this made me weep!

I got this in an e-mail from a friend at work. This story let's everyone know how important for us to have friends. While I am new at this site - I want to think of you all as friends. Hope this makes you think. Sorry it is a little long

There's a good moral to this one.
One day, when I was a freshman in high school, I saw a kid from my class was walking home from school. His name was Kyle.
It looked like he was carrying all of his books. I thought tomyself, "Why would anyone bring home all his books on a Friday? He must really be a nerd."
I had quite a weekend planned (parties and a football game with my friends tomorrow afternoon), so I shrugged my shoulders and went on.
As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running toward him.
They ran at him, knocking all his books out of his arms and tripping him so he landed in the dirt. His glasses went flying, and I saw them land in
the grass about ten feet from him. He looked up and I saw this terrible sadness in his eyes.
> > > > > > > > >>
My heart went out to him. So, I jogged over to him and as he crawled around looking for his glasses, and I saw a tear in his eye.
As I handed him his glasses, I said, "Those guys are jerks. They really should get lives." He looked at me and said, "Hey thanks!"
There was a big smile on his face. It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude. I helped him pick up his books, and asked him where he
lived. As it turned out, he lived near me, so I asked him why I had never seen him before. He said he had gone to private school before now. I would have never hung out with a private schoolkid before.
We talked all the way home, and I carried some of his books. He turned out to be a pretty cool kid. I asked him if he wanted to play a little football with my friends. He said yes. We hung out all
weekend and the more I got to know Kyle, the more I liked him, and my friends thought the same of him.
> > > > > > > > >>
Monday morning came, and there was Kyle with the huge stack of books again. I stopped him and said, "Boy, you are going to really build some serious muscles with this pile of books everyday!" He just
laughed and handed me half the books. Over the next four years, Kyle and I became best friends. When we were seniors, we began to think about college. Kyle decided on Georgetown, and I was
going to Duke. I knew that we would always be friends, that the miles would never be a problem. He was going to be a doctor, and I was going for
business on a football scholarship. Kyle was valedictorian of our class.
I teased him all the time about being a nerd. He had to prepare a speech for graduation. I was so glad it wasn't me having to get up there and speak. Graduation day, I saw Kyle. He looked
great. He was one of those guys that really found himself during high school. He filled out and actually looked good in glasses. He had more dates than I had and all the girls loved him. Boy, sometimes I was jealous.
Today was one of those days. I could see that he was nervous about his speech. So, I smacked him on the back and said, "Hey, big guy, you'll be great!" He looked at me with one of those looks
(the really grateful one) and smiled. "Thanks," he said.
As he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began. "Graduation is a time to thank those who helped you make it through those tough years. Your parents, your teachers, your siblings, maybe
a coach...but mostly your friends. I am here to tell all of you that being a friend to someone is the best gift you can give them. I am going to tell you a story." I just looked at my friend
with disbelief as he told the story of the first day we met. He had planned to kill himself over the weekend. He talked of how he had cleaned
out his locker so his Mom wouldn't have to do
it later and was carrying his stuff home. He looked hard at me and gave me a little smile. "Thankfully, I was saved. My friend saved me from
doing the unspeakable." I heard the gasp go through the crowd as this handsome, popular boy told us all about his weakest moment.
I saw his Mom and dad looking at me and smiling that same grateful smile. Not until that moment did I realize it's depth.
Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture you can change a person's life. For better or for worse.
God puts us all in each other's lives to impact one another in some way. Look for God in others.

Adymarie,

Great story! I was also one of those "nerds" and was picked on immercifully simply because I happened to be the new kid in town. I write a story for my newspaper right after the Columbine shootings regarding being "different". Here it is:

CLIQUES, GOTHS & DOOM
STUDENT INSIGHTS ON THE PRESSURES, PAIN AND PERSONALITIES OF HIGH SCHOOL -- THEN AND NOW
NAMES, LIKE STICKS AND STONES, CAN HURT

I read the headlines and watch the news and still I wonder. Why is it so wrong to be different? Instead of black or white, Jewish or Protestant, different or normal, whatever happened to the words ``respect'' and ``human beings?'' The words have gotten lost somewhere along the way.

As a new kid on the block in Wethersfield, I too was treated differently. I was a social outcast, called awful names and bullied to the point where my older brother had to walk me home from school every day.

My parents, who were involved in my everyday activities, assured me that things would get better. I avoided the bullies of my generation. Yet they sought me out. Why, to this day, I don't know.

