The easiest transition from Tom is to his best friend, whom we will call Danny. (If you have ever had a conversation with me about my students you know how ridiculous my name choices are...none of my students, I repeat NONE of them ever had a name as easy (or fun) as Danny to say).
Danny was in the same classes as Tom, minus my homeroom. Each day he reported to my math and language arts classes and then in seventh grade he came again for science and social studies. With a big heart and sweet demeanor, Danny was very different from a lot of students around him. He was quiet but grew confident as he found the patterns in my tests or learned the two continents making Eurasia.
Covering his mouth as he talked, Danny was embarrassed about his chip in his front tooth, his small body frame, or his general shyness. The truth of the matter is that Danny was smart. He struggled in reading like a lot of my students but was so determined as a student. He worked and worked and worked, and when he didn't get something right, he hid his whole face in his hands and slowly lowered them off, looking at me like he hoped he could crawl away and come back in the spring.
I didn't let Danny hide. I gave him work, hard work at that. He mastered math and algebra like it was single digit addition and LOVED, again I repeat, LOVED social studies. He saw the patterns of life and conflict so deeply.
Everyday Danny made me laugh. When he asked to get a drink of water and I said no (mostly because he didn't really need water -- he just wanted to avoid a potential awkward situation) he would say, "how about a taste", again I shook my head, to that he'd say "just a little sip", as I laughed, he'd say "I just want to know the flavor". Eventually I'd be taking my whole class on a water break to fulfill Danny's need.
Also, when Danny couldn't see the board, he'd make circles out of his hands and put them up to his face like glasses. He'd also do this when he was tired. Imagine, teaching (blood, sweat and tears teaching, like I'd been taught) and looking out and seeing this small child with his hands over his eyes. It made me break into laughter every time.
On his last day of seventh grade, Danny was one of the only students in his class to come to school. He helped me carry box after box into my car. He became the first student I told I would not be returning to BSCA in the fall. Danny and I had many previous conversations about serious things. He told me when he missed his Dad, or when he was being driven crazy by other teachers. I knew I could trust him to get honest feedback about my lack of returning. He looked up at me, and without blinking, and like many times before, Danny broke my heart in a way few students could when he asked, "But who will teach me next year?”
on a side note, thanks to my first official follower, Katy :-)
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