I stumbled across this old Reader's Digest and came upon this beautiful and very inspiring story about a young black kid.. just read and be the judge:

Birthday Present
Condensed from "Christian Herald" (Feb. ’69)Mavis Burton Ferguson
A week after my son started first grade, he came home with the news that Roger, the only Negro in the class, was his playground partner. I swallowed and said, “That’s nice. How long before someone else gets him for a partner?” “Oh, I’ve got him for good,” replied Bill. In another week, I had the news that Bill had asked if Roger could be his desk partner.
Unless you were born and reared in one of the white-supremacy states as I was, you cannot know what this means. I went for an appointment with the teacher.
She met me with tired, cynical eyes. “Well, I supposed you want a new desk partner for your child, too,” she asked. “Can you wait for a few minutes? I have another mother coming in right now.”
I looked up to see a woman my age. My heart raced as I realized she must be Roger’s mother. She had a quiet dignity and much poise, but neither could cover the anxiety I heard in her questions. “How’s Roger doing? I hope he is keeping up with the other children? If he isn’t, just let me know.”
She hesitated as she made herself ask, “Is he giving any trouble of any kind? I mean, what’s with his having to change desks so much?”
I could feel the terrible tension in her, for she knew the answer. But I was proud of that first-grade teacher for her gentle answer: “No, Roger is not giving me any trouble. I try to move all the children around the first few week until each has just the right partner.”
I introduced myself and said that my son was to be Roger’s new partner and I hoped they would like each other. Even then I knew it was only a surface wish, not a deep-felt one. But it helped her, I could see.
Twice Roger invited Bill to come home with him, but I found excuses. Then came the heartache that I will always suffer.
On my birthday, Bill came home from school with a grimy piece of paper folded into a very small square. Unfolding it, I found three flowers and “Happy Birthday” crayoned on the paper – and a nickel.
“That’s from Roger, said Bill. “It’s his milk money. When I said today was your birthday, he made me bring it to you. He said you are his friend, ‘cause you’re the only mother that didn’t make him get another desk partner.”
Reader’s DigestAugust 1971