Misery, Death, and Hope

"In spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart. I simply can't build up my hopes on a foundation consisting of confusion, misery and death." - Anne Frank
Getting out of bed this morning, I was treated to the news that Danny "Phantom Dan" Frederici had died. Losing a member of the E Street Band was a colossally bad way to start a day. The music that came out of that man brought me more joy than most of your average keyboardists. I was so impressed, I even bothered to remember his hometown: Flemington, New Jersey. And now he's gone.
My day at school was fueled by my own sense of loss, coupled with the mild to serious antipathy of my fourth graders. It was a struggle at times, but I made it through, in part because I kept thinking about those words from Anne Frank. We were reading her story in class last week. I rode a number of waves of sadness until the day was over. When I was on my way home, I heard someone calling my name. Doubling back, I found a group of kids shooting hoop at a nearby playground. There was one of my students with his brothers and his sister, yelling at me to come see what they could do. As it turns out, the rim on the basket was low enough for the sister, who was the oldest, to almost slam dunk. It was incredibly refreshing to see kids in their element, playing and having fun. They were all glad to see me, and were happy to share with me all their enthusiasm and plans for the weekend. I even got them to consider dropping by the school tomorrow for our Earth Day cleanup.
I rode off with a smile for the first time that day. A few blocks later, I heard more children's voices, calling to "Mister! On the bicycle." These weren't kids from my school, I was in a different neighborhood now. "Do you wanna buy some juice?" There were three of them: probably third graders from their look and level of excitement. I saw they had cartons of juice stacked up on the porch of their house. As I rolled up to he curb, the little girl in pigtails rushed up to me. "Do you want apple, orange, or fruit punch?"
The teacher in me had to ask, "Where'd you guys get the juice?"
"From school. We're selling it to raise money for the kids in Laguna!"
Enterprising and honest. "How much?"
I got three different answers, from a quarter to a dollar. I asked if they had a clean cup. They got even more excited. "Right here," cried the boy as he jumped up to grab one of the red plastic cups they had stacked next to the cartons of juice.
I pulled a dollar from my wallet. "I'll have the orange." The second girl opened one of the small cartons and emptied it into the cup. To my surprise, it was still cold, and since I had missed my lunch dealing with my classroom dramas, quite refreshing. "Now don't go using this cup on your next customer," I reminded them as I finished and handed the cup back to them.
"Thanks, mister!" They gushed. "Thank you for being our first customer!" I rode home feeling really good for the first time in weeks. People really are good at heart.