October 6, 2005
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THE PENNY ROLLERS
The year was 1970, It was my first day of Jr. High School and I was scared to death. I couldn’t find my locker, the upperclassmen were handing out “elevator passes” in our single story school, and I was pretty certain the “Mod Squad” lunch pail my mom had bought me was going to get my ass kicked.
At the
It was on that first day of school that I became acquainted with the penny rollers.
Every morning, some unfortunate teacher was assigned the duty of monitoring the gymnasium. On occasion they would step outside for a few minutes, and it was during those brief unsupervised moments that the penny rollers began their game.
There was a small, dark haired, unkempt boy who attended my school whose name, I later learned, was Nathan. Whenever the teacher stepped out of the room, a small group of boys would begin rolling pennies across the gym floor and Nathan would scurry after them, picking them up and putting them into his pockets, while peels of laughter came from both sides of the gym.
No one seemed to know much about Nathan. Some kids said that his mother was dead. It was common knowledge, though, that his father sold junk for a living. You would often see Nathan riding around town with his father in a beat up old pickup loaded with refuse like a real life “Sanford and Son.” It was obvious that Nathan was poor; not the kind of poor that meant you couldn’t buy the latest fashions, but the kind of poor that made you willing to trade your dignity for a few pennies every morning.
The penny rollers continued their game for the next three school years. On occasion, when they caught Nathan in a restroom, they would throw coins in the commodes to see if he would fish them out. Often he did.
Nathan was in my ninth-grade algebra class. One day we had a substitute teacher who began class by calling roll. When he called Nathan’s name I heard a timid voice behind me say “here”. The sound of his voice startled me; not because it had an unusual timbre but because in that moment I realized I had known Nathan for three years and this was the first time I had ever heard him speak. As I thought about it, it began to make sense. After all, what do you say to people who routinely humiliate you for entertainment?
I patted myself on the back because I had never been guilty of rolling pennies, but I also knew I had never done anything to stop them either.
Earlier today I pulled up to an intersection and saw a man with a “will work for food” sign sitting beside the traffic light. The car in front of me was filled with teenagers. As they pulled up to the light they dumped out all of the empty fast food wrappers they had in their car and yelled “here you go” to the man with the sign. For a few seconds I was back in Jr. High, watching pennies roll across a gym floor.
Nathan, I’m sorry.
Comments (16)
That was a good post. I think we have all seen stuff like you describe and alot of us have failed to speak up. There are incidents that I witnessed, and wish I had the courage at the time to say something.
With any luck, Nathan owns his own business now and is employing those kids in minimum-wage jobs.
Seriously, though: Kids can be mean, even vicious. It’s the rare child who has a fully-developed conscience at that age, and rarer still to have a fully-grown backbone.
Come to think of it, that’s true at any age.
You know, I’m not sure where you got the idea that you left the ministry. Powerful post.
Nothing you could’ve done, for Nathan or the panhandler. At least, nothing that would have changed the other kids’ behavior.
I strongly disagree TR. While something small might not have ever stopped them then and there, over the three years, a quiet voice of maturity can do amazing things. Even still, it may not have had an impact then, but perhaps someday one of those penny rollers might have had an occasion to say “Thanks Mark.” As well.
I heard this tale the first time when I was attending Central Middle School myself. This is one of many examples of the lessons I’ve learned from my Dad. I spent my time getting suspended there at Central, but I also made some friends there with boys like Nathan who’ve stayed close to me since then.
The moral imperitive to stand up for those who are oppressed sometimes doesn’t carry immediate consequences, but it leaves lasting impressions on you, those you stand up for, and those you stand up against.
The world is full of Nathans who are sacrificing their dignity for a higher need than social acceptance or self-actualization. The would would be a much better place if each person would do their part to stand up and help Nathan instead of exploiting his need. (Excuse the rambling, this tale means an extrodinary amount to me.)
I was a Nathan. Invisible misfit until entertainment was needed.
This entry literally made me cry. Seriously, there are tears in my eyes now. I really don’t have anything else to say. Except that this was an emotional real entry that was well written.
Please tell me you were joking about the Mod Squad lunch pail!
That was a great post…sad but unfortunately we are all a part of it in some way, whether it be by observing, being Nathan or being the penny rollers….one day most of us grow up.
Very nice entry! It was moving.
M K
I, too, was close to becoming a “Nathan”. I knew how to fly under the radar. In the upscale community I grew up in, the adults were no better. The teachers would be more concerned about the damage a penny could do to a freshly polished gym floor rather than what it would do to beat a spirit down.
You made me cry.
Mark that was a very moving story. It brought me back to memories of elementary school and a girl in our class that everyone teased because she lived in a small shack with 7 siblings and a mom and dad who didn’t work. The kids would smell when they came to school. My heart always went out to this girl in my class. Her name was Erma. The boys would tease her, and a few of the girls would too. Kid can be so cruel. I would always go home and cry about it as I lay in bed at night I always wondered if Erma had warm blankets on her bed and toys to play with. My mom thought it would be a great idea if a few of us had a birthday party for her and gave her nice gifts, like clothes and such. I remember nearly all the girls in the class attended this party and I had never seen a person get so many gifts. It was the neatest feeling I had ever felt at that young age. The whole class felt good that day. I lost contact with Erma about the time of high school, but somehow I like to think she grew up to be a beautiful woman with a good husband. She was a bright student too, so I can imagine she went to college and became employeed and makes a good living. So I hope she ‘s had “happily ever after.”
What a Great Post….going for another kleenex.
Ohmigosh; this brought back some memories from my school days too. What a wonderful entry from you.
That’s very touching. The Nathans of the world deserve respect.
This story brought back memories for me, too. We had a group of boys in our school that would roll pennies down the hallways during pass periods and lunch, then call anyone who picked them up a “scrounge” and make fun of them. I always thought this was sad behavior. Being a farm community we had a lot of poor kids in school. They were treated like some kind of social pariah, but they were also generally some of the nicest kids, which in and of itself is some kind of miracle in my eyes. To be so maligned and yet so loving and giving. Nice post, Mark. You may have left the ministry, but it is obvious the Lord still works through you.
Thanks for the reminder that we all need to be a little more compassionate.
xoxoxo
Your gift is to not just see something but to think about it ,remember it , learn from it ,grow ,and to write. You are a force for good. Thanks