May 12, 2009

The Kids That Keep You Up At Night

During my first year of teaching, I had a lot of challenging students. When you have an 18 year old driving to 9th grade and at least five kids who have probation officers, you know you're going to have some rough days. A quick scan of my class lists gave some of the veteran teachers chills. What a way to start off as a new teacher.

One of the students the veteran teachers warned me about was taking 9th grade English for the second time. As they started to tell their horror stories about Rob, I tried to block it out. I didn't want to have any preconceived ideas about my students. I wanted to give them all a fair chance at success without me walking in there with an expectation that they were going to be a nightmare for me.

It turns out that the student they warned me about became one of my favorite kids. He didn't turn everything in on time. He sometimes acted aloof in class, but there was something about him that I liked. He was no kiss-up and wasn't going to pretend that he appreciated Shakespeare to try to make me happy. He was as he appeared, and sometimes he was just not interested in being in class.

I was called to multiple conferences about this particular student during the year. I would listen as each teacher went around the room relaying horror stories about him and telling his Mom how he was going to fail, yet again. When they got to me, the room got very quiet. I had no problems with him. Although he was a straight C student at this point, he caused me no trouble at all. I just would have liked him to put a little more effort into his assignments. Behavior wise, I had no issues with him. It seemed that everyone else did.

About mid-year, we did a poetry assignment and what he turned in was not a typical poem. It was a rap that he had poured his heart and soul into. I couldn't have been more thrilled. He didn't try to duplicate a "roses are red" poem or plagiarize one off the Internet like many of my students did. What he turned in was authentic. It was also a bit raw and used some serious slang, but I liked it. I happen to like and appreciate rap. It was a turning point for him in the class.

Soon, he was writing journal entries about how he wanted to become a rapper. He was bringing in new songs for me to look over on a regular basis. Then, he brought me a demo tape that I still have somewhere. I thought it was awesome. I told him that what he was writing was poetry. I used his own work to show him examples of rhyming, alliteration, and the poetry patterns he was creating throughout his work. Suddenly, he had a new appreciation for English class.

His teachers continued to talk in conferences how he was disrespectful and inattentive; and then I would gushabout how talented he was and how once he saw the relevancy to his own interests, he became invested in English class and in his work. The other teachers just stared at me in disbelief. I was the only one who could see the good in this kid. I thought it was a real shame, and I think a lot of it was because many of those teachers walked into that classroom on the first day, knowing how he had been the year before, and assumed he was going to be the same disrespectful punk. I expected better from him, and he rose to the occasion.

This semester, I had a "Rob." He came from a rough background, lost his dad and two of his friends to drugs and suicide in the very near past, and although he was rough around the edges, I really liked him and saw a lot of potential in him. When I met with him mid-semester and told him he had a D and too many absences, he asked me if he should withdraw from the class.

I told him he needed to attend regularly and work harder! I spent so much time that day pointing out all the good in his work and telling him that I just needed to see more of it on time. He attended every class for a while and then he dropped off again. I was so disappointed. This weekend, as I sat grading final portfolios, it came time to grade his. He was missing his final paper, and two other major assignments that he had the entire semester to complete. Had he completed even one of the three assignments with any care, he would have been able to pass the class with a D-. Instead he failed.

I don't know whether or not he'll be back next semester. It's the kids like this that keep me up at night. What will he do if he's not in school? Will he follow the route his friends took and get involved with drugs again? Will he be able to straighten himself out and find the motivation to succeed? I found a way to get to my 9th grader many years ago, but as a teacher, you can't reach them all. This is one that slipped through the cracks; and I'm as disappointed in myself as I am in him.