Let me tell you the story.
It was in the early 1970s. I was teaching grade 8 in a small school in the west end of Toronto. In my class I had a student named Tony. He was tall for his age and was a handful to say the least. But he was very likeable and I enjoyed having him in my class.
I was approached by our principal one day and asked if I would take Tony out of French class for a while and shoot hoops with him in the gym. He didn't like French and was giving the teacher a hard time. The principal was hoping that our time together in the gym would help Tony change his attitude and behaviour. I agreed and we started meeting every day for 30 minutes just before lunch.
During one of our hoop shooting sessions we received devastating news. One of our grade two students had been diagnosed with bone cancer in his leg and had to have it amputated. Thus began a journey of connection and friendship that would bond us forever.
After many weeks of therapy to get him used to walking with his new leg Paul returned to school. The principal met with the staff and told us that the prognosis wasn't that great but his parents wanted him to be in a normal and familiar environment for as long as possible. We were asked to be sensitive to his condition and presence in the school. Paul was told that if he got tired of sitting in class he could go for a short walk in the halls. We would keep an eye out for him. On more than one occasion he came into my class just to watch and listen for a little while.
Tony and I returned to our hoop shooting sessions and the school returned to normal. He was making good progress and a connection was being made. We enjoyed our time together.
One morning we saw the gym door open about 4 inches and a pair of brown eyes peeked through watching our every move. We both knew who it was but wanted him to enter when he was ready. We didn't want to rush him. The next day the door opened wider and his face was fully visible. We smiled and went on shooting. It was on the third day that he entered the gym and stood watching with his back against the wall.
It didn't take long for Tony to pass the ball to Paul with a smile and a nod to join in the play. The connection of two boys and a man had been made. From then on the three of us met at the same time, same place five days a week to shoot hoops, laugh and enjoy one another. When Paul found it difficult to make the ball reach the rim Tony would hoist him to his shoulders to make it easier.
Our time together continued until one day Paul couldn't come to school any longer. His cancer had progressed. When this happened we went to his home to visit and play cards with him for money. While no money ever changed hands we did keep a running tally and Paul was far ahead of me in winnings. In fact I received a thank you note from his Mom a few months later and attached to it was a hand printed bill for $600.
One morning the inevitable happened. Our little buddy had passed and our entire school community was crushed by feelings of pain, grief and loss. I went back to class to be with the students and we prayed and shed tears together.
When I got home that night I told my wife that Paul had died and then headed to our bedroom where I wept like a baby for a long time. He was so young, so full of energy and mischief. He was my little friend, my buddy and now he was gone.
Paul's Mom and Dad wanted a private funeral for family only so we didn't get a chance to be there for them in person but they were certainly in our prayerful thoughts.
A few weeks after his death I received a letter from his Mom containing a small coloured photo of a smiling Paul. He had such a refreshing, impish smile. I was so pleased to receive that photo and for over 40 years it has been on my night table. Every night when I retire I pass his image and remember. The fact that he would now be in his 50s doesn't enter my mind. To me he will always be my little Paul.
As for Tony, I haven't seen him since I left Toronto in 1973. I think of him often and wonder where and how he is. I hope the years have been kind to him and that he is happy. I am confident that the three of us will meet again and perhaps shoot a few heavenly hoops. Until then I live in hope with beautiful memories that will never fade.
Mike Moore is a former teacher who now speaks throughout North America on humour, attitude in human relations. If your group would like to look into the possibility of having Mike speak at your next conference visit http://www.mikemoorespeaks.com
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