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The situation seemed hopeless. From the first day he entered my junior-high classroom, Willard P. Frank- lin existed in his own world, shutting out his classmates and me, his teacher. My attempts at establishing a friendly relationship with him were met with complete indifference. Even a “Good Morning Willar received only an inau- dible grunt. I could see that his class- mates fared no better. Willard was strict- ly a loner who seemed to have no desire or need to break his barrier of silence. Shortly after the Thanksgiving holi- day, we received word of the annual Christmas collection of money for the less fortunate people in our school district. “Christmas is a season of giving, I told my students. “There are a few students in the school who might not have a happy holiday season. By contributing to our Christmas collection, you will help buy food, clothing and toys for these needy people. We start the collection tomorrow. When I called for the contributions the next day, I discovered that almost everyone had forgotten. Except for Willard P. Franklin. The boy dug deep into his pants pockets as he strolled up to my desk. Carefully, he dropped two quarters into the small container. “I don’t need no milk for lunch, he mumbled. For a moment, just a mo- ment, he smiled. Then he turned and walked back to his desk. That night, after school, I took our meager contributions to the school principal. I couldn’t help sharing the incident that had taken place. | 
