This morning began like any other—classroom bustling with activity, kids tuned into their lessons, and a quiet hum of daily school life. But then, the unexpected happened. An accident disrupted the routine. It might have been a spill, or a sudden bump—nothing serious—but enough to create a momentary scramble.
Amid that flurry, Mr. Terrence—our normally behind-the-scenes custodian—stepped forward. Unfazed by the chaos, he went straight into action. By the time I’d escorted the affected child to the nurse’s office, something remarkable had happened.
I returned to a transformed classroom. The floor was spotless, the desks clean—everything in its proper place. But the real surprise was yet to unfold.
There was Mr. Terrence, not disappearing after his quick clean-up. Instead, he was there, seated at a low desk, surrounded by curious young faces deeply engaged in their math journals. He wasn’t rushing off. Instead, he was explaining problems, gently guiding them through challenges, and cheering them on as they solved equations.
In that moment, I felt something powerful: a sense of belonging, of community, and of kindness in action. A custodian had become a mentor, a helper—and in the simplest of ways, a symbol of everything our school stands for.
Our building isn’t held together by bricks and mortar alone—it’s built from moments like these. Moments when one person sees a need and responds, not out of obligation, but out of genuine care.
Kids learn more than math here. They learn that people matter—that support can come from wherever, and that mentorship isn’t bound by job titles. Mr. Terrence showed up today not just with cleaning tools, but with patience, encouragement, and attention. And that made all the difference.
It’s a gift when kindness becomes part of the curriculum. And today, Mr. Terrence taught a lesson that goes far beyond any worksheet.