Someone once said, "Children learn what they live." I couldn't agree more with this statement. My decision 5 years ago to move to my current school put me on course to not only teach, but to save lives in the process. Did you know that the calculations used by the state and federal governments for the number of beds needed when building prisons is actually a very simple one? As simple as looking at 3rd grade reading scores. How tragic is that? Our kids are already being "set up" for a life of failure based on their ability to read. You'd better believe that that makes my job one of the most important in the country.
Each year at my new site, I have had the 'privilege' of interceding in the life of a student that might not otherwise learn to read by 3rd grade. My first year there was the toughest by far, for it brought me "Charlie". I had seen children broken by poverty, abuse (physical, sexual, emotional), drugs, loss of parents, etc. But "Charlie"... "Charlie had been broken by all of the above--and then some. He came to me a shell. Having just lost his mom to suicide and being in state custody with a restraining order against his "step-father". His uncle (a friend of my brother's) came to me with his story, asking me if I would take him on. After shedding a few tears, I agreed, knowing that this would be my toughest year ever. Boy was it ever a challenge. Every time I wanted to give up, and send him to the office, or another class for a break, I remembered where he came from--what he's seen. The office was just another retreat deeper inside himself, so I held him. He didn't feel worthy of hugs or praise, so he always resisted, but I had his uncle's permission to do what I felt necessary to keep him under control. I told him that I cared about him and I was going to hold him anyway. The rest of the class got used to him, and in fact, they became involved in fostering his healing. One day, after one of "Charlie's" first rages, I sent him to another class on a "time out". This was more for me, than for him. I used the time to brief the rest of my class.
"Ok boys & girls, I want to hear what you all think about "Charlie" and his behavior." Boy, the little hands started shooting up. Most thought he was naughty and should go to the principal, some thought he should not get recess, and surprisingly, a few felt sorry for him. I told them what I expected of them and that just because "Charlie" wasn't going to the principal, didn't mean that they wouldn't if they attempted what he had. One student said, "but that's not fair". I responded with my, now 'standard', "what is fair and not fair" lecture. "Life just is not fair. If it were, we would all live in houses big enough for our families, all our parents would have cars, we would all have new school clothes, both our parents would live with us, we would all be able to eat 3 meals a day...", yadda, yadda, yadda. They all sensed "Charlie" was different, so I didn't need to give further details, just that he is a member of our class and therefore, our school family. We would teach "Charlie" how he should behave by modeling and showing compassion.
At the end of the year, I meticulously hand-picked his 1st grade teacher. I wrote nothing in his records to prejudice other teachers' opinions of him. I spoke face to face with that teacher, to the point of tears, and gently handed his little life over to her. She kept me informed of his trials and tribulations and together we chose his second grade teacher. Our school Art teacher came to me in tears one day (she is also my neighbor) when she found out who "Charlie's" 3rd grade teacher was. She asked if there was anything I could do to remove him from her class--she used to teach band and had a reputation for being harsh on children. I proceeded to tell the (art teacher) that I thought "Charlie" would be fine with her, but to get her to stop crying, I promised to speak to her. I was glad I did, cause his 2nd grade teacher failed to inform her of his background. Well, that 3rd grade teacher was glad I told her about "Charlie" (her own grand-daughter was the victim of sexual abuse and she knew a lot of psychology to bring to the table). We agreed that while he needed 'special' attention, he also needed firmness, because he was going to middle school in a couple of years and would need a lot of discipline. "Charlie" discovered music that year :)
Today, "Charlie" is a 5th grader. He still comes over to say "Hi", borrow a football, share a story, and even gives me a little hug now and then. I love my job...
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