Clay Birds

(c) 2008 G. Mark LaFrancis

NOTE: Natchez author G. Mark LaFrancis traditionally writes an original Christmas story, which he shares with his family and the Natchez community. Here is this year’s story.

The children – twenty-seven of them ages eight and nine – scurried and jostled in the hall outside their classroom as Mrs. Begley squeezed her way to the door.

Mrs. Begley unlocked the door to Room 4 in the Upper Elementary wing of St. Catherine’s School.

“I thought y’all were going to trample me to death out there,” Mrs. Begley said angrily.

“Sorrrry, Mrs. Begleyyyy,” the class said in unison.

“You’re not four years old anymore; you’ve got to learn patience … and manners.”

Mrs. Begley composed herself, rubbed her hands together, and proudly made the annual pre-Christmas announcement, the one she had made for the past fifteen years.

The students had just settled into their seats, some still poked at one another, others made faces.

Mrs. Begley stood still, arms folded, waiting for the students to compose themselves. They did, for they sensed what was coming.

“Class it’s time to work on our Christmas birds – our clay birds – and you know what that means?” Mrs. Begley asked.

“Prizes!” the students yelled.

“Exactly,” Mrs. Begley said pointing her finger in the air. “Every student will receive at least one prize, but the student who makes the best clay bird, the one that is the most special, will receive the best prize of all.”

“An Ipod?” one child asked.

“Oh, no,” Mrs. Begley said. “That’s way too expensive … besides you’d be distracted from your studies.”

“A flat screen TV … in HD?” another student asked.

“‘Fraid not,” Mrs. Begley replied.

More children ventured more guesses: Four wheeler, laptop, trip to Disney World, and on and on…

“No children, this year the prize is a month’s worth of food from The Food Bag, and a freezer from Western Auto.”

Eyes rolled and remarks – “That beats an X-Box,” “‘An’ a flat screen TV,” and “Always wanted a month of broccoli” the student said with sarcasm in their voices.

One student, though, didn’t have much of a reaction at all, except for a deep sigh.

That student was Caleb, one of “those” students, a special education student merged with the “regular” students with the intention and hope both would benefit from the arrangement. Although they spent hours physically together, Caleb and his classmates lived in very different academic and social worlds.

In fact, neither made much of a difference on one another, except for the fact that they realized he was not like them and they were not like him.

So he sighed. The class didn’t understand that Caleb was thinking how wonderful the food would be, and maybe how his mother would hug him tight when he had won. The thought brought a smile to Caleb’s face, one that no one in the room saw, except for Mrs. Begley.

She sighed, too.

Caleb was so hard to reach, she was hard put to teach all the “regular” students, let alone a boy who barely spoke and often seemed on another planet.

Yet, to see Caleb smile brought Mrs. Begley a feeling that the clay bird project meant something to Caleb … something she thought that would indicate he actually was learning something … that she was getting through to him.

“All right, children, a month’s worth of food might not seem like a great prize to you, but I can guarantee you, your parents will love it,” Mrs. Begley said, trying to display enthusiasm.

“Now each of you needs to get your clay block before you leave for the weekend,” Mrs. Begley said. “The rules are simple: make your best clay bird, any kind of bird…”

“…A vulture?” Ethan, the smart guy, asked.

“C’mon Ethan … no, no vulture,” Mrs. Begley said rolling her eyes.

“No, as I was saying … your best bird, and all the birds will be placed before the Nativity Scene for the Baby Jesus to admire. The best bird will be placed closest to Baby Jesus. Our principal, Mrs. Boudreau and I will select that special bird. Oh, yes, one more thing. The student who creates the best bird will have a uniform pass for a whole week!”

“Yesss!” Ethan exclaimed.

Other students had a similar reaction. “That’s what I want,” said Bethany. “Me, too,” said the others in unison.

One by one the students came up to claim their blocks of clay, some bragging about how their bird would be the best, hands down.

“An eagle,” Ethan said. “The best, most proud, best eagle ever,” he proclaimed.

“I love doves,” said Carlee. “Maybe I’ll make a dove.”

