The last bell of the year had already rung. Yearbooks passed from hand to hand, papers covered the floor, and backpacks were packed for summer.
One boy waited until the classroom was almost empty.
Then he approached my desk holding a small paper envelope with both hands.
Inside was a Starbucks gift card.
“Thank you,” I said, assuming his parents had bought it on the way to school.
He smiled, but instead of saying anything, he ran after his friends.
I thought about the gift again a few days later when I stopped at Starbucks and used the card. I mentioned casually to the manager that one of my students had given it to me.
She looked at the card.
Then she looked at me.
“Was it from a young boy?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Her expression changed.
“He’s been coming in for weeks,” she said. “And you need to know what he did.”
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