by Barbara Jane Russell Robinson
At the end of the Ď98-Ď99-school term, Michael Clark, one of my seventh graders, said to me, "I will be going into the hospital next week for heart surgery. I want to go into the hospital and get it over with, so I can get well and be back in school when school starts next year."
Michael was not afraid. He had been through heart surgery before, when he was in the lower grades, and he thought his heart would be repaired. Meanwhile, Michael was on a list awaiting a heart from a donor. Michael left school that year thinking he would have me for a teacher the following year. I left thinking I would have Michael in my classroom the next year. Both of us were wrong.
Michael was a brave young man who loved basketball and baseball. He played baseball on a team. Michael was the type of student who could have used his heart condition as an excuse to get out of a lot of things at school, like PE, but he never did. He always wanted to play and participate, just like the other students, and he did.
Michael was small for his age. I remember having him in my class right after he came from his PE class. He was in my seventh hour class, the last class of the day. I remember being concerned about him and having him sit right by my air conditioner because he would come into my class drained, hot, sweaty, and out of breath. He was a wonderful student and a great kid. He had a way of melting your heart. I once told him, "Michael, if it is too much for you, (meaning PE), I am sure you could be excused." He explained to me that he didn't want to be excused. He wanted to be right out there playing and participating with the rest of the kids, and he did until the end.
I will never forget how sad I was when I heard the news, when school started back that year, that Michael was still in the hospital and not doing well. Michael hung on until December. The motor in my van had gone out, and I had to walk to work in the cold that December morning. I stopped off at a small donut shop and bought a donut for a fellow teacher. The donuts were forgotten when I got to school and heard that a morning faculty meeting had been called. What was going on? We never had morning faculty meetings! I walked into the teacher's lounge and heard one teacher say, "That little Clark boy died last night." My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. It was hard news to swallow and somehow I had just held on to hopes and prayers and believed in my heart that a miracle would happen and someday I would see Michael back in my classroom, but that never happened.
I went to that faculty meeting like a zombie in shock. I sat frozen and listened. I attended Michael's wake, and it was so hard to look at that little guy so still, who had been so active the last time I had seen him. Michael was the third student I had lost since I began my teaching career. It only seemed to get harder and harder. His classmates took it hard. I was there for them. A teacher brought two girls to my room and asked me to please talk with them and to see if I could help them because she had not known Michael. I had known Michael very well, and I knew the two girls too. They were both in tears. I called the girls my two Kristys. Michael's best friend, Jason, took it hard as well. The girls and I hugged each other and cried over Michael together. We comforted one another, telling each other that now Michael was no longer in pain, and he was in a better place, watching over us. Then the two girls wrote poems about Michael. Writing seemed to help them express their loss. They found comfort in writing poems about Michael. I typed and submitted their poems to the local newspaper where they were published in memory of Michael Douglas Clark who will always be within our hearts. His body, a temporary tent, may be gone, but his spirit will always be with us.
His mother, Wanda Clark, wrote me a letter thanking me for making her son write. She said because I made him write, she has his writings and has made a scrapbook as a keepsake. She has writings Michael wrote the last year of his life. He left his mother something to remember him by, his written words and thoughts on paper, a powerful memory.
May God bless Michael in heaven and his family on earth. Thank you, God, for having allowed me to get to know them through Michael and for having Michael for the one, short year you loaned him to me. He made a difference in my life and many others during that one short year.
Now his temporary assignment on earth is over, and he has gone home, but he remains in our hearts, and his spirit will always be with us. Michael lost his young life because he was not able to receive a heart in time. After Michael lost his battle, I found out, according to the organ-procurement agency, an agency that matches donor and recipient organs in the state, about twelve people die daily while they wait for transplants. This is in Louisiana alone! Michael's parents felt that though Michael lost his own life, he did what he needed to do for other people who have to await heart transplants.
Michael was a brave thirteen year old, and his fellow classmates wrote out their hearts and souls to express their love for him with the power of the pen and the written word upon his death. May God bless all of those young people as well as Michael and his family. Michael's death was not in vain. He brought those kids closer together that year, and he may have saved who knows how many other people's lives by bringing attention to the fact that more organ donors were needed and how to request a donor form. Michael left my classroom and told me to have a good summer. His last words were about how he could hardly wait to get his operation over and return and be with his friends in school next year. "Goodbye, I'll see you next year," but he left my classroom for the last time that day.
[Note: These were five-minute timed writings Michael wrote in my 7th grade classroom.]
Why Schools Have Rules
by Michael Clark
Schools have rules to keep us safe. They have rules so we can learn. The rules are to keep us from getting hurt, and so we can learn to deal with people we do not know.
by Michael Clark
One day my mom said, "Get up. We are going to the Mardi Gras Fair. We will get to stand by the road and floats will come by and throw us candy and cups."
So, I got dressed, and we drove to town. Then, the floats started coming. The people on the floats threw us cups, beads, and candy, but I saw some people fighting for beads and candy, and sometimes cups.
One man threw me a cup filled with candy and beads, but a boy came up to me and grabbed the cup from me. I gave it to him, because I didnít want to get hurt. Then, the man stepped off from the float and handed me another one. I said, "Thank you."
He said, "You would have done the same thing for me."
by Michael Clark
I canít wait until Christmas. We get to go to my grandmaís house in Alabama. It takes us about three hours to get there, but when we finally get there, it is fun. We watch television for a little while. Then, the next day, we get up and swim for about thirty minutes. Then, we all go back inside by the Christmas tree. We give out all the presents. Everyone starts opening them. Then, itís back to driving home, back to Louisiana. When I get back home, I show all of my friends all the things that I got, and I get to see all of the things that my friends got. After Christmas is all over, I go back to school. Last year, the teacher gave us candy and said, "Merry Christmas!"
[NOTE: Michael wrote and left his little pieces of history behind, providing powerful keepsakes to bring back wonderful memories. He was a student who had a very special heart. I wish to thank his mother, Wanda Clark, for her written permission in letters to publish her sonís writings. It was his motherís wish that this story be shared to help organ donors, as a way for Michael to continue helping!]
Click here to learn How to Become an Organ and Tissue Donor
"Transplantation saves lives, but only if you help. All you need to do is say yes to organ and tissue donation on your donor card and/or driver's license and discuss your decision with your family.
Each day about 68 people receive an organ transplant, but another 18 people on the waiting list die because not enough organs are available.
Talk to family members about organ and tissue donation so they know your wishes. Even if you've signed something, your family may be asked to give consent before donation can occur."
Barbara J. Robinson, award-winning writer and educator, is the author of Magnolia: A Wilting Flower and the soon to be released book titled The Lord had Something Better in Mind. Read a free prologue and poems at her web site by clicking here. Barbaraís books may be purchased at Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble online, and WalMart.com.
Write Barbara at magnolia2002.
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