It was easier than admitting the truth—that most days, we just didn’t have any food left by the time I left for school. My mom worked nights at a dry cleaner, barely making rent, and my dad had vanished a few years earlier, leaving nothing but a stack of overdue bills behind.

So I’d sit in the library during lunch. Pretending to read, stomach growling, watching the clock tick like it was mocking me.

That’s when Ms. Grennan started showing up.

At first, it was subtle. A banana “left behind” on the desk. A granola bar “extra from the teachers’ lounge.” I knew what she was doing. But I never said anything, and neither did she.

Eventually, she just started packing me a sandwich and fruit, handing it over with a soft smile and no questions asked.

It went on for months. And then, one Monday, she was gone.

Not on leave. Not transferred. Just… gone. No one would say what happened. The principal just said, “Personal matters,” and we never saw her again.

I thought about her often.Read More Below