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walked back to the building with Jack, and I

drove back with the principal, detailing the

incident as we drove.

Once back at school, the four of us met in the

principal’s office. After some discussion and

reassurances from the principal that no one had

opened his letter, but that it had come through

the mail that way, Jack relaxed, but remained

silent. To my chagrin, it was determined that we

had no other recourse than to suspend Jack for

several days. He remained calm and silent until

his grandmother came to pick him up. I walked to

my room, defeated and sad that I was not able to

help Jack work through his anger. I knew it was

not my place or responsibility to correct the evils

and tragedies in the lives of my students, but

having felt their anger and disappointment so

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often myself at their age, I wanted so desperately

to wipe it all away for each of them.

Arriving back at my classroom, I dutifully went

on with teaching, and the day ended without

incident or much mention of the previous

incident. We had a short discussion on conflict

resolution and class rules, and the boys were all

very cooperative and understanding. My students

left for the day, but my disquiet lingered. An idea

came to me, and without a second thought, I sat

down at my desk and penned a letter to Jack’s

father. In the letter, I did my best to describe

Jack’s reaction to the unsealed envelope without

too much emotion. I focused the letter on Jack as

a whole person and tried to tell the man as many

positive details about Jack’s school experience as I

could. When the letter was completed it was

several pages long. To complement the letter, I

enclosed an unofficial copy of Jack’s current

grades, which were excellent, and a Polaroid

picture of Jack I had taken several days earlier.

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Feeling much better, I left school and headed to

the post office.

Earlier in the term, Jack had asked if we could

read Handbook for Boys by Walter Dean Myers.

I had previously owned a copy but had, at some

point, given it away. I ordered a classroom set of

about ten copies, and during the time Jack was

suspended, they arrived. Having never been to his

home, I decided it was a good time to check on

him. At the end of the school day, I stacked a

small collection of textbooks and an inscribed

copy of Handbook for Boys together and headed

to Jack’s house across town.

I had been warned about Jack’s neighborhood as

being one of the roughest in town. While I wasn’t

worried, I did find the warnings very humorous.

People’s assumptions always entertain me. With

the top of my Jeep down, I drove over to Jack’s

house. I drove slowly through his neighborhood

of small, single-story concrete row houses. This is

what passed for “projects” in the south, and the

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stark contrast to my own experiences made me

laugh to myself as I thought of everyone’s

warnings. Cat calls and invitations of “Hey White

Boy, come on over here,” rang through the streets

from the disparate groups of porch dwellers. I

knew they were meant for me, as I was the only

“white” person in sight.

Finding the house, I stepped from the Jeep and

walked confidently toward the small brick duplex.

A voice from behind me yelled, “Hey! Hey! What

you doin’ there? That’s my house! What you

want?” I turned and waved, as it was really much

too far to yell a true explanation in response.

Before I got to the front step, Jack burst through

the screen door wearing a tank top and sagging

denim shorts.

He yelled across the street, “Yo! This is my

teacher. Ya’ll mess with him I’ma kick yo ass!”

His voice was loud, strong, and sincere. I smiled

at him and put out my hand. He shook it with

vigor.

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“Mr. Love, Sir, what you doin’ here?” He asked

pleasantly.

“I brought you some things that you might need

while you’re out, as well as something you’ve

been wanting.” I said as I handed him the stack of

books.

He looked down past the pile of familiar

textbooks and zeroed in on the little paperback

novel sitting on top. “Oh, Mr. Love, where did

you find this?” He asked as he held the paperback

up and flipped through it as if fanning a stack of

cash. He balanced the hulking stack of textbooks

against his torso. His excitement was contagious.

“It was with your stuff. I figured it was yours, so I

brought it to you.” I said, trying to sound sincere.

“Sir, you know this aint mine. You wrote in it,”

he said, noticing the inscription on the inside

front cover. He put the stack of textbooks on the

porch and held the novel open as if it were a

sacred relic. His mouth moved, as he read

through the inscription. I saw his mouth widen

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into a smile, but it quickly faded as he looked up

at my face. “I don’t deserve this.” He said

emphatically.

“Yes Sir, you do.” I answered.

“Sir, I was a jerk to you and everyone else. Now

you giving me this book with all these good things

you wrote inside. I don’t deserve this, Sir.”

“Sir, we all deserve a lot more than we get, but

we take what we get and we deal with it. Good

and bad. You’re a great student, and what could

be a better gift than your own copy of Handbook

for Boys? To be honest though, everyone in class

got one, I just didn’t write in theirs.” I said with a

reassuring smile.

“Mr. Love, why you so nice to me?” He asked,

still holding the book in front of him.

“Because you remind me of myself. All of you do.

I love you like I love every student I ever had or

will have. You just think I’m only nice to you

because you don’t see me with everyone else. I

hate to break it to you, but I’m good to all of my

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kids. You need teachers like me so you know that

there are adults, especially teachers, that you can

trust and respect.”

“I don’t get you, Sir.” He said in response.

