Every December, Eau Claire DeLong Middle School’s special education department holds a holiday sale in the teacher’s lounge. This sale rivals Black Friday in hype – though not in quality. Staff members are encouraged to donate items they no longer want or need, and they eagerly load their minivans with boxes and bags full of unneeded goods. Teachers sort the castoff merchandise onto tables, and new items arrive daily. The pricing is simple: everything is 25 cents. Money raised goes to the special education department, and kids can have a good time picking out a cheap gift.

Ask people to clear the clutter and crap from their houses, and they will jump at the chance – though not always with discretion. Holiday Store workers must exercise veto powers on what is or isn’t middle school appropriate. No to the Miller High-Life T-shirt. No to the boxer shorts. No to the flask-and-shot-glass gift set. No to the Green Bay Packer bikini top. No to the jock strap. And the nut cup is a hard no. 

Even the “appropriate” merchandise is hit-and-miss. A coffee maker that hopefully functions. Board games that a family no longer plays. Outgrown stuffed animals and Barbie dolls. Stretched-out sweaters that are no longer in style. It’s a great chance to rid your house of random wicker baskets, knick-knacks, and puzzles (hopefully with all the pieces). Each table is its own island of misfit toys, utensils, and appliances.

After his classmates made their purchases, he asked the teacher, “Is everything really a quarter?” “Yep, everything’s a quarter,” the teacher said … having answered the question hundreds of times that day.

But dig around, and you can find some gems such as the ventriloquist doll, the air horn, or the Minion fart gun.

One year, a student new to the school checked out the sale to see what the ruckus was about. He stood to the side while watching the excited shoppers rummaging through the merchandise.

After his classmates made their purchases, he asked the teacher, “Is everything really a quarter?”

“Yep, everything’s a quarter,” the teacher said … having answered the question hundreds of times that day.

“Is there a limit to how many things you can get?” the boy asked.

“No limit … you can buy as many things as you want.”

The student bought nothing, but the gears were turning.

The next day, the student showed up with a bag of quarters and a list. The student carefully picked out items, counted quarters, and checked people off his list. He eventually filled two trash bags and emptied his quarters onto the table. Then, like a plain-clothes Santa, the student hauled his oversized bags out of the Holiday Store, down the hall, and eventually home.

It turned out that home was not exactly a Hallmark movie. His family faced struggles with unemployment and housing, and gifts were unlikely. With a bag of quarters, maybe the student didn’t pull off a Christmas miracle, but he brightened up what may have been an empty holiday.

Some people have storage rooms, while others rent storage units. At times, the drop-off line at Goodwill stretches around the corner with those who’ve run out of room and need to cut the clutter from their lives.

But not everyone is sitting on a surplus.

Some stand with a Ziploc bag of quarters, happy and grateful to give.