Daniel Stone’s senior year should have ended the way he had been planning for so long: with prom and graduation and parties with his friends.

Instead, he has spent the last seven weeks at Cardinal Glennon Children’s Hospital in St. Louis undergoing ECT, commonly know as shock therapy, in an attempt to treat an onset of delirium. Doctors think it may be related to CHARGE syndrome, a rare disorder Daniel was born with that causes physical abnormalities and developmental delays.

At 18 years old, Daniel is at a second- to third-grade level academically. But as an outgoing special needs student, Daniel has been involved in many clubs and activities at Triad High School in Troy, Illinois. The day of his graduation, he put on his cap and gown, walked around the hospital and watched an online broadcast of the ceremony with his family.

His parents, Kurt and Linda Stone, wrote a letter to the senior class, which Kurt read to them during the rehearsal a day before the graduation. Kurt broke down in tears several times during the address. He wanted the class of about 250 students to know what they had given his son and their family. The following is part of what he said.

“In late 2003, when Daniel was 5 years old, our family was at a crossroads and Linda and I made the decision to relocate our family to Troy from Indiana. The move was for our entire family, but primarily for Daniel. We wanted Daniel to benefit by being in one school district for three reasons: a special education program with case management for all his school years, continuity with teachers through the grade levels, and consistency of friendships from year to year.

“You have done it! You are Daniel’s friends. From January 2004 to May 2017, you, the Class of 2017, have provided the consistency of friendship we hoped and prayed for Daniel.

“Every parent’s desire, especially parents of a student with special needs, is for our child not only to be cared for, but to be loved for who they are.

“You have loved our Daniel! So we thank you for the many ways you have demonstrated your love for Daniel. You loved Daniel when you:

... tied his shoes.

... sat at the table with him in the cafeteria, so no one eats alone.

... nicknamed him ‘Big D!’

... rode bikes with him on his birthday.

... laughed with him when he makes silly animal sounds.

... asked him how he was doing, and you stopped to really listen to his response.

... volunteered to be his partner in P.E.

... were his seatmate on the school bus.

... traveled with him to watch and cheer for the University of Evansville Purple Aces basketball team.

... planned and hosted after-school holiday parties for the the Life Skills students.

... helped him with an art project.

... included him in your group on the football student fan bus to away/playoff games.

... played, and sometimes won, doubles tennis matches.

... gave him a ride home after basketball practice and games.

... bought a delicious fresh-baked cookie for a fundraiser.

... gifted him a can of Crush soda on Valentine’s Day from the band.

... toured Washington, D.C. during the eighth-grade trip to the nation’s capital.

... noshed with him in New York City on the band trip.

... petted the bum of a koala bear with him in Australia during the summer trip.

... invited him to your house to watch University of North Carolina Tar Heels basketball.

... made sure he had a date, or was his date, to homecoming or prom.

... cheered for every three-point basketball shot he launched, and taught him to show the ‘3-baller’ sign for every one he made.

... gave up a basketball shot of your own, to pass the ball to Daniel so he could shoot it.

... signed one of the four giant ‘Get Well Soon’ poster cards delivered to him at the hospital.

... counted measures and measures of beats in the musical score so you could cue Daniel at the very moment he needed to play the suspended cymbal or strike the triangle during a band concert.

“This is just the beginning of the list, and you know it, of the ways you have not only cared for Daniel, but loved him. And for all of that and your genuine friendship with him, we and the entire Stone family are profoundly grateful.

“There’s a spiritual song titled, ‘When It’s All Been Said and Done’ -- listen to it sometime during your personal quiet time -- with these lyrical lines:

‘When it’s all been said and done

All my treasures will mean nothing

Only what I’ve done for love’s reward

Will stand the test of time.’

“What you’ve done is love a friend,” said Kurt. “It will stand for eternity.”

Parents serve many roles for their children: nurturer, teacher, mentor -- and inevitably, a child’s first ATM.

Most parents give their tweens and teens money in some way: cash as needed, an allowance or maybe access to a credit card. But simply dispensing funds is a less-than-ideal way to teach personal financial responsibility.

And American kids need some help in that department. One in 5 U.S. teenage students lack basic financial literacy skills, according to results released last week by the Program for International Student Assessment (PISA). Among the 15 participating countries, the U.S. ranked 7th in how well 15-year-olds understood essential financial concepts and risks.

The scores remained unchanged since 2012, the first time PISA tested financial literacy. Only 1 in 10 American students achieved the highest proficiency level, meaning they are able to make the kinds of financial decisions relevant to them in the future. Chinese students ranked first overall.

With the average college graduate facing more than $35,000 in student loan debt, an array of credit card options, complicated cellphone plans and an ever-changing housing market, teens need solid financial planning skills before they launch into adulthood.

There was a key indicator that correlated with better performance on the PISA test: 53 percent of the participants said they have a bank account. Students with a bank account scored 42 points higher on the financial literacy exam than students who did not have one.