My parents always taught me to treat people the way I would want to be treated and I do. It is every parent's responsibility to be involved in their children's lives, everyday and not just when there is a problem.

Is it difficult for young people in today's society to hold a door open or pay a compliment to someone who is labeled by their peers as a ``social outcast'' or ``different,'' rather than shove them as they walk down the hall or call them hurtful names?

Are we not all entitled to an education sans harassment and violence as every human being has a right to? Whoever coined the phrase ``sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me'' couldn't have been more wrong.

``Ploppo'' and ``King Rat'' were only a couple of the names I was forced to endure as a kid. I had tacks put on my chair, crayfish eyes thrown at me in biology and was even spit on.

I tried to ignore the awful things that were said and done to me. But words and actions are like a brand, they burn in one's flesh and mind and can never be retracted.

I made very few friends in school. The ones I have remained true friends throughout my life. But for the most part I kept to myself, playing with the local children and kids from my old neighborhood.

The locals played with me because the rest of our classmates were not around to witness it. When school was in session, I did not exist. And to be seen with me or acknowledge my existence would make them ``like me.''

In high school, I never hung around with my classmates, choosing instead to socialize with kids from a local West Hartford parochial school. They treated me like any other human being. Most of them remain some of my closest friends.

Every once in a while, either on the street or at class reunions, I see some of those old bullies and think back to those days and how times have and have not changed.

We have all matured into law-abiding citizens with children of our own. Yet times have also changed in the way people cope with being labeled different.

Rather than walking away from a bad situation as I did, they are finding ways to even the score, hurting innocent victims in the midst of their anger and ending their own lives, leaving their families to pick up the pieces and answer society's question as to why such a horrible tragedy occurred to begin with.

I was treated as an outcast during my years in school because I was Mexican. The popular students at school, especially the football jocks, always had something nasty to say to me or about me. Always, the first day of school, I try to make friends with all the new people before they hear stuff about me. It never worked. They find out that I am the laughing stock of the school. I did manage to make a few friends-other outcasts.
Once when I was in the third grade, there was a new girl in my class. When I arrived in class and I was putting my jacket and bag in the locker, several of the students came to me and laughed. They were laughing about the new girl. And they warned me that she looked ugly and fat. I did meet her. Her name was Kelly. She was fat but she really had a nice personality. Inspite what anyone else thought, I made instant friends with her. The other students picked on me because I made friends with the outcast. Because of my experiences as an outcast, I've learned never to judge anyone before I've actually meet them and get to know them.

Donna, The story you wrote was great! I can relate SO much!!
When I hit puberty, about 12, or 13 years old, I suddenly gained alot of weight. The kids who used to be my "friends" (and I use that term loosley) suddenly stopped hanging out with me...the boys started picking on me and calling me fatso, and ugly. I was really short, too so that didn't help, it only made me seem fatter.
Into Jr. High it got worse. I was picked on so badly that I even had to change school buses, and my parents had to drive me into town to catch the bus, instead of taking the one that went by my house, because the bullies on the bus would pull my hair, spit on me, etc....and I would come home in tears every day. I didn't even want to live.
By high school I had lost most of the weight, but noone cared. I was marked as unpopular, and thats the way it stayed. Noone asked me out, I was still treated as an outcast, and my best friend (to this day) Lori, was also overweight and made fun of, so we hung together.
When I was 28 years old, I went to my 10 year reunion. Lori went with me. We basically wanted to show these people that we weren't the low life scum of the earth anymore (not that we ever were), and Lori had lost over 100 pounds, and I had lost alot also, I was actually wearing size 3 jeans!! (OMG!!) (That was about 25 lbs ago...:LOL: )
anyway, we both looked really great, and we showed up, and everyone was still in their little "clicks" and didn't give us any more time of day than they ever did and we thought..."why the h*ll are we wasting our time on these people???" so we left. And I did not go to my 15 year reunion, and am not planning on going to my 20th either (which will be in 2004) Those people will never change.

My son had a very difficult time in school because he has ADHD (he is hyperactive). He was diagnosed at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN after about four days of testing. My son's diagnosis is accurate, this disorder is real, and very serious, but it isn't always thought of that way.

Because of all the problems with teasing my son was putting up with at school, he went out of control and started getting aggressive and violent. My son's teachers and I, and also his doctors at Mayo were concerned enough to make sure my son got the help he needed and deserved.

I think that at least some of the kids that have had their lives ruined because they started shooting people at school, may also have ADHD. If parents are concerned enough to realize when their kids are having serious problems it can make a big difference.

My son is older now, and doing well.