The story of a living, breathing, walking miracle

Before he ever stepped foot in my classroom, my coworkers took a look at my class roster for American Literature and warned me about him. So for the entire week of pre-planning, I was anxious about this one kid named Matthew.

I can only equate it to the fear you may have when you sit down with your dysfunctional family at Thanksgiving dinner. At some point during the meal, gravy will spill, mashed potatoes will fly, voices will raise, and feelings will be hurt. Someone will leave the house mad, and everyone will go to sleep dreading next November.

That’s kind of like seeing the name Matthew on your class roster.

Instead of being excited about the first day of school, I was conflicted and worried. What kind of havoc would Matthew wreak?

To my surprise, when I called his name, he didn’t answer. He didn’t answer for the next week or so, and his name was removed from my roster.

God had heard my prayers.

But then he showed up, three weeks later. Matthew’s right arm was contorted a bit and hung loosely by his chest. His right foot bent to the side, and he had an obvious, troubling limp.

That afternoon, I rushed to the guidance department for some background information. About two years before, Matthew and his younger sister were picked up from school by their mother. The plan was to take him out for his fourteenth birthday. During the drive, a dump truck left its lane and hit the family’s car head-on. Mom and sister walked away with minor injuries. Matthew lost part of his brain.

In addition to the obvious physical effects of the crash, Matthew suffered an injury to his personality. Before the accident, he was a baseball player, popular in school, well-loved and well-behaved. After the accident, he lost baseball and his self-control. He struggled to keep his friends, and in the classroom his behavior was uncontrollable at times. People, including teachers, feared his unfiltered demeanor.

By some random act of a computer, Matthew ended up in Ms. Green’s American Literature class. Lucky me.

Indeed. As the year progressed, Matthew and I became buddies. He was able to control his actions, and I was able to teach uninterrupted.

Matthew taught me two valuable lessons to enhance my life both in and out of the classroom.

Lesson No. 1: Pre-judgements based on other people’s opinions don’t make for a functioning environment. Matthew helped me learn to keep my rosters out of view of my coworkers and establish my own opinions about my students.

Lesson No. 2: Love offers reinvention. Taking the time to accept Matthew as he was allowed him the opportunity to grow out of the stigma that burdened him. It took time and patience, but he and I were able to create a sustainable, trusting relationship.

One day Matthew called me over to his desk. He asked, “Do you want to see some pictures of my wreck?” I answered, “If you’d like to share them with me.”

He added details to the story I had heard. As his father drove to meet the family for lunch, he arrived to the accident site before any rescue vehicles. He immediately recognized the car by a bumper sticker and went to his son. Matthew told how his father took off his shirt and held his son’s head together until help arrived.

The pictures were amazingly horrific, the story unbelievable.

But there he was. A young kid who could hurl a baseball and run the bases now struggling not to stumble down the hallway. An All-American boy who had it all, sharing pictures of a wreck that changed it all.

He needed truth and hope and life spoken into his broken spirit. So, I knelt down at his desk and looked him in the eye.

I said something like, “Matthew, you are a living, breathing, walking miracle. You inspire me. There is something spectacular waiting for you. Something magnificent you were spared for. Do you recognize that? That you’re a miracle?”

I can’t remember if he said yes or no, and ultimately that doesn’t matter. What matters is the seed was planted into the dry but fertile ground of a young man’s heart. And for me? I got off my knees and stood up to a life-changing, career-changing paradigm shift.

This story was originally published August 2, 2016 at 5:51 PM with the headline "The story of a living, breathing, walking miracle."