Mr. Five's is the kind of man who would leave the war room for the classroom. His desk used to be located in an office at the Pentagon, directly where the plane hit on 9/11. That fateful morning, he probably would have been serving at the pleasure of his commander, who was one of the unfortunate heroes who lost their lives on that awful day, had he not already left the Pentagon a few years before to pursue a softer kind of mission. Instead, Mr. Five had already left our Nation's war machine to become a school counselor at a middle school. Everyday, Mr. Five greets students at the door who experience extreme poverty, students of military families, students of a second language, students of middle class families, some who want to learn, and some who are already convinced they are failures and are unable to meet high academic standards, and anybody else he feels may need a hand or positive influence. The other day, Mr. Five was wearing orange, and captured students wearing orange as they walked in the door for a group photo and quipped, "Orange you glad you're here today?" On another occasion, he noticed his Principal carrying several heavy bags from her car, rushed to help her, and held the door for her. One morning, he rode his bike to work.
On another morning, Mr. Five pulled me aside and told me a story about a great thing that had happened to him earlier that morning. Mr. Five runs every morning. On his route, Mr. Five had noticed that there are a few assorted widows and retirees. As a random act of kindness, he had been putting their newspaper inside their screen doors for a while. That morning he had found a card addressed to the "Mystery Deliveryman." Mr. Five was so touched and tickled that he had received a thank you, and he was pulling aside people in the hallways as they entered the building to show people the good news.
(To be continued)
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