A Delicate Balance

 Anthony came to Grandview at the beginning of this school year. New to the district, he quickly stuck out as a kid who had not been indoctrinated in the Grandview way. A small public school, Grandview prides itself on producing all-star athletes, students who achieve greatness academically, and students who abide by conservative rules with smiles on their faces.

But society is edging in on Grandview and we are getting more and more students who challenge the system. Anthony is one of them. But he only lasted a few weeks before his actions resulted in his being whisked away to a more rigid educational system known as DAEP - a system designed for troubled kids that have been kicked out of regular school.

Anthony came back in January. Admittedly, I sighed a huge inward sigh of annoyance and appropriately disguised a major eyeball when he walked through the door of my classroom. 

Anthony. Is. Challenging.

He does so many things that put me on the struggle bus. For starters, it takes him about ten minutes to find his seat. Literally. I don't even know what he finds to do but suffice it to say - lots of things. I work hard to keep the edge out of my voice when speaking to him: Hey Anthony - could you find your seat please?

"I'm working on it," he responds - moving at a snail's pace. 

Oftentimes, his pants hang far below his underwear. "Hey, Anthony," I admonish. "Pull those up. Gross. Nobody wants to see that." 

"They're just my shorts, Miss," he responds. 

Every. Single Time.

Anthony is easily and quickly distracted. By everything. If someone talks, he looks up and I can see the wheels turning as he figures out what his response should be. Because, of course, there will be a response. He can't help himself. Everything is his business. 

Getting Anthony to get moving on his work is a whole other saga. 

Suffice it to say, I take lots of deep breaths during fifth period. 

But today was extra special. 

When Anthony came in, he carried a blue bag of Doritos in his hand. Everyone started their assignment long before Anthony got his Chromebook and pulled up a chair beside a little table that is next to my desk.  Currently I have all of the desks arranged in a semi-circle along three walls, as we are reading a play and it allows everyone to see who is speaking. So I was hanging out with my students along the wall at the back of the room while Anthony hung out by my desk at the front of the room where he could see everyone and everyone could see him. And then he proceeded to eat his chips.

One by one.

Slowly. Very very slowly.

His Chromebook sat on the table, unopened.

Finally, I said, "Hey Anthony. Let's get started." 

"I'm hungry and I didn't eat lunch."

By now I was irritated and my patience was running thin.  "Not my problem, Anthony. Let's go," I quipped.

But he didn't. He continued to eat his chips.

One of my students said, "Anthony, could you please stop crumpling the bag? I'm trying to think."

Naturally, Anthony purposefully crumpled the bag. Again.

So at this point? I was over it. I envisioned the next steps I was going to take and, as Anthony doesn't do well with confrontation, I played out my strategy in my head,  well-aware that I could end up escorting him to the  principal.

So just as I was about ready to "go ham" on Anthony, he began to sign into his Chromebook. 

I sighed an inward sigh of relief.

But then he asked me for the password for the quiz he needed to take - the very same password I'd repeated about 2,785 times already. 

And, in the words of my kids, I lost my shit. 

My classroom was dead quiet. I could feel everyone's eyes focused on me. And so, I just took a breath and stopped.

To Anthony's credit, he handled it with grace. He logged into the quiz and finished it quickly. And then he closed the Chromebook, returned it to its cart, and sat back down in the chair. By this point, I'd returned to my desk to see everyone's scores. As I perused the scores on my computer, I quickly realized that Anthony scored higher than anyone else in the class. 

I looked up at him. "Smartypants," I said.

My fifth period class is ten minutes longer than my other classes, and so we often spend those extra minutes just hanging out and chatting. But today Anthony hung back. 

Normally in the midst of the fray, I said, "Hey, Anthony. What's up with you today? Why aren't you joining in?"

"Nobody likes me, Miss. Nobody cares."

"I care, Anthony," I said.

"You don't count. You're a teacher."

Anthony is a good looking kid - he has the best smile, an easy laugh, kind eyes. He's smart, cool. 

And at his center,  he's sensitive. Vulnerable. Fragile.

Tomorrow we will try again - Anthony and I. And when he shuffles in, takes forever to find his seat, I will smile, greet him kindly, treat him with compassion.

Because at the end of the day, that is what he will remember far more than whether or not he knows the difference between a dependent clause and an independent clause.

I am aware of the importance of education. I know that we need to set the bar high and believe that kids can reach it. But I also know that these kids are often in pain and that their struggles are real.

And so the delicate balance will continue: believing in them and cheering them on and loving them...

...and giving them grace when the days are hard.