Thanksgiving Day was near. The first grade teacher gave her class a fun assignment－to draw a picture of something for which they were   (1)  .

Most of the class might be considered economically   (2)  ，but still many would celebrate the holiday with turkey and other traditional goodies of the season. These，the teacher thought，would be the   (3)  of most of her students’art. And they were.

But Douglas made a different kind of   (4)  .Douglas was a different kind of boy. He was the teacher’ s true child of misery，weak and   (5)  .As other children played at break，Douglas was likely to stand close by her side. One could only guess at the   (6)   Douglas felt behind those sad eyes.

Yes，his picture was   (7)  . When asked to draw a picture of something for which he was thankful，he drew a hand. Nothing else. Just an   (8)  hand. His abstract image   (9)   the imagination of his peers. Whose hand could it be? One child guessed it was the hand of a farmer，because farmers   (10)   turkeys. Another suggested a police officer，because the police protect and   (11)  people. Still others guessed it was the hand of God，for God feeds us. And so the   (12)  went－until the teacher almost forgot the young artist himself.

When the children had gone on to other assignments，she   (13)  at Douglas’desk，bent down，and asked him whose hand it was. The little boy looked away and   (14)  ，“It’s yours，Madam.” She   (15)   the times she had taken his hand and walked with him here or there，  (16)  she had the other students. How often had she said，“Take my hand，Douglas，we’ll go outside.” Or，“Let me show you how to   (17)  your pencil.” Or，“Let’s do this together.” Douglas was most thankful for his teacher’ s hand.

Brushing aside a tear，she went on with her work.

The story speaks of   (18)  thankfulness. It says something about teachers teaching and parents parenting and friends showing   (19)  ，and how much it means to the Douglases of the world. They might not always say thanks，but they’ll remember the hand that   (20)  .