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Words of Thanks Linda Milanese Kerschner
We were sitting in a diner on a Sunday morning when I was lamenting the lack of kindness demonstrated in my last workplace, where the people to whom I reported were actively engaged in a program of ignoring any teacher’s accomplishments, in or out of the classroom. I was bemoaning the fact that a simple word could brighten a person’s day, while silence could make that same day dark. At about that time, I noticed a man sitting in a booth by himself with a short stack of blueberry pancakes. His walker was decked out with the cartoon character Mr. Bill. As I watched, a young manager walked over to the booth and made small talk, nothing profound, just a moment of human contact. This exchange made me pay attention. Evidently “Mr. Bill” was a regular. Every couple of minutes, another member of the diner staff stopped by briefly, asking if he needed a fill-up of his coffee, or if the shades let in too much sun. “Mr. Bill” wasn’t eating alone. He was part of a community, which is probably why he was a regular. Under ordinary circumstances, that would have been the end of a warm and fuzzy story, one that I would forget before our check was paid, but that morning was different. I still stung from my decision to leave the career I loved because of the negativity toward the teaching profession and from my own acrimony towards people who couldn’t say a kind word, who didn’t want to notice the hard work our jobs entailed. My stillopen wounds made me want to make a change. Instead of just leaving a generous tip, I decided to say something to my waitress. I told her that I had never encountered a friendlier diner staff. Her smile went from ear to ear. I’m sure that my words made more of a difference to her than any tip I could afford to leave.