In the movie “Finding Forrester,” the elderly Pulitzer-Prize winning novelist William Forrester (Sean Connery) plays mentor to an aspiring African-American writer, Jamal Wallace. At one point, Forrester gives some advice to Jamal regarding a young woman who has caught his eye: “The key to a woman’s heart is an unexpected gift at an unexpected time.”
In the next scene, Jamal presents a signed copy of one of Forrester’s books to the young woman, who gushes: “This is so unexpected!”
It’s a wonderful scene and great advice. As I consider those words, however, I realize that an unexpected gift at an unexpected time is a key that unlocks all hearts.
This past year of teaching has been hard on me. Whether my exhaustion stems from getting older or assigning more papers to my students, all of which I must read and mark, I don’t know. What I do know is that the year has brought arduous demands on my time and energy. The last month in particular, with the paperwork of next year’s class registrations and AP test enrollment, has ground me down. Every week brought another mountain to climb. Every day found me falling further behind in my work. Every class reminded me of my failure to inspire certain students.
What helped sustain me during this long march were the “unexpected gifts at unexpected times.”
Let me give some examples.
This past week, two of the homeschool moms whose students I teach wrote me notes encouraging me in my work. One of them, who has helped me in the classroom, told me how much she has enjoyed watching me teach. Her note of encouragement brightened my day.
A second mother wrote regarding a writing project I’d assigned some of my younger students. After we’d finished reading Robert Ruark’s The Old Man and the Boy, I asked the class to write a letter to an older mentor in their lives. The mother told me that her son, age 13, had written a letter of appreciation to his grandfather, age 85. This elderly gentleman was so touched by this letter that he called the family and told the parents: "If I die tomorrow, I will know that my life has meant something."
Three more of my student families gave me special treats: a gift certificate to a local coffee shop, another to Whole Foods, and a Trader Joe’s shopping bag left on the trunk of my car containing a boxed wine, a bouquet of daffodils, and a card. These gifts helped carry me forward through a tough week, pushing me to continue my marathon of grading papers and tests, preparing lesson plans, and entering the classroom in good humor no matter how I felt inside.
These gifts reminded me once again of the many kindnesses shown me by students and parents over the years. They also made me keenly aware of the many other people I know, particularly adults, who receive little or no encouragement—“unexpected gifts at unexpected times”—in their daily lives.
This lack of visible appreciation is unfortunate, for such gifts can be purchased for almost nothing. A little time, a little money, a little thought. That’s all it takes.
In return, those we care for receive a bounty of rewards: affirmation, appreciation, love.
What does it cost, after all, to stop by a grocery store on the way home from work and buy flowers, chocolates, or a bottle of wine for those we love?
What does it cost to write out a little note and leave it on a beloved’s pillow?
What does it cost to give a child a hug?
What does it cost for a boss to thank an employee with a smile and an invitation to lunch?
What does it cost to smile at a stressed-out store clerk or waiter?
What does it cost to write out a letter to someone we love, stick it in an envelope, and pop it in the mail?
The answer is: Nothing much. A few bucks. A little time. An envelope and a stamp.
And yet for the recipients of those gifts our simple gesture of goodwill and appreciation can mean the world. That one small gift, a pebble tossed into a pond, may create ripples far beyond its tiny splash.
And what if we don’t show our appreciation for others? Perhaps we will have no regrets. Or perhaps we will.
On the afternoon of May 12, 2004, I arrived home after teaching to find my wife in a coma from a brain aneurysm. That morning, I had called Kris from my classroom to get some information I’d left behind. During our conversation, her last words to me were: “I love you.” My response: “I need to run. The students are here.”
Kris never regained consciousness and died five days later.
In failing to say three simple words—“I love you”—I could plead haste. I could plead negligence. I could plead stupidity.
I could plead any number of things, but it wouldn’t matter. To my dying day I will regret not telling Kris I loved her. I would give up everything I own for five minutes to apologize to her for being a fool and to tell her how much she meant to me.
The little acts of kindness in this life matter. Give it a shot and see what happens.
It’s a wonderful scene and great advice. As I consider those words, however, I realize that an unexpected gift at an unexpected time is a key that unlocks all hearts.
This past year of teaching has been hard on me. Whether my exhaustion stems from getting older or assigning more papers to my students, all of which I must read and mark, I don’t know. What I do know is that the year has brought arduous demands on my time and energy. The last month in particular, with the paperwork of next year’s class registrations and AP test enrollment, has ground me down. Every week brought another mountain to climb. Every day found me falling further behind in my work. Every class reminded me of my failure to inspire certain students.
What helped sustain me during this long march were the “unexpected gifts at unexpected times.”
Let me give some examples.
This past week, two of the homeschool moms whose students I teach wrote me notes encouraging me in my work. One of them, who has helped me in the classroom, told me how much she has enjoyed watching me teach. Her note of encouragement brightened my day.
A second mother wrote regarding a writing project I’d assigned some of my younger students. After we’d finished reading Robert Ruark’s The Old Man and the Boy, I asked the class to write a letter to an older mentor in their lives. The mother told me that her son, age 13, had written a letter of appreciation to his grandfather, age 85. This elderly gentleman was so touched by this letter that he called the family and told the parents: "If I die tomorrow, I will know that my life has meant something."
Three more of my student families gave me special treats: a gift certificate to a local coffee shop, another to Whole Foods, and a Trader Joe’s shopping bag left on the trunk of my car containing a boxed wine, a bouquet of daffodils, and a card. These gifts helped carry me forward through a tough week, pushing me to continue my marathon of grading papers and tests, preparing lesson plans, and entering the classroom in good humor no matter how I felt inside.
These gifts reminded me once again of the many kindnesses shown me by students and parents over the years. They also made me keenly aware of the many other people I know, particularly adults, who receive little or no encouragement—“unexpected gifts at unexpected times”—in their daily lives.
This lack of visible appreciation is unfortunate, for such gifts can be purchased for almost nothing. A little time, a little money, a little thought. That’s all it takes.
In return, those we care for receive a bounty of rewards: affirmation, appreciation, love.
What does it cost, after all, to stop by a grocery store on the way home from work and buy flowers, chocolates, or a bottle of wine for those we love?
What does it cost to write out a little note and leave it on a beloved’s pillow?
What does it cost to give a child a hug?
What does it cost for a boss to thank an employee with a smile and an invitation to lunch?
What does it cost to smile at a stressed-out store clerk or waiter?
What does it cost to write out a letter to someone we love, stick it in an envelope, and pop it in the mail?
The answer is: Nothing much. A few bucks. A little time. An envelope and a stamp.
And yet for the recipients of those gifts our simple gesture of goodwill and appreciation can mean the world. That one small gift, a pebble tossed into a pond, may create ripples far beyond its tiny splash.
And what if we don’t show our appreciation for others? Perhaps we will have no regrets. Or perhaps we will.
On the afternoon of May 12, 2004, I arrived home after teaching to find my wife in a coma from a brain aneurysm. That morning, I had called Kris from my classroom to get some information I’d left behind. During our conversation, her last words to me were: “I love you.” My response: “I need to run. The students are here.”
Kris never regained consciousness and died five days later.
In failing to say three simple words—“I love you”—I could plead haste. I could plead negligence. I could plead stupidity.
I could plead any number of things, but it wouldn’t matter. To my dying day I will regret not telling Kris I loved her. I would give up everything I own for five minutes to apologize to her for being a fool and to tell her how much she meant to me.
The little acts of kindness in this life matter. Give it a shot and see what happens.