Today’s story is about a boy.
A quiet, plump, shy boy who always sat in the corner of the
room and hardly ever spoke a word. He did his work (not well but he tried), and
never caused any trouble. In a room full of loud, boisterous 7th
graders, he was easy to overlook. It was easy not to notice that he was gone for a few days.
Or that he was even quieter than usual on his return.
It was hard not to notice that he turned in his final exam blank.
Just his name on it. I’d been ordered not to fail any students. I wasn’t going to
follow those orders. But I also didn’t want to just let this guy fail without
understanding what was going on. I had no classroom of my own, so we met in the
hallway.
“Is something going on?” I asked. “It’s not like you not to
try.”
He looked at the floor. Finally he said “It’s just been
really hard since my mom died. I miss her so much.”
Why the fuck didn’t anybody tell me this?
We’re not allowed to touch the students. I wish I could give
him a hug. He’s crying.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It was two weeks ago. That’s why I missed those days.”
“You know, my father died when I was your age,” I told him.
He looked up.
So we talked for about half an hour. His mother had been
disabled, in a wheelchair. He loved his dad but it was his mother he could talk
to. His whole world was just shattered. I couldn’t do much except let him know
that I understood by sharing my own loss and listening to his.
Eventually I said “If you’d like to take the test again, I
could set that up for you.”
“Yes, please,” he told me.
So he retested. It didn’t matter what his score was really.
I wasn’t going to fail him because he had the courage to try. Then the semester
was over and he moved on to other classes. After Christmas, I got a call from the office that a parent
wanted to speak to me. At that school, it usually wasn’t a good thing when a parent
wanted to talk to you. Sometimes they just cussed you out. Sometimes they threw
punches.
At the office was a small, sturdy Hispanic man holding his
hat.
“I just want to thank you. You were so kind to my son. He
told me all about it. He told me none of the other teachers noticed or cared.
It meant so much to him.”
Literally, I had done the absolute minimum that any decent
human being would do. At that school, parental deportations, arrests, and deaths
were not all that uncommon. I guess people just get numb after awhile. But it was sweet of him to thank me. I’ll never forget his
gentle sad face or the effort he made to seek me out.
