I will refrain from giving the school’s name, and the student’s name, to protect his identity, privacy, and dignity. It was over forty years ago. I had been teaching for over a decade. I loved teaching. It gave me purpose, joy, and I learned something every day. I had one student – I will give him a fictitious name – let us call him “Dan.” Dan always wore fashionable accessories, and wore fancy-style wristwatches, a different one every day. I complimented him on his choice of wristwatches. He was pleased. We bonded. As a teacher I would go to school early to arrange the desks, clean them, open the windows, and write on the blackboard.

One day, I arrived early, I approached my classroom and noticed the door unlocked and opened. I stopped in my tracks, shocked to see the window open. Danny was standing on the ledge ready to jump to the concrete street below! I was more than fifteen feet away and would not be able to stop him. The school was in New York City. It was seven stories high and built during the Great Depression. It had red bricks and was constructed as part of the WPA. It was a solid brick structure and had an Olympic size swimming in the basement. We were on the seventh floor, the top floor of the building. If he jumped, he would crack his skull. So, I said, “Danny, before you jump, can I have your watch? I always love your wristwatches. I would hate to see it smashed.” He stepped down from the ledge and proceeded to remove his wristwatch. This gave me time to reach him, and I held him tight and yelled for security. Danny was taken away, I do not know by whom. School counselors did not speak about this incident.

I did not see him until thirty years later. I was teaching in a different school. I often thought about what might have happened to him. A man in his fifties walked into my classroom. Without saying a word, he lifted me up in front of whole class by announcing, “This man saved my life.” The class was stunned. I was shocked. I did not recognize him, but his voice was familiar. As he spoke, I realized who he was.

“Danny, whatever happened to you? When I inquired about you, the guidance counselors were silent. I wished you well. Teachers must remain socially distance and not let their emotions become sloppy. So, I never dwelled on the subject and moved on. But now you are standing in front of me. What happened Danny? Why did you attempt suicide?”

Danny said, “My father and my only brother were killed in a car accident. Thank you, Mr. Tomeo, for giving me a second chance. I am very happily married. I have a son. I named him Vincent.”