A Catch from the Heart

A Catch from the Heart

The sun was just breaking over the tree tops slowly evaporating the dew of cool Monday morning when I walked outside to find a missing student. A crying boy hugging a nerf football as if it was a life line refused to come into school. Sucking his thumb and sobbing, he looked up at me and I could tell by the lack of sparkle in his eyes that somebody had hurt this boy. My heart sank as I walked a hurting boy down to our second grade classroom.

After days of following him around on the playground and asking him to play catch, DJ tossed me his football. I caught it and carefully tossed it back. A smile crossed his face as the ball was safely returned to his out stretched arms. DJ was letting me into his world.

DJ and I started down a path that day. He would toss me the football and I would toss it back. DJ would borrow school supplies and return them at the end of the day. Our simple game of give and return was building trust.

The custodian hired DJ to clean tables earning enough money every day to pay for his lunch. A proud boy earned his way instead of taking a handout. The kind lunch ladies would sent home extras in his book bag. A hungry boy became satisfied.

DJ slowly became friends with classmates. A nonreader became a reader and with each new book his eyes would sparkle understanding that hard work leads to accomplishment. DJ was becoming a student.

I was feeling confident that we could end his hurt when evil returned to my little friend’s life. I couldn’t look the other way as bruises appeared. Addiction once again found his family. DJ was sinking back into his shell holding his football.

The call to children services was made and DJ’s life improved for a few days. He smiled and laughed as my parents played with him on the playground. I can still see him laughing as my mom swung back and forth and her shoe flew off.

That is my last memory of DJ. He disappeared that night. His sister and he disappeared in the middle of the night. His Dad could not be found. The police had no clues.

My nose began to sting as I fought back tears in the principal’s office. What had I done? What if I didn’t call children services? What if the unthinkable would happen? My principal did his best to comfort me.

Summer came and went. A new school year started and a fresh faced group of second graders were ready to learn. I knew I had to just move on and embrace the challenges of the new school year when the office received a phone call from Georgia.

My heart sank as I retrieved the note in my mailbox to see the principal in regards to DJ. I walked in his door as he finished a phone call. He smiled and simply said DJ is safe in Georgia.

His Dad drove through the night to an aunt’s house. Leaving his kids and telling his aunt that he would return in a few days. He never did.

The principal put his hand on my shoulder as I sobbed. He handed me a note. Through my tear filled eyes, I read the words, “Tell Mr. Oxley, I said hi and I still like playing catch.”

Twenty school years have come and gone, but the thought of DJ will still bring tears to my eyes. I remember the day he read and the day he smiled. I remember the horrendous nature of his life and the day he disappeared.

Most importantly, I remember what DJ taught me. Let educational critics say what they want. The measurement of our worth is not found on a state assessment or in a letter to the editor. What matters is that we are there when children need us most. We are there when a hurting child needs compassion and love. I learned that a child knows we matter and that is why we go to school.