She was living without a home, being bullied in class, and there was violence in her household. But on the bus ride to school, a white-haired woman in her sixties heard something that would change her year: the girl had no money for the graduation trip. She stopped the bus, walked into the dean’s office, and placed eighty dollars on the desk. “Let the girl go on the trip.”
She wasn’t the only one. Her science teacher, Ms. Bernard, knew the family had nowhere to live. Every so often she paid her twenty dollars to clean the classroom—just so she could buy herself a pizza or do something special on her birthday. The principal let her take extra food from the cafeteria, something that wasn’t allowed for anyone else.
But the person who left the deepest mark on her was Dr. Khan, her marine biology teacher. They talked about sharks, about whales—never dolphins, he didn’t like those—and about music. That year she had changed schools, was taking care of her younger brother, and her stepfather was violent at home. At Christmas, Dr. Khan gave her two gifts: sea salt cookies his wife had baked, and a CD with every song they had ever mentioned in class, mixed with videos of her favorite animals. In the card he wrote: “Remember, you can always talk to me.”