“Swans are so beautiful,” said MaryEllen.

Damian said, “Got you all beat: the hawk … now that’s a bird.”

Others declared their creations would be the best.

Except, of course, Caleb, who sat silent in his seat in the back of the room thinking about the food and his mother. Caleb looked over to the Nativity Scene and stared.

“I wish I knew what was going on in that mind,” Mrs. Begley thought to herself. “I truly wish I knew.”

She called to Caleb, “Caleb, do you want to make a clay bird? I’ve got one block of clay left; it’s got a chunk missing, but you can have it.”

Caleb rose from his chair and walked to Mrs. Begley, looked up and smiled at her … another smile she interpreted as something good … maybe a breakthrough.

He reached out his hand and took the block of clay, looked at it and then looked over at the Nativity Scene.

Mrs. Begley watched intently.

“Caleb!” his mother called down the hall. “Mom’s here.”

Caleb ran out the door to his mother holding up the block of clay.

Mrs. Begley explained about the birds and the contest and that Caleb smiled in her class that day.

“Smiled?” Caleb’s mother asked, rubbing Caleb’s hair.

Mrs. Begley answered, “Yes, ma’am, he smiled … and Caleb, you have a most beautiful smile.”

He slid behind his mother, gripping the block of clay.

Caleb’s mother said, “A bird? Well, we’ll try our best … that is if you don’t mind my helping a little?”

“Not at all … not at all.”

Mrs. Begley watched Caleb and his mother walk down the hall, arm in arm, with Caleb clutching the block of clay.

“Caleb,” she thought to herself. “There’s something in that brain and soul of yours; I just know it.”

* * *

The weekend passed and when Monday rolled around the students were abuzz with talk of the clay birds.

Some of the more competitive students were already betting one another.

“Goin’ down,” one stated.

“Right … goin’ down, and you’ll stand by and watch!”

“No contest!”

“No way!”

Mrs. Begley snapped her ruler on her desk, getting their attention. “Students, while this is a contest, it is also a way for you to make something beautiful for the Baby Jesus … remember Christmas is not about winning, it’s about the birth of our Savior.”

She said, “We’ll leave for our Christmas break on Thursday, so your birds need to be here no later than Wednesday morning for us to judge and for the Baby Jesus to appreciate.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the students said in unison, except for Caleb, who stared ahead as he had done so many times.

* * *

At recess, Caleb sat on a bench near the door to the elementary wing, as he had always done, looking at the children play dodge ball and jump rope.

Ethan stopped playing and sneered, “Wonder what kind of bird he’s gonna make … maybe a loony bird.”

The children laughed.

“A bird dog,” another said.

More laughter.

And Caleb just stared.

“I got it,” Cal, one of Ethan’s friends, said, “A bird-brained bird!”

Children exploded with laughter.

And Caleb just stared.

Mrs. Begley pushed open the door, “What in heaven’s name are you doing?” she said in a loud and condemning voice. “Just before Christmas … and you choose to be so cruel. Get in here and head straight for the classroom.”

Caleb rose and followed the students to the room.

As he did, he looked at the Nativity Scene and smiled.

* * *

The next day, the students were subdued in their ranting about Caleb, but muttered under their breath that he shouldn’t be in their class … and even in the competition.

“Not fair,” Ethan said. “He’s gonna look stupid. He probably doesn’t know what a bird is.”

Cal whispered so as not to let Mrs. Begley hear, “Hate to say it, but he hasn’t got a chance … almost feel sorry for him … NOT!”

“You guys are so cruel,” said Amy, who sat next to Caleb. “He may not be like you, but he’s got feelings, too.”

Caleb sat coloring in his workbook. Either he didn’t hear, or he had become quite good at pretending not to hear.

Amy said, “I hope he beats you … and me … and all of us.”

The students burst into laughter, especially Ethan and Cal.

And Caleb sat looking forward.

