Two Choices

 What would you do? You make the choice. Don't look for a punch line, there isn't one. Read it anyway.

My question is: Would you have made the same choice?

At a fund-raising dinner for a school that serves learning-disabled children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question: 'When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature

 does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?

 The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued. 'I believe that when a child like Shay, physically and mentally handicapped, comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.

 Then he told the following story:

Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, 'Do you think they'll let me play?'  Shay's father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

 Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, 'We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.'

 Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. His Father watched with a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart. The boys saw the father's joy at his son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.

 At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.

 However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.

 The game would now be over. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.

 Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head, out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, 'Shay, run to first! Run to first!' Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.

 Everyone yelled, 'Run to second, run to second!'

 Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball ....

The smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team.

He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the second-baseman's head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.

 All were screaming, 'Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay'

 Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop helped him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, 'Run to third! Shay, run to third!'

 As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, 'Shay, run home! Run home!' Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team.

 'That day', said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, 'the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world'.

 Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making his father so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!

 AND NOW A LITTLE FOOTNOTE TO THIS STORY: We all send thousands of jokes through the e-mail without a second thought, but when it comes to sending messages about life choices, people hesitate. The crude, vulgar, and often obscene pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion about decency is too often suppressed in our schools and workplaces. If you're thinking about forwarding this message, chances are that you're probably sorting out the people in your address book who aren't the 'appropriate' ones to receive this type of message. Well, the person who sent you this believes that we all can make a difference. We all have thousands of opportunities every single day to help realize the 'natural order of things.' So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice: Do we pass along a little spark of love and humanity or do we pass up those opportunities and leave the world a little bit colder in the process?

A wise man once said, every society is judged by how it treats it's least fortunate amongst them.

KEYS TO SUCCESS

It was one of those typical days.  I had worked all day and was very tired; but, as is my way, I still managed to get myself to the gym to face those mountains of iron plates that sit as a challenge to old men trying desperately to stave off the inevitable.

I was on the flat bench; attempting more weight than a man my age should even consider lifting, when I called for assistance with the lift off. In response, a young man answered my call and straddled the bar above me. I was flat on my back, hands extended to the bar, as he stood above me. I couldn’t really see his face from this position, nor did I really care. I was focused on the bar and the weights balancing on each end.

“Lift off?” he asked. I responded affirmatively and he assisted as I lifted the bar from the rack. I wish I could tell you that I had successfully completed the lift but I hadn’t. The young man assisted me as I returned the bar to the rack, and as I turned to thank him, he addressed me by name and congratulated me for my efforts.  It was then that I realized he was a former student.

I searched my memory bank for some clue as to his name, his class and which school I knew him from.  Mercifully, he quickly realized that I did not recognize him and he introduced himself, providing his name, year of graduation and that he had graduated from West Warwick High School.    We continued to make small talk, as former students and teachers often do at a chance meeting many years after, and, as is usually the case, the student often possesses a much better recollection of people and events than the teacher.

It was nice talking with him, even though I remembered little of what we were discussing. It had been too many events, too many kids, and too many years to remember clearly, but I seemed to recollect that he had been basically a good kid, but a young man with a terrible attitude and a horrendous work ethic. It wasn’t until his parting remark that everything came back to me.

As he turned to go back to his workout he said, “You were right, Mr. D., I only have one key.” I knew instantly what he was referring to, because over the years I had told many students the “key” story.  He walked over to me and I sensed he wanted to talk. I motioned for his to sit and he began.

He recalled a “discussion” we had when he was in Grade 9. He remembered that it was after a particularly bad day and I had cornered him at his locker.  He had had several referrals that day, and I had finally caught up with him. He remembered that I had pulled him into an adjacent room and lectured him about his attitude and apathy.  He remembered what I had said, that throughout his life he would encounter locked doors, and only those with enough keys could open those doors and get to see what was on the other side. He said that I had gone on to tell him that those who had collected the most keys as they grew up had the most opportunities for success, and those with the fewest keys would be very limited in determining the direction that their lives would take. He said that I went on to tell him that at the culmination of every level of education, be it high school, a two-year degree at a community college, a four-year college or university degree, a master’s or a doctorate, he would be yet another key.  Other training programs: technical schools, trade schools or apprenticeships also earned you a key.

He went on to say that he heard me that day but and not really listened. He was a teenage kid being lectured by his principal, and he endured the lecture hoping only that it would divert me from suspending him. He didn’t care about keys then because teenage kinds don’t worry about the future and don’t listen to key stories. I knew he was right because kids with bad attitudes and bad work habits don’t live in the future. They live in and for, the present and couldn’t care less about the future.

He didn’t get suspended that day and continued on his way, listening but not hearing. He remembered graduating from high school with a meaningless piece of paper that entitled him to almost nothing, as I had told him. He saw his friends going off to college and he began, for the very first time, wondering what he was going to do.

He said he remembered that story, and thought about it often as he drifted from one dead-end job to another. He recounted the numerous times he had applied for jobs and found them all be behind the “locked doors” and how he never had a key to open any of them. He went on to say that he wished he had really listened that day, because if he had, he would not have wasted 11 years of his life.

He was married now, with two kids, and enrolled in his senior year at Bryant College. He beamed when he told me that he would soon have the keys he needed and how it is never too late to begin collecting them. He went on to say something else that impressed me. He said that he would make absolutely sure that his kids would hear him when he told them the key story.  He was determined that his kids would start their key collection much earlier than he had.

He went back to his workout, and I to mine, and I thought about Ken and I thought about 1965, when I graduated from college, when my mother told me to be less interested in making money and more interested in making a difference.  And for some reason, on this day and in that gym, those metal plates now seemed less daunting and less heavy than they had 20 minutes earlier. I knew that on my next try I would complete the lift. I had just been given the inspiration I needed to reach the next level.

What do teachers make?

The dinner guests were sitting around the table discussing life. One man, a CEO, decided to explain the problem with education. He argued, "What's a kid going to learn from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?"
 

He reminded the other dinner guests what they say about teachers: "Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach." To stress his point he said to another guest; you're a teacher, Susan. Be honest. What do you make?
 

Susan, who had a reputation for honesty and frankness replied, you want to know what I make? I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could. I make a C+ feel like the winner of the Congressional Medal of Honor. I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall in absolute silence. You want to know what I make? I make kids wonder. I make them question. I make them criticize. I make them apologize and mean it. I make them write. I make them read, read, and read some more. I make them show all their work in math and perfect their final drafts in English. I make them want to be doctors, lawyers, teachers, CPAs, businessmen, manufacturers and, yes, even CEOs. I make them think.

I make them understand that if you have the brains, and follow your heart, and if someone ever tries to judge you by what you make, you must pay no attention because they just didn't learn what’s important.
 

Susan paused and then continued....

You want to know what I make? "I MAKE A DIFFERENCE." What do you make?