Becky Zachmeier has been a teacher for 10 years. She is currently an assistant principal at Brown Elementary in Denver, Colorado.

While teaching at an inner city elementary school, I encountered a child who, although being temporarily forced to live in the family car, still managed to attend school without absence. I will call her "Grace."

Grace was a beautiful child. She was in first grade. She lived with her father and older brother. Her brother was a second-grader in our building. Her mother was in prison. The family struggled with poverty and had fallen on hard times. Oftentimes in the morning, Grace would appear for her school breakfast in dingy, rumpled clothing, with messy hair and sleep still in her eyes. I was not the only one who noticed this; the other students noticed as well.

As her teacher, I decided to "go the extra mile." On a daily basis I would provide her with a fresh change of clothingthings my own daughter had outgrown. I would take her clothing home, wash it and return it to her as clean options on another day. She began to come to my classroom early in the morning. She would get her clean clothes, take them to the restroom, change, and return her laundry in the same bag. She then would conduct some simple hygiene and grooming with the toothbrush and hair accessories that I provided for her.

This morning ritual continued for a few weeks. Grace now had a fresher appearance, but her body was increasingly tired and she began to drag. Once, during our reading time, she and another student climbed into my fluffy armchair and were buddy reading. Soon, the other student came to me and said, "Grace fell asleep." I looked and there was Grace sound asleep in the big chair. I decided to let her doze, knowing that she needed the rest.

The class and I moved into shared reading. Grace slept. We took a bathroom break. Grace slept. The students went to work in the computer lab during my planning time. I stayed in the room while Grace slept. Grace slept for four hours! While she slept, I wrestled with the idea of waking her. She was missing out on instruction. She was already behind. She needed these lessons! But, I just couldn't wake her. She looked so peaceful. I imagined her sleeping in a car with her dad and brother and all the noise of the city intruding into her dreams each night. I told myself that when she was rested she would be much more able to complete her work. She would be more focused and could catch up quicker. I thought of the high level of trust she must have to be able to sleep so comfortably in my class. I did not disturb her.

Grace woke up that day when the bell rang. We gathered her things as the other students raced from the classroom. I held her hand and walked her toward the curb, where her father awaited, honking. She turned, hugged me and said, "I wish you were my mom." Then she slid into the car. She waved and flashed a great smile as they drove away.

That was the last day I saw Grace. Her family did not return to school. Friends of her brother said that they moved to another town. When I was packing my classroom at the end of the year, I found her hygiene box in the closet and felt a little heart pang because I know that Grace taught me something about myself. She taught me that I would never regret going the extra mile. She is one of the reasons I teach, and I know I will never forget her.