Mrs. Begley again became angry. “I’m tempted to cancel this whole clay bird project,” she said with as stern a voice as the children had heard. “Obviously you have ignored the whole purpose of the project: to honor Baby Jesus. But I won’t because there are students in this class who respect the idea of making something beautiful for Baby Jesus whether they win or not.”

“We’ll see who wins,” Ethan muttered.

* * *

That afternoon, Caleb sat outside on the back porch, looking at the birds flitter. Winter was moving in, and birds from the north had arrived, creating a concert in his back yard. He often sat watching and listening to the birds, studying them. His mother thought he actually knew what they were saying and what they were doing. She frequently gave Caleb bread crumbs which he sprinkled for the birds to enjoy.

They would dance around near his feet and he even would laugh.

Those were the times Caleb’s mother felt he was meant to be somebody … in his own way, of course.

“Caleb, time to come in … you must be so cold.”

Caleb rose and looked back at the bushes and sky and smiled.

His mother noticed and smiled, too.

After supper Caleb picked up the block of clay from the counter and went to his room.

* * *

In class the next day, the children were excited, revved up almost beyond all control.

This was the day to bring out the birds of clay and place them in front of the Nativity Scene.

One by one, the children revealed their creations. Beautiful doves, magnificent mockingbirds, a bluebird, wrens, and, as Ethan had promised, an Eagle.

“Oooooh,” the class remarked. “That’s soooo gooood,” they said in unison.

Ethan cocked his head and pointed his finger high … Number One … he gestured as he swaggered to his seat.

Almost wishing she didn’t have to ask, Mrs. Begley said, “Caleb? Do you have a bird?”

Her heart pounded with anxiety, hoping that maybe Caleb forgot about the project, hoping that Caleb would sit there at his desk and stare as he had done.

But Caleb didn’t just sit.

Caleb didn’t just stare.

He looked at the Nativity Scene and smiled.

All the other students stared intently at Caleb. Evan Ethan and Cal wondered what was going to happen.

Caleb rose to his feet, a small brown paper bag in his hand.

The silence was so thick it was like a soupy fog through which Caleb walked with ease to the Nativity Scene.

He smiled and knelt down among all the clay birds, those with outstretched wings, necks raised proudly toward the Baby Jesus, claws and beaks ready to defend the Child in the Manger.

Caleb slipped his hand into the brown paper bag, the bag on which all the students’ eyes were riveted … so, too, was Mrs. Begley’s

And Caleb took out a shape of clay, and he kissed it, and put it on the floor ahead of all the others. Then he returned to his chair and smiled.

Mrs. Begley and the students were so stunned, so startled that it seemed minutes before anyone reacted.

But the reaction wasn’t what Mrs. Begley had hoped.

“What’s that?” asked Ethan. “It’s more like bird doo than a bird.”

The class roared, even Amy forced backed a chuckle.

That afternoon, Mrs. Begley admonished the children, made them write lines, and patted Caleb on the back every chance she got.

Just before dismissal, Mrs. Begley said sternly, “I want to tell you all something. This very likely is the last year we’re going to have this tradition. This class has turned something beautiful into something ugly. We can’t have this behavior in our school, especially so close to Christmas. Principal Arnold had spoken. No more. We’re almost tempted not to award the prize tomorrow, but we shall … reluctantly!”

The children were quiet as they left; Ethan especially, for the other students mumbled to him that he was somehow to blame.

* * *

“I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Begley explained to Caleb’s mother in the hall as Caleb stood next to his mother’s side.

“His bird, well, isn’t really a bird, but I thought I’d give him a chance to … well … to”

“Be like everyone else?” Caleb’s mother asked, with a stern tone in her voice.

“Yes … like everyone else … when I saw him smile … I thought … he …”

Caleb’s mother smiled. “You’re so kind, but Caleb is, well, one of those special children who only God really knows. I’m his mother and I don’t know all about him. I love him dearly, but to know him is to accept him without trying to make him something he isn’t. God will decide what he is, not us.”

Mrs. Begley knelt to Caleb rubbed his hair and said, “I love your bird, Caleb, and I love you.”

Caleb had a sparkle in his eye; he hugged Mrs. Begley, and she hugged Caleb tight.

