Heart with Capital S

A few years ago, in addition to my academic classes, I had a class which was devoted to helping students who were struggling for various reasons. Some of them had disciplinary issues, some of them had attendance issues, and some of them needed just needed extra help.

One of these students was a young man, David*, who was struggling due to absences, a tendency to not turn in homework, and, because he had two very very successful older brothers, had a slight inferiority complex. I saw right through all of this. David was so scared that he couldn't measure up to his brothers that he was subconsciously sabotaging himself. And I wasn't going to let him do it. Some days, it felt like I was pulling teeth to get David to do what was necessary for him to succeed, but succeed he did.

This might seem totally unrelated. But stay with me. I am a birthday lover. I love birthdays. I love the cake, the singing, the presents, making a big deal, I love it all. But most of all, I love my birthday. I remember in my 20s, my dad once told me that I needed to stop making such a big fuss about my birthday, that I was getting too old. Hah! Not me. I still start counting down to my big day 4 months in advance. And at school, I start reminding my kids that they only have X number of days left until my birthday in February. (My big day is in April.)

Ok. Back to David. The year I taught David was no different that any other birthday year. Not really expecting my kids (students) to do anything, I started announcing my birthday. Finally, my big day arrived, and so did David, with a small gift box for me. I opened it up, and in it was the charm at the top of this post. I thought it either stood for my first initial or for his last initial, but as I was ooing and awing over it, he said, wait. Let me explain. The S doesn't stand for what you think it does. It stands for Second Chances, because that's what you gave me.

If you don't think there were tears at that one... Well, here's the best part. I've had the chance to work with David closely during all of his four years in high school through the organization I sponsor at school. He's graduating number 1 in his class this spring. I love that kid.

*Not his real name.

Kitty on Amber Ball

I have at least one charm on my bracelet from most of my best friends. As my best bud, Jessie, started to notice my charms seeming to multiply overnight at times, she decided that she wanted a charm to remind me of her. In order to really understand her choice, I need to tell you a few things about Jessie. First, she's incredibly thoughtful and insightful. Second, she's really creative and has the talent to back up her creativity. Third, my Jessie is a true blue readhead...porcelain skin with cute freckles and all.

Growing up I never had a pet. My father is allergic to anything with fur or feathers, and someday I'll explain why I should never, ever own a fish. So, no pets for me. Fast forward to my late 20s. I lived alone, and I'd been considering getting a pet for years. Finally, my best friend, Maretta, took me to the animal shelter where I found a beautiful black kitten. When all of the other kittens had left me to play with each other, this one stayed with me. When I picked her up, she curled up in my lap in a ball the size of a paperback novel, and went to sleep. I was smitten. I named her Viola after the character in Twelfth Night.

Jessie, being the kitty lover she is, loved my Viola too. So, knowing that I didn't have any kitty charms (yet), and that all of my charms were solely sterling silver (at the time), bought this beautiful charm for me. I love it because the amber ball reminds me of Jessie's hair. The kitty playing with the ball reminds me of how cute Viola was when she was a kitten. And every time I look at it, I am immediately reminded of Jessie.

There's an interesting postscript to this story. It's been years since Jessie gave me my silver and amber kitty charm. And just this summer, a cat with eyes the exact same color as that ball adopted me. Even more importantly, my cats have a "godmother." She's not a real godmother of course, but if anything ever happens to me, she's promised to take them and care for them until they die. Who is this "godmother" you ask? It's Jessie, of course. Who else?

Ice Cream Cone by James Avery

During the week before teachers were supposed to report for duty at the high school I'd just transferred to, the administration held a welcome meeting with the principal. Because I wasn't a new teacher and I'd just transferred within the district, somehow I didn't get the message until 10 minutes before said meeting while I was painting the podium in my new room, wearing my icky painting clothes.

Yes, I went. And it was awesome! Not because the meeting was good. I can't remember a single thing the principal said. No. What was awesome is that just as the meeting started, my best friend from high school walked in the door with her teacher mentor. She had just been hired to teach at the same school! I yelled, "Maretta!?!" When she realized who had just yelled out her name she cried, "Sarah!!" We hugged and giggled and talked through the whole meeting. It was wonderful.

After college, Maretta and I had lost touch for about three years. I heard about what was going on with her through her family a few times, but other than that, we had no contact. I always remembered her birthday, and I thought of her often. But to end up teaching at the same school was the coolest, neither of us thought coincidence, ever.

That first year was difficult for both of us. I contracted mono and had to sleep during my lunch breaks in order to make it through the day, and Maretta was going through the hell that is the first year of teaching. So we started a little tradition. Whenever we had a really really bad day, we'd get ice cream at Baskin Robbins on the way home and just relax and talk. It was special time just for us. I honestly think it played a big role in keeping both of us sane. For my birthday (I think it was the 30th), Maretta gave me this charm to commemorate our tradition and the rekindling of a very important friendship.

The ice cream days are over now. Our Baskin Robbins is closed. Maretta was blessed to be able to stay home when she had her first baby, and now that she has two, our crazy schedules make it difficult for us to see each other as often as we'd like. But every time I see that charm, it reminds me of her and how much I love her.

Origination

Sometime during my senior year in high school, my parents gave me a charm bracelet and two charms from James Avery. As I didn't appreciate all the joys of jewelry yet at that tender (and silly) age, I put them away and left them in the box until I graduated from college. Once I began teaching, I finally discovered the joy of charm bracelets while admiring the unique and individual bracelets of my students. So I dug out my bracelet, got it resized, and here I am, well over 40 charms. Even though the bracelet is stretched out from wear and so many charms, I love to wear my bracelet. It's like wearing my friends and family on my wrist. But it's also because there is a story behind every charm. Some of them are funny, some sweet, some sad, but all of them are important to me. I hope you'll enjoy them as I share them with you.