The best thing about fifth grade was Valentine’s Day. it was on this day that everyone in class wrote a story and read it in front of the class. The class voted on the best story and the winner was awarded the best prize anyone in fifth grade could ever want. The winner was invited to eat lunch with the teacher, Miss Reak.
Miss Reak wasn’t a real good teacher but she wasn’t a terrible teacher either. If a grown-up asked one of us what we thought of our teacher, we would have said, “She’s okay.”
She did have one unique thing going for her. Everyone liked being around her. She could talk to you and carry on as if you were the most important person in the whole wide world. She had no “favorite” students. She liked all of us the same—kind of like we were her own children.
Someone who is in fifth grade might not think it was so terrific to have lunch with your teacher and, I suppose, in most cases they would be right. On the other hand, they hadn’t met Miss Reak.
One week before Valentine’s Day she announced what she was going to do. She really didn’t have to because her Valentine’s Day contest was legendary in the school and everyone knew about it.
She said that we were to write our best story. It could be no longer than two pages. We could print it or write it. After all of us had read our stories, we would vote and she would take the winner out to lunch that day to the OK Cafe. What made it even more special was the fact that while we were eating lunch, she told us that she would give the winner an extra special gift.
I wasn’t among the students who got the “A’s” and “B’s” in my class and my hopes were not too high about winning. But I knew it would be great to eat lunch with Miss Reak so I spent extra time thinking of an extra good story.
On Valentine’s Day Miss Reak called on us in alphabetical order. I was a little nervous when she said my name. I walked to the front of the room, stood close to the chalkboard, held my Big Chief tablet with the brownish paper between two sweaty hands and began to read. “The title of my story is, ‘The Goat Who Passed Too Much Gas.’”
As soon as I read the title, the class began to laugh. Their laughter gave me confidence and I began to read with emotion. There was a line in my story where the goat ate a whole patch of Mrs. Grube’s cucumbers. The goat became so full of gas that when it eventually came out of him, the force propelled him like a rocket all around town. There was a “crash, bang, boom, zing, zang, beep, bong, ding, dang, splish, splash and a whole lot of ka-booms” as the goat hit windows, cars, doors, lamp posts, bikes and people.
By the time I got to the “ding, dang’s” the class was really laughing and snorting and the person snorting the loudest was Miss Reak. We voted for the best story and I won. Miss Reak said that when the class was dismissed for lunch, she would give me a ride to the OK CAfe. I could hardly wait.
I ordered a Coke and a burger and French fries. Miss Reak had the same thing but coffee instead of a Coke. We talked for awhile. She said she really liked my story. Then she said something that no one ever said to me before. She said that I had a gift and that it was writing and that I should keep writing. I said, “thanks,” not really realizing the importance of what she said. I was waiting for the special gift.
She then told me a story about a boy who lived in a community where none of the people really knew the feeling of love. She said, “People were nice and they were polite and kind, but they didn’t know or understand love.” She went on to say that “One day the boy met an old man who knew the feeling of love and that it was his duty to pass this feeling on to a person of his choice and he chose this boy.”
Miss Reak continued to tell me, “The old man told the boy that from now on it was his responsibility to help others not only understand love but to show love.” He said, “When you show love from the heart and you do things out of love for other people, people will feel love and they in turn will begin to know what love is and to show others. Love can be a hug, a soft touch, a special note, a kind deed or even just being with someone and not saying anything. But because your love is true and from the heart, people will know it.”
Miss Reak then said, “This is my gift to you. I tell you this story of love so that you would know love better and be ready to give it to others.” When I asked her why she just didn’t tell the story to all of the students, she said that it wouldn’t be as special and now it was my responsibility to tell others.
As we drove back to school in her car, I asked her where she heard the story. She said, “My fifth grade teacher told it to me on Valentine’s Day.”
(Note: You can read about this old man in a book called “The Giver” by Lois Lowry.)
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