One day Kolton got in trouble at recess and the decision was made to send him home. His father showed up and the screaming began � "I don't want to go home; they'll put me in a foster home! Please don't let them send me to a foster home!" He left with his father, and I went home that night with a very heavy heart. I wanted to help this child out so badly, yet he took so much energy from me every day. Eventually, Kolton's uncle came in and told me that Kolton and his dad had moved. He handed me a note from Kolton. The note had four simple words, "Teacher, I love you, Kolton." That day I cried. Simple notes, simple sweet hugs. This is why I teach. — Sharon Cafferty, Washington Elementary

Berryessa read each e-mail as it arrived at his office and then forwarded it to me. He was receiving so many that at one point he asked me if I wanted him to stop forwarding the e-mail.

"Doug," he wrote, "This is unreal. I finish reading one, get choked up, send it to you and another one has arrived."

The first year I taught at Bingham High, I had a dad call and ask me if I would accept his son in my 12th-grade college prep English class. The boy had been in an automobile accident at about age 12, suffering serious brain damage. Though the boy had been assigned to resource classes ever since, the dad believed that his son was capable of more rigorous work. I said we could give it a try.