notebook he’d kept hidden for eighteen years. Inside were the names of more than 300 children and the quiet repairs he’d made so they wouldn’t feel embarrassed at school. When I heard my granddaughter’s name, I realized the kindest teacher in our building had never stood in a classroom.
Everyone knew Mr. Perkins. But almost no one really knew him. For twenty-six years, he unlocked the school before sunrise. He swept hallways. Repaired broken desks. Changed light bulbs. Cleared …
At our school’s janitor’s retirement dinner, his daughter opened a worn notebook he’d kept hidden for eighteen years. Inside were the names of more than 300 children and the quiet repairs he’d made so they wouldn’t feel embarrassed at school. When I heard my granddaughter’s name, I realized the kindest teacher in our building had never stood in a classroom. Read More
