If I had a nickel for every chick that hatched...

I have the honor of working with my friend, Kelly Nichol-Dime, so named as, when we asked who had been hired to fill a vacant position someone had replied, "Kelly." Not all of us were able to assign a face to that name. "Kelly Nichol," another person clarified. My friend Becky immediately brightened and exclaimed, "Oh! Like the dime?!?" She was quickly mocked for her mistake while I stood there silently, cheeks red, because I had been thinking the same thing. Anyway...for me, the name stuck.

It's not easy being Kelly's neighbor. She is such a great teacher and I often stew over here in Room 24, plotting diabolical schemes on how to derail her career. Kelly Nichol-Dime is a kind and sweet person. Obviously, I despise her. If Mother Earth had given birth to a human child...that off-spring would be Kelly.

After my mass murder of eggs last year, Kelly stepped up to the plate and offered to foster the chicks in her classroom. The babies couldn't wait to burst out of their shells to meet their new mother. All except one little girl. She managed to make a little peep-hole but was then too exhausted to finish the job. This is a cold, cruel world and one of the first lessons we have to learn is that not everybody makes it. But when it comes to her incubated infants, Kelly is more Navy Seal than Mother Nature. Leave no chick behind, was her rallying cry as she descended on the egg armed with a wet paper towel and a toothpick. I watched, in rapt fascination, as Kelly repeatedly moistened the membrane and used the toothpick to carefully pull it back to allow the chick some much needed air. "It's all up to you now, buddy," she encouraged her little pal. We left for the night, hopefully realistic about what would probably greet us in the morning.

Defying all odds, Wilbur (think of the runt in Charlotte's Web) made it but as all of her brothers and sisters had already been shipped off to loving homes, she was one lonely lady. Walking by her room, I spied Kelly eating her lunch on the floor next to the warming lamp to keep her baby company. Wilbur was NOT the silent type...her indignant peeping echoed through the hallways. Kelly used her i-pad to play her lullabies and, before I knew it, had introduced a comforting friend to soothe Wilbur's separation anxieties. The chick loved her teddy bear, nestling into its soft fur and burying her little head under one of its plush arms. I watched in admiration as Kelly cooed over her contented critter. She definitely achieved all her learning objectives. Her students observed the stages of development, they candled the eggs to detect viability, and they experienced the highs and lows of a successful hatching. But more than that, Kelly's kids learned that their responsibilities don't end the minute the chick emerges. Care-taking isn't just about providing the basic necessities of life. Care-taking is also about providing loving comfort and security even after your chick has left its nest. Just like Wilbur is SOME CHICK, Kelly Nichol-Dime is SOMEBODY SPECIAL.