Professor Ernesto Ramírez taught Literature at a public high school on the outskirts of Mexico City , near Iztapalapa . He was known for his serious demeanor, his few words, and his almost antiquated discipline.
He never attended faculty meetings or school celebrations. For the students, Don Ernesto existed only within the classroom.
After classes, he would return alone to his small room in an old housing complex, eat a simple dinner, and go to bed early.
No one understood why such a cultured and kind man had spent his entire life without starting a family.
Everything changed one summer when Don Ernesto found Miguel , a seventh-grade student, huddled under the school roof during a torrential downpour.
Miguel’s left leg had been amputated below the knee and was wrapped in dirty, soaking bandages. Beside him was just a cloth bag containing old clothes.
When he asked, Don Ernesto learned the truth: Miguel’s parents had died in a car accident.
No relative wanted to take responsibility. The boy had spent days wandering between bus terminals and abandoned yards… until he found refuge at the school.
Don Ernesto did not hesitate.
She asked the principal for permission for Miguel to stay temporarily in the old gym storage room and, quietly,
used the savings she had inherited from her parents to renovate her tiny kitchen and give the boy a decent place to sleep.
Soon, the whole school found out. Some admired him silently; others murmured that he was crazy, that he was looking for unnecessary trouble. Don Ernesto just smiled.
For years, she woke up before dawn every morning to make atole and bread for Miguel.
After school, she would take him by bicycle to the public hospital for therapy, wait for hours in line, and then they would ride home together.
She would ask for used books so Miguel wouldn’t fall behind when he missed treatment.
—“Everyone has their own children to support,” some would say cruelly.
Don Ernesto would calmly reply,
“This child needs me. That’s enough.”
When Miguel entered high school, Don Ernesto continued to drive him every day, even though the school was more than five kilometers away.
He was afraid the boy would feel self-conscious because of his prosthesis, so he spoke with the teachers to arrange for him to sit in the front of the class, where he could concentrate without uncomfortable stares.
Miguel never disappointed. He studied with discipline and gratitude.
After finishing high school, he was accepted into the National Pedagogical University in the north of the city. The day he left, Don Ernesto saw him off at the North Bus Terminal , repeating the same words over and over:
—“Eat well, take care of your health. If you need anything, write to me. I don’t have much, but you are my greatest pride.”
While Miguel was studying, Don Ernesto continued living alone. He gave extra classes to send him money. He refused any attempts to arrange a match.
—“I’m used to this life,” he said. “I just want to see him graduate.”
And then the day arrived.
Graduation day.
On the university campus, students threw their graduation caps into the air. Miguel held his diploma with trembling hands, searching the crowd for Don Ernesto’s familiar face.
But he wasn’t there.
Miguel called again and again. No answer. Just a few days earlier he had received a letter with firm handwriting:
“When you’re finished, come back and tell me everything.”
A bad feeling came over him. Without waiting, Miguel took the first bus back.
When we arrived at the housing complex, it was already night. Don Ernesto’s worn sandals were still in front of the door.
Inside, the lamp was on. Don Ernesto was sitting on the edge of the bed, with a planning notebook in his hands, as if he had fallen asleep.
The head of the neighborhood committee spoke with a broken voice:
—“We believe he was waiting for you… his heart was already weak.”
Miguel fell to his knees. He wept like never before. His diploma fell to the floor next to an old notebook.
Inside, he found pages and pages of bills for medicine, books, transportation… and at the end, a sentence written in smudged ink:
“If he grows up to be a good person, my life will have been worth it.”
The funeral was simple. Former students filled the schoolyard. The headmaster said through tears:
—“Don Ernesto didn’t have biological children. But thousands of us learned to be people thanks to him.”
Miguel decided not to return to university.
He applied for a teaching position at the same high school where Don Ernesto had taught. He lived in the same room. Every morning he would leave a sheet of paper on the desk and write:
“Teacher, I will try a little harder today.”
Years later, Miguel became one of the most beloved teachers… until one day he met Luis , a sixth-grade boy who stayed after school trying to walk on one leg, too ashamed to ask for help.
Miguel saw his own past in him.
And he did again what they had once done for him.
He accompanied him, supported him, and defended him.
One day, some cameras recorded the scene without their knowledge.
The video went viral.
Millions wept.
When asked where so much kindness came from, Miguel replied:
—“I am simply continuing what my master did not finish.”
Under an old jacaranda tree, Miguel had a plaque placed that read:
“Thank you, Don Ernesto.
You taught us to be human beings before we were students.”
And so, the circle was closed.
But kindness…
that never ends.zexoads.com
When Miguel entered high school, Don Ernesto continued to drive him every day, even though the school was more than five kilometers away.
He was afraid the boy would feel self-conscious because of his prosthesis, so he spoke with the teachers to arrange for him to sit in the front of the class, where he could concentrate without uncomfortable stares.
Miguel never disappointed. He studied with discipline and gratitude.
After finishing high school, he was accepted into the National Pedagogical University in the north of the city.
The day he left, Don Ernesto saw him off at the North Bus Terminal , repeating the same words over and over:
—“Eat well, take care of your health. If you need anything, write to me. I don’t have much, but you are my greatest pride.”
While Miguel was studying, Don Ernesto continued living alone. He gave extra classes to send him money. He refused any attempts to arrange a match.
—“I’m used to this life,” he said. “I just want to see him graduate.”
And then the day arrived.
Graduation day.
On the university campus, students threw their graduation caps into the air. Miguel held his diploma with trembling hands, searching the crowd for Don Ernesto’s familiar face.
But he wasn’t there.
Miguel called again and again. No answer. Just a few days earlier he had received a letter with firm handwriting:
“When you’re finished, come back and tell me everything.”
A bad feeling came over him. Without waiting, Miguel took the first bus back.
When we arrived at the housing complex, it was already night. Don Ernesto’s worn sandals were still in front of the door.
Inside, the lamp was on. Don Ernesto was sitting on the edge of the bed, with a planning notebook in his hands, as if he had fallen asleep.
The head of the neighborhood committee spoke with a broken voice:
—“We believe he was waiting for you… his heart was already weak.”
Miguel fell to his knees. He wept like never before. His diploma fell to the floor next to an old notebook.
Inside, he found pages and pages of bills for medicine, books, transportation… and at the end, a sentence written in smudged ink:
“If he grows up to be a good person, my life will have been worth it.”
The funeral was simple. Former students filled the schoolyard. The headmaster said through tears:
—“Don Ernesto didn’t have biological children. But thousands of us learned to be people thanks to him.”
Miguel decided not to return to university. He applied for a teaching position at the same high school where Don Ernesto had taught.
He lived in the same room. Every morning he would leave a sheet of paper on the desk and write:
“Teacher, I will try a little harder today.”
Years later, Miguel became one of the most beloved teachers… until one day he met Luis , a sixth-grade boy who stayed after school trying to walk on one leg, too ashamed to ask for help.
Miguel saw his own past in him.
And he did again what they had once done for him.
He accompanied him, supported him, and defended him.
One day, some cameras recorded the scene without their knowledge.
The video went viral.
Millions wept.
When asked where so much kindness came from, Miguel replied:
—“I am simply continuing what my master did not finish.”
Under an old jacaranda tree, Miguel had a plaque placed that read:
“Thank you, Don Ernesto.
You taught us to be human beings before we were students.”
And so, the circle was closed.
But kindness…
that never ends.
