The Hard Ones

When Nathan wasn’t sleeping, he instigated arguments and fights. The three amigos, as I called them, threw crayons, erasers, and broken pencils across the room behind my back. I had plans in place on how to motivate and keep the other two friends in line, but Nathan was a struggle. I tried praise, incentives, and free time. I offered bonus problems on tests and easy extra credit to help his grades. Nothing reached this kid.

His clothes were always stained, and his nose continuously ran. Caked-on snot was on his face every morning and his left-over breakfast on his shirt. He always held his books upside down or started flipping pages from the back. He talked about falling asleep when he got tired, even if it was in the middle of the living room.

After months of these small oddities, the teacher spotted a bruise in a weird place. Secretly, she called the hotline, hoping they could find the “something” she suspected but had no idea how to prove. This was the role of teacher after teacher through the entirety of Cynthia’s schooling. There was always a “reason” for the bruising that seemed well practiced and she had plenty of excuses for every little thing.

“They was drug dealers, Mrs. Adams. We done moved to a new place and the basketball court is right outside my window. They be doing drugs and being loud all night long. I can’t get no sleep.”

Alfy waltzed into my classroom the first week of school with the charm of a gameshow host. Cheesy smile, boisterous presence, and humorous personality. As the weeks went on, his charmful façade eroded to expose the deep root of anger that could erupt without warning. Defensive angry words. Hurtful cuss words directed at other students. And defiance toward all authority figures.

Are you looking at your students through glasses of love? Or glasses of frustration? Preconceived ideas? Or Weariness? How can you work on changing those glasses this week?