Two local girls recently decided to forgo receiving presents for their birthday from their friends, and gave them to those in need. “I don’t want anyone to be hungry, Mattie Dimmitt said.

Mattie is the daughter of Travis and Elizabeth Dirnrnitt and celebrated her 6th birthday earlier this month. For her birthday, she wanted to do something for other children.

For her party, Mattie’s friends arrived with gifts, but the packages weren’t filled with toys, cans and boxes of food instead. Once her party was over, Mattie, with some help, took the donations of food to the Maryville Ministry Center and presented it to Ministry Center coordinator Merlin Atkins,

“It shows her character. She’s an empathetic kid and she feels things deeply, ”Elizabeth said. “If she sees someone upset, sad or in need. she wants to help them out.”

Mattie was not the only local child who recently decided to give back to their community for their birthday. Mattie’s best friend, Eliana, celebrated her 5th birthday in February and decided that she wanted to give back, as well.

“If we could pay the support and love we get from people forward, it would be a great thing, ”Eliana’s father, Tim Wall, said, "For Eliana’s birthday, she wanted to invite her friends and instead of asking for more toys or presents, she thought it would be a good idea to raise some food for the Ministry Center.”

“For being so young, it’s a blessing to have kids that are living for something more than themselves,” Wall said. “I’m hopeful that it will continue over time and it’s amazing to see kids doing things for others.

In 1974, after filling out fifty applications, going through four interviews, and winning one offer, I took what I could get—a teaching job at what I considered a distant wild area: western New Jersey. My characteristic optimism was alive only when I reminded myself that I would be doing what I had wanted to do since I was fourteen—teaching English.

School started, but I felt more and more as if I were in a foreign country. Was this rural area really New Jersey? My students took a week off when hunting season began. I was told they were also frequently absent in late October to help their fathers make hay on the farms. I was a young woman from New York City, who thought that “Make hay while the sun shines” just meant to have a good time.

But, still, I was teaching English. I worked hard, taking time off only to eat and sleep. And then there was my sixth-grade class—seventeen boys and five girls who were only six years younger than me. I had a problem long before I knew it. I was struggling in my work as a young idealistic teacher. I wanted to make literature come alive and to promote a love of the written word. The students wanted to throw spitballs and whisper dirty words in the back of the room.

In college I had been taught that a successful educator should ignore bad behavior. So I did, confident that, as the textbook had said, the bad behavior would disappear as I gave my students positive attention. It sounds reasonable, but the text obviously ignored the fact that humans, particularly teenagers, rarely seems reasonable. By the time my boss, who was also my taskmaster, known to be the strictest, most demanding, most quick to fire inexperienced teachers, came into the classroom to observe me, the students exhibited very little good behavior to praise.

My boss sat in the back of the room. The boys in the class were making animal noises, hitting each other while the girls filed their nails or read magazines. I just pretended it all wasn’t happening, and went on lecturing and tried to ask some inspiring questions. My boss, sitting in the back of the room, seemed to be growing bigger and bigger. After twenty minutes he left, silently. Visions of unemployment marched before my eyes.

I felt mildly victorious that I got through the rest of class without crying, but at my next free period I had to face him. I wondered if he would let me finish out the day. I walked to his office, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

He was sitting in his chair, and he looked at me long and hard. I said nothing. All I could think of was that I was not an English teacher; I had been lying to myself, pretending that everything was fine.

When he spoke, he said simply, without accusation, “You had nothing to say to them.”

“You had nothing to say to them.” he repeated, “No wonder they are bored. Why not get to the meat of literature and stop talking about symbolism. Talk with them, not at them. And more important, why do you ignore their bad behavior?” We talked. He named my problems and offered solutions. We role-played. He was the bad student, and I was the forceful, yet, warm, teacher.

As the year progressed, we spent many hours discussing literature and ideas about human beings and their motivations. He helped me identify my weaknesses and strengths. In short, he made a teacher of me by teaching me the reality of Emerson’s words: “The secret to education lies in respecting the pupil!”

Fifteen years later I still drive that same winding road to the same school. Thanks to the help I received that difficult first year, the school is my home now.

To most people, noise pollution is a jet flying over their head. For one Spanish woman, it is a neighbor playing the piano. The woman has taken her neighbor to court. Now she wants to send her neighbor to prison for over seven years on the charges of psychological damage and noise pollution.

In a country known for its noisiness, the case has raised eyebrows. Neighbors often complain about street noise in Spain, but people seeking prison time for someone practicing the piano is

On the first day of the trial, the newspaper reported that Bosom told the court she now hated pianos so much that she couldn’t even stand seeing them in a film.Bosom says years of hearing

The court hasn’t made a final decision. A spokeswoman says the trial will end before May.