This is a part of a whole story I wrote.
I was thinking about this part today.
As a teacher, I hope to be an oak tree for my students.
Many times they are oak trees for me.
My co-workers, too.
All in a day in public school.
OT
Willie Brown looked like an oak tree.
He was tall and strong.
Even though he was in his sixties, his legs still looked like large, round tree trunks and his arms like big, bulky branches.
His skin was mahogany brown, like the color of an oak tree underneath it’s bark.
His eyes were the most noticeable thing about him.
They were a well of questions and answers, hope and suffering.
The color of oak tree sap, they contained plenty of kindness with a hint of hardness.
He was the janitor of the building, humbly working day after day, sweeping and scrubbing floors, washing and wiping walls, and fixing electrical and plumbing problems in people’s apartments.
He was always there.
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