As Caleb and his mother walked arm and arm down the hall Mrs. Begley sighed.

“I’ve been so wrong … I never should have force you to do something you couldn’t do …”

Mrs. Begley returned to close the classroom for the night. She looked over at the Nativity Scene and saw Caleb’s block of misshapen clay. “He tried,” she thought, wondering if she should remove it. “He might not even remember,” she thought. “Save him a lot of embarrassment.”

She decided to leave Caleb’s clay bird just where it was, lumps and all.

* * *

The next morning, the students clamored outside the classroom, a bedlam of arms and legs going all different directions, excited two days before Christmas, that day the clay birds were to be judged, that day that all felt great anticipation of winning.

Ethan was proclaiming victory, “Where is it? Where’s the uniform pass?”

Cal shot back, “My hawk’s the best, dude.”

“I know who’s not gonna win,” Ethan said snorting.

They all knew what he meant as Caleb’s mother brought him to the classroom.

Amy said, “Shut up! You guys are so cruel.”

It was then Mrs. Begley marched down the hall with Principal Arnold behind her.

Angrily, she said, “I thought I warned you yesterday. Sorry Principal Arnold.”

Mrs. Begley turned to Caleb’s mother. “I’m so sorry you had to hear that.”

“Me, too,” Caleb’s mother said. “I thought we were making progress with him in this class, but it seems we may have to, well, return him to the special education program. He so took to the clay bird project … and he actually laughed and smiled at home … you saw it, too, in class.”

Caleb stood silent his arm around his mother.

“I can take him home if you wish,” his mother said.

Mrs. Begley thought … a difficult decision indeed.

But then Caleb darted passed Mrs. Begley and into the room.

He ran to the Nativity Scene.

“Well I guess that answers it,” Mrs. Begley said to Caleb’s mom as the two stood outside the classroom door. “He’s got some spirit in him.”

Inside, though, was a roar of students’ voices that Mrs. Begley had never heard before.

“Oh, no,” Mrs. Begley said. “Maybe you should have taken him.”

The roar became louder and louder.

“Wow!” “Ooooh!” “What the…” “Awesome …” “Cool …”

The students’ seemed overwhelmed and overcome.

Mrs. Begley, Principal Arnold and Caleb’s mother rushed to see the students circling the Nativity Scene.

They couldn’t see Caleb, though.

They saw Ethan and Cal kneeling with a look on their faces that had Mrs. Begley stunned.

In front of the boys was Caleb with a smile on his face.

Mrs. Begley, Principal Arnold and Caleb’s mother drew closer and saw what had the students – Ethan and Cal – enthralled.

Caleb’s clay was nowhere to be seen.

Instead, there on the edge of Baby Jesus’ crib was the most beautiful clay bird … a brilliant blue and white … its wings outstretched like an eagle’s, its eyes so tender as a mockingbird’s, its talons as strong as a hawk’s and its whole body proud and strong and protective.

The room was enveloped in a silence so strong, so powerful it seemed everyone was a statue admiring the Baby Jesus and the beautiful bird perched on his crib.

Mrs. Begley forced back tears.

Caleb sat looking lovingly at his bird his hands clasped; his smile as bright as a brilliant sunrise.

She breathed heavily and tears began to trickle down her face.

Caleb’s mother knelt to embrace her son.

“You did a beautiful job, Caleb,” she said.

Just then a voice said, “That’s not beautiful.”

It was Ethan’s.

The class turned to Ethan.

“That’s awesome,” he said.

“Caleb, that’s so awesome!”

Ethan patted Caleb on the back.

Cal remarked, “Man, cool, way cool.”

“How’d you do that?” Ethan asked of Caleb, who remained on the floor staring at the Nativity Scene with his mother’s arms around him.”

Likewise, the class closed in on Caleb with looks of wonder on their faces. Something magical had happened that day with Caleb, the clay birds and the Baby Jesus, something that was to change their lives forever.

And Caleb, well, he smiled at the Baby Jesus and the bird, the magnificent clay bird.