david's valentine

As best I can recall, there were twenty-five or thirty kids in my first grade class. Every single one of us got a card, if you could call it a card. They were actually little cut-outs or sometimes stickers. "Be my valentine." "Be mine!" I guess some of us guys figured it sorta weird to get a card from another guy, but that would've been reading a lot more into it than was intended. The teacher sent a note to all the parents saying every student in the class needed to leave the party with the same number of cards. So every kid gave a little Mickey & Minnie or Bugs or Superman or Incredible Hulk love to every other kid. It worked out just fine for everybody, but especially for David.

I don't remember anyone in my first year at Waco Elementary being exceptional at anything. David was though. He was especially good at annoying Mrs. Yader. He was unaccustomed to rules, and didn't know how to take anything seriously. He didn't see the need to raise his hand or get permission to talk, that is until the teacher made it clear that he'd find trouble in the form of a paddle if he went to the bathroom, spoke out loud or sharpened his pencil without her approval. David cut line a lot, especially at lunch. But you don't protest much when you know the class entertainer is hungry - and why.

The guys in the class sorta saw David as crazy. The girls thought he was scary. He'd do anything for a quarter - not that they were that easy to come by. Out on the playground David had a good business going. It wasn't unusual for someone to fork over their milk money to watch a kid eat a handful of gravel or bite the janitor's dog or dance on the hood of Coach Turner's car. All it took was a quarter, and the sideshow was on. David was the center of attention for a few minutes and usually walked away with at least a dollar in his pocket. As far as we knew, David was happy with the arrangement.

Valentine's Day was early the next week, so party preparations began the week before. We'd all been given an allotment of construction paper, crayons, glue, glitter and supervised access to the stapler. After decorating the front of one sheet, we stapled the bottom and the edges to create a pouch that would collect our classroom love notes. When we arrived at school on the big day everyone's envelope had been taped to the front of their desk. Just before the 2:00 party was to begin we all sat at our desks and sorted the colorful store-bought cards we'd addressed the night before and played like little mailmen. Except David didn't.

While everyone else was scurrying about the room dropping tiny two-by-three envelopes into pouch after pouch, David just sat at his desk and watched. It was unusual for him to be quiet and still while everyone else was noisy and active. He'd either forgotten about the party, or as most of us knew, couldn't afford to participate. Maybe he ate the note he was supposed to take home. If he made a quarter doing it, everyone knew his family could sure use the money. So, for at least a couple of minutes David just watched. Like everyone else, he received his share of cards, and though he didn't seem like the kind of kid who'd be bothered by such a thing, it appeared to sadden him that he couldn't give back.

It's pretty safe to say that David saw Mrs. Yader as his mortal enemy. He was on his second stint in her grade, and he didn't show her any love or any mercy. She made him mind, and he didn't appreciate it. That changed though on February 14, 1972. I can't imagine I'm the only one who noticed, but no one ever mentioned it if they saw what I did. David's nemesis quietly coaches him to her desk where she gives him a small box full of little envelopes, one for every student. He didn't know it was her signature on the inside, or maybe he did and didn't care. He only knew that he was now part of the action again. It looked like David outdid us all that day. His card came with candy attached. That was the day the teacher became David's Valentine.