Something about Belinda’s brave smile looks familiar to me. The briefest shadow darkens her face while other students banter about the gifts they’ve asked for and the ones they’ve already received. Because she’s outgoing, the other kids don’t recognize the proud face she wears while they talk of skiing, sumptuous meals and overseas travel. Belinda never says a word. She just smiles and listens.
Growing up on welfare in a wealthy town, I was hyper-conscious of what everyone had and what I didn’t. I was embarrassed when my mom paid for our groceries with food stamps, counting them out along with dozens of coupons, while women in fur coats wrote out elegant checks with fancy pens. Something about the shadow behind Belinda’s smile reminds me of how I used to feel growing up without in a land of with.
On especially cold or rainy days, when she lets me, I drive Belinda home so she doesn’t have to trudge through the wooded path in her tattered Converse sneakers and thin jacket. Last week she joked about the gasoline cans in the driveway, left over from when her mom ran out of gas. I remember being unable to afford more than a couple of gallons of gas. Rather than ask for three dollars worth of gasoline, we filled up some cans to make it look like we needed fuel for the lawnmower.
I think about the embarrassed young girl I used to be, and I wonder what a teacher might have said or done for me that would have made me feel better. The truth is, there wasn’t anything anyone could do. I didn’t want to be rich like the other kids. I just didn’t want to be poor. I’ve always been a proud person. I recognize the same quality in Belinda.
I wanted to give her a trinket for the holidays, but I feared that she would tell the other kids, which would make me uncomfortable. I also didn’t know how she’d interpret a gift from me. I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable either.
So I thought about what I would have wanted if there had been a teacher who had recognized me as her kindred spirit. What could she have given me that would have made me feel cared for without making me feel embarrassed about my financial situation? Probably just the recognition that I was a kindred spirit would have been enough.
Although she’s been home sick all week, Belinda came in just to drop off a gift for me. Her eyes sparkled at my wide surprise. The gift card she gave me was kind, but what made me choke up was the beautiful letter she had written. Not only had I recognized something familiar in Belinda’s smile, but she had recognized me, too.
Sofen is a middle school writing teacher in Sparta, N.J.
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