Fall 2011--School Days
A kid I'll call "Andrew" shrugged into my 7th hr. English class this year--someone new to me. He'd been at a neighboring school for the past couple of years and this year came to us. Tall, dark hair, one heck of a scar on his face. His eyes were vacant; his clothes disheveled, hanging about him as one might expect when the body grows tall rapidly.
A random seating chart placed him fourth row back from the front. He didn't talk much and sort of slouched down trying to hide. Though his performance wasn't terrible and his attendance was quite good, he teetered on the brink of failing. He was easily distracted, but didn't overtly misbehave. It was obvious no work was getting done outside of the classroom, but I knew he was pretty smart
Toward the middle of October I began bringing my green plants into my room to "winter over." My large east-facing windows are perfect for that, and there's something...well...pleasant about green plants in the classroom. Makes it more comfortable. Better learning environment.
One day I noticed Andrew looking at the spider plant, fingering its arching baby "spiders." He asked me what type of plant it was and after explaining it was simply called a spider plant, I asked him on a whim if he'd like one. I had another "young" one at home. I'd make him a deal, I told him...I'd water the plant and he'd have to talk to it to encourage and nurture it. The hint a smile was the first I'd seen cross Andrew's face.
So a few days later I brought in the plant and told Andrew, "That plant over there? That one's yours. I think you need to name it; but sure to talk to it now and then; I'll water it with the others." That same week I asked Andrew if he'd introduced himself to the plant, if he'd talked to it yet. And darned if later that day he wasn't over at the window chatting up the plant. He told me he was going to name it "Curly," and that's when I saw Andrew's face soften, his eyes relax and a smile emerge. He was playing this game along with me.
Following Andrew's absences the next week, I told Andrew Curly was pissed he hadn't been in class. "You'd better explain yourself," I told him, and later he was again at the windows, chatting briefly. Yesterday I ran a grade sheet for Andrew that showed he was nearly passing--just a percentage or two below 60%. Then I remembered he's turned in a book review and it was one of those I'd graded. I quickly entered that grade and...suddenly the percentage jumped above 60. He wasn't doing great, but he WAS passing. I could tell he was pleased; he took the new grade sheet over to the window, held it up to Curly and said, "Hey Curly, I'm passing!" And then I heard him tell others kids in the room the same thing. He was proud and so was I.
But still...the project we've been working on for over month that requires he interview an older person hadn't been started. "Take your Grandmother out for coffee," I told him. "Ask her a few questions; jot down the answers, and get some old photos to upload for our project."
He's on the edge, on the brink of passing first quarter. I told him he was too smart to fail my class and I wasn't going to let him. "I'm dragging you over the finish line," I said. Hope he talks to his grandma this weekend. If not, he's got some explaining to do--to Curly and me.