“Me either.” I said, nodding my head with a

cheerful smile, “I’m gonna get out of here and

head back to school. I’ll see you in a few days.

There are lesson plans in your textbooks. Make

sure you get that work done!”

“Yes Sir,” he said, as he bent to pick up his books

and returned to the dark inside of his house. As I

drove away from his neighborhood, there were

no calls or insults or propositions. It was as if

word had spread that I was there for a legitimate

reason and was allowed to pass unfettered. It was

comforting to see Jack and know that he was not

angry. It was exciting to see Jack excited at

having a book of his own, a book that he had

wanted. A few days later, Jack was back at school.

Soon afterwards, I received a letter from Jack’s

father. I was shocked by the immediacy of his

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response. I was shocked to get a response at all.

Hiding the letter was difficult. I wanted to read it,

but I had no privacy in the classroom. I didn’t

want Jack to know until I had read it, and even

then I wasn’t sure if I’d tell him. When the class

cleared out for the day, I sat at my desk and

opened the letter. It read as follows (some

changes were made to disguise the identity of the

child):

Mr. Love,

I would like to start out by saying “Thank

You” for the letter and the progress report that

you sent me. I appreciate the time and effort that

you are sharing with your kids and especially

mine, “Jack”. I understand everything that Jack is

going through at this time. I believe you are the

best teacher for him at this time. Jack needs a lot

of encouragement and guidance because he can

be a real great kid at times. I believe that the

places were he is living (Projects) and the negative

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environment can be an unhealthy place for him.

That’s why when I get out in 10 months I will be

fighting for the both of us to make our lives

better! I was born and raised in that town. I went

to your school. I remember Mrs. Roberts my

reading teacher telling my mother that she didn’t

understand what was wrong with me. I had a

behavioral problem in school too. You might

have made a profound affect in my life, if we had

a teacher teaching Alternative/Behavioral classes

for kids back then. I plan to make myself very

active in his life and help him and encourage him

to get his schooling because if I had been wiser

back then I would have chosen the Right Path of

life, considering how a life of crime has made

mine so miserable. I love Jack and I don’t want to

see him following in my footsteps. How long is

Jack going to be in the Alternative/Behavioral

classes.

I was really surprised when I first start

getting letters from Jack because I could tell he

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was angry with me for being locked up. Jack was

living up with me and when I had sent him back,

that’s when he had start being rebellious and was

sent off from his grandmother.

I only hope that he is not doing any of the

things that he is saying he’s doing? I believe his

first letter was to get me upset because that’s

exactly what he had done because I stayed up in

my bed until 4:00 am thinking about him. I was

kind of confused at first because the letters was

coming from the school.

I believe writing these letters can be therapeutic

for him in getting off a lot that he has build up in

side, he has been expressing it to me and has

made me get a better feeling of how he feel about

life and family especially my mother because she

has been bios between my two boys.

But Jack has gotten this idea that it is okay

to smoke weed and I hope no one is feeding it to

him in those projects. I know Jack loves his

grandmother and great grandmother and has this

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idea if he becomes a drug dealer he can make

money and get them out of the projects and I

know were these ideas are coming from,

especially that he is around this type of

environment daily living in those projects are

being influential in his curiosity of getting money

especially since it is hard for them to come by.

Maybe you can explain to Jack a little more

in the direction he should go and not follow those

people he sees everyday, because he’s only going

to end up where his mother and me are. I always

write him and try to tell him how important

education is in his life so he can become a real

man and make everyone proud of him, especially

me.

I appreciate your time and the

encouragement you are providing to my son and

I only hope that we can keep him focus because

it’s difficult and miserable when you are not able

to be a total guidance in your kid’s life. I wil be

getting him when I come home and being apart

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of his life because I suffered the same growing up

not having a father in my life and I don’t want

Jack to hate me like I’ve hated my father for the

way he treated me.

I’m not able to receive Polaroid pictures,

any other type of picture I can receive even

printed off the computer or developed. Thank

you, and any time you wish to write me, or let me

know what’s going on in Jack’s life, I appreciate

it.

(Unsigned)

Jack’s father’s letter reiterated everything I have

been telling my boys for years, and I hoped one

day we could meet and maybe work out some

type of presentation he could provide for my

students. His thoughts seemed clear and his heart

and mind were in the right place. The following

morning, I pulled Jack outside and confessed to

him that I’d written to his father and that I had

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received a letter back from him. I explained again

about my own experiences with having family in

prison. We talked for a long time, and I offered to

let Jack read the letter from his father. He was

excited, and I joked with him that he could read

it if he promised not to rip it up. He extended his

hand and said, “Deal!” Jack and I continued to

write to his father, and we both were excited

when his letters came. We often shared the letters,

letting each other read what Jack’s father had said

to his son and his son’s teacher. Jack appreciated

the honesty, and I appreciated Jack’s trust, as his

father’s letters to him were often filled with

statements of love, hope, and concern.

Jack’s negative environment and survival instincts

got the best of him toward the end of the school

year. During a routine drug test required of his

probation he “peed hot,” meaning he failed his

drug test. While the marijuana in his system was