Coach becomes an internet sensation with heartwarming gesture at youth basketball game

Educators are vital pillars of our community, yet their contributions are often underestimated. It takes a special person to dedicate themselves to teaching, mentoring and motivating young minds.

Jonathan Oliver, a physical education teacher at WG Nunn Elementary in Valdosta, Georgia, is one example of this commitment. He recently earned recognition for a touching moment of kindness during a children’s basketball game.

When kindergarten teacher Kristen Paulk asked for help with her ponytail, Oliver didn’t hesitate. He knelt on a basketball to be at eye level with her and carefully tied her pigtails to make sure her hair didn’t fall into her face. This tender gesture, captured on video, was shared on YouTube by Kandice Anderson, a fellow teacher

The video, aptly titled “When Your Job Goes Beyond Teaching!” quickly went viral and captured the hearts of many. It eventually caught the attention of Good Morning America, which interviewed the 34-year-old father of three.

“I was surprised by the attention because that’s exactly what we do,” Oliver told Good Morning America, unaware of the recording. “We want students to feel at home and loved. For me, wearing a ponytail just helped.”

Oliver mentioned that while Kristen’s request was for a ponytail, his hairstyling expertise was otherwise quite limited. “If she had asked for something else, I would have said, ‘You better ask your mom,’” he joked.

Kristen’s mother, Miyah Cleckley, expressed her appreciation for Oliver’s gesture. “I always know that Kristen is in excellent hands with him. It was especially touching because my husband helps us a lot with our daughters’ hair, as we have five girls and a son.”

There are many stories of teachers going the extra mile, and Jonathan Oliver’s story is a beautiful example of everyday heroes in education.

We would love to hear your thoughts on this touching story, share them in the comments!

She inquired, “What’s the price for the eggs?” The elderly seller responded, “0.25 cents per egg

The old egg seller, his eyes weary and hands trembIing, continued to sell his eggs at a loss. Each day, he watched the sun rise over the same cracked pavement, hoping for a miracle. But the world was indifferent. His small shop, once bustling with life, now echoed emptiness.

The townspeople hurried past him, their footsteps muffled by their own worries. They no longer stopped to chat or inquire about the weather. The old man’s heart sank as he counted the remaining eggs in his baskets. Six left. Just six. The same number that the woman had purchased weeks ago.

He remembered her vividly—the woman with the determined eyes and the crisp dollar bill. She had bargained with him, driving a hard bargain for those six eggs. “$1.25 or I will leave,” she had said, her voice firm. He had agreed, even though it was less than his asking price. Desperation had cIouded his judgment.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The old seller kept his promise, selling those six eggs for $1.25 each time. He watched the seasons change—the leaves turning from green to gold, then falling to the ground like forgotten dreams. His fingers traced the grooves on the wooden crate, worn smooth by years of use.

One bitter morning, he woke to find frost cIinging to the windowpane. The chill seeped through the cracks, settling in his bones. He brewed a weak cup of tea, the steam rising like memories. As he sat on the same wooden crate, he realized that he could no longer afford to keep his small shop open.

The townspeople had moved on, their lives intertwined with busier streets and brighter lights. The old man packed up his remaining eggs, their fragile shells cradled in his weathered hands. He whispered a silent farewell to the empty shop, its walls bearing witness to countless stories—the laughter of children, the haggling of customers, and the quiet moments when he had counted his blessings.

Outside, the world was gray—a canvas waiting for a final stroke. He walked the familiar path, the weight of those six eggs heavier than ever. The sun peeked through the clouds, casting long shadows on the pavement. He reached the edge of town, where the road met the horizon.

And there, under the vast expanse of sky, he made his decision. With tears in his eyes, he gently placed the eggs on the ground. One by one, he cracked them open, releasing their golden yoIks. The wind carried their essence away, a bittersweet offering to the universe.

The old egg seller stood there, his heart as fragile as the shells he had broken. He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face. And in that quiet moment, he whispered a prayer—for the woman who had bargained with him, for the townspeople who had forgotten, and for himself.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, he turned away from the empty road. His footsteps faded, leaving behind a trail of memories. And somewhere, in the vastness of the universe, six golden yolks danced—a silent requiem for a forgotten dream.

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