“Parents are the number-one influence on their children when it comes to money,” said Billy Hensley, senior director of education for the National Endowment for Financial Education. Besides setting up an account that a child can access and manage, there are other important money-management tips for parents to teach children before they head off to college:

1. Explain how college debt and interest work. Give examples of what monthly loan repayments could look like and how many years it would take. If a high schooler is deciding between college options with significantly different debt loads, explain to them the salary range required after graduation for them to comfortably make the loan payments.

2. Show them the dangers of credit card spending using real-life examples. Calculate how much they would pay in interest if they only paid a minimum monthly amount and carried a balance, and what the long-term consequences of bad credit can be.

3. Share your own financial mistakes. Be honest about your own financial setbacks and the better choices you wish you had made.

4. Make a plan. Anthony ONeal, co-author of “The Graduate Survival Guide: 5 Mistakes You Can’t Afford to Make in College,” says students need to have two written plans before heading off to college: a plan for their life and a plan for their money. Begin by setting personal goals for the semester and making sure those align with their budget. He advises revisiting and revising each plan at the start of each semester.

5. Create an emergency fund. ONeal also suggests college students save and keep a $500 emergency fund. (Not for late-night pizza “emergencies,” but the broken-down-car type of emergency.)

Some companies, recognizing that cash usage is declining and that teens need to learn digital money management, are jumping into this niche. Financial services tech firm Current recently launched the Current Student Account, a preloaded Visa debit card connected to a parent’s account with tight parental control and supervision.

The card, which comes with an iOS or Android app, allows parents to denote how money will be earned through various chores, and to transfer allowance as it is earned. Teens can divide their funds into three digital wallets: spending, saving and giving, which helps teens identify local charities to which they can donate. Parents and teens are able to track purchases as they are made.

The company charges a $3 monthly service fee, which is higher than what a bank typically charges for a preloaded spending card. But it’s appealing how this digitized allowance can be tied to chores and responsibilities in a tech-friendly way.

The goal is to encourage good financial management, saving and charitable giving habits among teens.

These may be among the most valuable lessons parents can give.

My mother told my brother the same bedtime story for years. It was a tale of heroes and miracles and second chances. It involved a dramatic rescue. And like the best stories told to children, my baby brother -- nearly 16 years younger than me -- had the starring role.

Even though my brother Usman had been born full-term, he stopped breathing within hours of his birth when his vocal cords collapsed. A Life Flight helicopter flew him from a suburban hospital to the major medical center in Houston.

Doctors performed a tracheostomy, inserting a tube that allowed air to pass directly into his lungs. They also cut a long, vertical incision across his belly to insert a feeding tube directly into his stomach. Mom began telling him this story when he was so young that he never questioned his scars growing up.

Clearly, the doctors were the heroes in this retelling of events.

Or were they?

While they performed life-saving operations on my newborn brother, they also delivered crushing news. The head surgeon talked to my mom when Usman was in recovery. She explained that they had run several tests, and that Usman would never eat, talk or breathe on his own. My mother stared at her, unable to accept what she had heard.

“What chance does he have of having a normal life?” she asked.

The surgeon delivered a blow. “In medical terms, we shouldn’t say there’s a zero percent chance,” she said, “but in my opinion, there’s no chance.” She advised my mother to learn sign language so she would be able to communicate with her son as he grew up.

For a month, my mom stayed in the hospital with my brother as he recovered, and she asked every doctor and nurse who came by what she could do to heal her child. She also prayed incessantly. One doctor gave her some advice, completely off the record. She said not to tell anyone what she was sharing with her. She suggested covering his trach for just a second at a time, multiple times during the day. Maybe, over time, it would help strengthen his vocal cords and epiglottis.

That was all my mother needed to hear. Even though Usman came home with machines and tubes to keep him alive, she worked with him every day using this unconventional therapy based on a brief conversation.

Four months later, she took him to the ear, nose and throat specialist for a follow-up. She insisted he could breathe on his own, and asked the doctor to remove the trach from Usman’s neck. The doctor was willing to try. They put Usman under anesthesia and removed the plastic tube from his windpipe.

Usman started gasping and choking and turning blue shortly after, and they immediately reinserted it.

The attempt to remove it was a failure.

My mother was devastated, but undeterred. She kept doing her exercises with him, praying that she would one day hear her son’s voice. Three months later, she was back in the ENT’s office, pleading for another chance. Her baby could breathe on his own, she said. The doctor was hesitant and reminded her of the failed procedure a few months earlier.

There’s a stubborn, persistent streak in my family, and, God bless him, the doctor relented to my mom’s will.

Usman, 8 months old at the time, went into surgery dependent on a suction device and humidifier to keep his airways clear.

He woke up breathing on his own.

He told me recently that he wonders what went through our mom’s mind when she took it upon herself to keep trying to fix something doctors had told her was unfixable. In her version of the story she told him all those years, she is never the hero.

“You were going to die,” she would tell him, as early as kindergarten. “The doctors saved you.”

And faith. And prayers. And a mother’s love.

My mom would tell him that he was going to pay that forward one day.

Last week, we watched Usman walk across the stage at Kent State University and become a doctor himself. He will start his residency in July.

“It was more than just me graduating,” he said. “It was all of us. There were definitely some miracles that got me here.”

Twenty-seven years later, an old story has a new beginning.