from trevor’s encyclopedia of lost and beautiful things

I’m sitting beside Geraldine on the carpet in the reading area of my classroom.

She is 10 years old.

I’m talking with her about a wonderful book she’s reading, Ophelia and the Marvelous Boy by Karen Foxlee. 

“Oh Mr. Barton,” she says with a giggle, “I’m just like Ophelia in the story because she’s a curious kind of kid and I’m a curious kind of kid because I want to know everything about everything!”

She becomes serious. 

“But she’s a nervous kind of kid, too, because she’s had a hard life and I’ve kind of had a hard life, too.” 

I look into her earthy brown eyes and think about the ground from which she came, for she came here from the farms and fields of Guatemala with her family. 

For the first time, I notice the faintest of dark circles around her eyes, the slightest of a downward turn at the corners of her mouth, and a hint of tiredness and sadness that shouldn’t often be found on a 10-year-olds face.

“Geraldine,” I ask, “What’s your life like?” 

She tells me her story. 

“I share a room with my Mom, my aunt, my sister, and my two younger cousins,” she begins, “And my family works really, really hard.”

As she talks with me about the book and about her life, a tiny tear appears in the corner of her eye. 

I wonder if it comes from giggles or from sadness. 

I catch the tear in my hand as it rolls off her cheek.

“See how I caught your tear?” I ask. 

“As your teacher, I’m here to catch your happiness and your sadness, Geraldine. 

I’m here to help you learn everything about everything so you can be anything you want to be. 

I’m here to help you and your family.

I’m here.”