My Buddy Stanford

My oldest sons class teacher has this wonderful program where he weekly takes his fifth grade class to a retirement facility where the students are assigned a buddy for the entire academic school year. It’s impressive. I’ve watched kids who would never speak to someone above the age of 90 overnight befriend those who have in many ways been cast aside because they are about done with life. Here is a poem my son wrote about his buddy…

My Buddy Stanford

My first days at R.O.P
I didn’t really care,
My buddy Stanford and I
Had nothing really to share.

He had a disability
My dear old buddy Stanford,
He cannot sing or speak
So he points to letters on a board.

At first it was very tough
To see what he had to say,
But I enjoyed to visit my buddy Stan
Every week on Friday.

And as the weeks were flying by
I loved to see his smile,
His eyes, his motions, his pointing to letters
I enjoyed it all the while.

Although he couldn’t speak to me
It didn’t really matter,
I couldn’t wish for my times with Stan
Could be any better.

If I had a special choice
To give someone a crown,
I would choose my buddy Stan
Because he never frowns.

My times with Stanford have been really great
All throughout the year,
And the fading years of his golden life
Aren’t even near.

Trust me when I say that right when you think public school education is about to fall apart, along comes my sons teacher. He had a dream a mentor of his had in teaching kids how to relate with older adults. The dream continues every Friday around 10:30am. We can’t be more pleased.


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