One of my students is from Peru.
He has been in the United Stated for a little over a year.
How can I describe him?
He has a bowl haircut, and his bangs zig zag across his forehead in an endearing kind of way.
His eyes are the brown of the dirt paths that led up the mountain to his highland village home. They are deep and kind.
His smile is like the sunshine and his laugh is like a cool, refreshing breeze.
I just chose him as a Terrific Kid from my classroom, an award that I’m sure will bring out that smile and laughter for an entire day.
Everyone who meets him knows he is a special kid, one of those people who are born into the world to make it a better place.
I asked him to tell me his story so I could help him write it down.
“When I lived in Peru, I lived in a mountain village,” he said. “The ground was very rocky. We were all very poor.”
“It is good for us to live in America, because my papí and mamí can make a little money,” he continued.
“One time, my mamí went for a job and someone said, ‘No, we don’t want you here,’ and she came home and cried.”
“But I’m glad you want me here, Mr. Barton.”
My heart swelled and sank at the same time.
Has that ever happened to you?
It happens to me often as I read the lives of the students I teach and travel the road of life with them.
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