Narcotics Anonymous

I have a growing collection of Narcotics Anonymous leaflets, handbooks, key chains and leaflets in my desk. If you didn't know better, and you opened the top right hand drawer of my desk, you might think that I am a recovering narcotics addict.

I have a student who's name isn't Danny, but is about as common. Danny is in his forties and is one of the nicest students that I've ever had. He insists on calling me Miss Molly, even after I've asked him not to, participates enthusiastically in class, works with the other students, helps put the books up after class, and thanks me after class. He doesn't always have a smile on his face, but he has the kindliest looking face, and when he does smile, it makes me smile back. Danny also has a five inch scar up his forearm that sinks about a quarter inch down into his skin. It's an inch wide, and the tissue at the edge of the skid looks like a fortress almost.

The first time Danny told me about his scar, he didn't say much. Just that he was a different person back when he was beat up in an abandon house and left for dead. After his first six weeks of having me for a teacher, Danny asked what he had to do to keep me for a teacher. As his luck would have it, he landed in my class again.

One morning, and I can't remember how it ever happened, but Danny told me that he was a recovering narcotics addict. He was shy and scared, and I can't blame him. Saying those things can change how a person views you. I told him about losing a friend to suicide and alcoholism and the confusion of the big, wide world. I told him that no matter what, he could always talk to me if he needed to, and that even if I didn't understand, I would support him.

I also solicited Danny for some help. One of my goals for this fiscal year is to put together a resource binder for our students. Students come to us for all kinds of help. Sometimes it's about housing issues, abuse at home, medical issues, and a gambit of other things. It's aggravating and embarrassing when a person reaches out for help, and you have no resources or even contacts to give them. Sure, you can look up a phone number on the Internet, but that doesn't mean that the information is good any more. I told Danny about my plan and asked if he could bring me a few fliers with meeting times and places.

Danny was good to his word. He has faithfully brought me fliers about the meetings and locations, about admitting that you are an addict, and the 12 steps. One morning, before I'd had enough coffee and 40 minutes before class started, there was a knock on the door. I answered the door, fully prepared to tell the student to come back in twenty minutes. But there was Danny, and I couldn't say no to his smile. "Ms. Molly," he asked as he took off his jacket, "Would you mind reading this to me today?" He handed me his Narcotics Anonymous book with the page marked. I swallowed my humble pie with my coffee, and when I finished, he said thank you, and in earnest, "Miss Molly, did you get anything out of that?" And I had to admit with him, right there, that I needed to change my attitude for the day. "Miss Molly, you're sure not a morning person, are you?"

Last week Danny gave me his six month sober key chain. Today he brought me my own copy of Narcotics Anonymous. I'm not sure if he thinks I'm secretly an addict or if he is trying to help me with the resource binder or if it's his way of fighting his addiction. It doesn't matter what the reason is. I can't tell him no. Meanwhile, my desk drawer will slowly keep filling....