Finding a Balance

I am not teaching to save children. They would be the first to tell you that. Rather, my "mission" (as it were) is to educate them...and hopefully make a difference along the way.

Institute has ended, and summer school has come to a close. I wish I could say I was 100% successful in my mission, but I can't. There is one student in particular, we'll refer to him here by the name of Sean, whom I recommended to be retained in the 5th grade. The worst part is, it is not entirely his fault. He made choices this summer that resulted in my recommendation: for instance, he did not follow directions, he refused to keep his head off the desk, and some days he was flat out defiant. However, when he walked in at the beginning of the summer, he knew that he could not recognize some letters of the alphabet, let alone read. He knew that the other kids were aware of his "special needs." He knew that he might get lost in the shuffle and stress of summer school. And I didn't do anything to prove him wrong.

Sure, I made flash cards for the letters of the alphabet and the consonant sounds he did not know--he just didn't show up when we were supposed to go over them, and I was not allowed to keep him after school for extra support. Unfortunately, that is where most of my effort stopped. I should have remediated worksheets for him. I should have made it clear that I want what is best for him, and to make efforts to ensure he was not humiliated by my extra attention. I could list a thousand things I should have done, but the point is: I didn't. Sean may have failed summer school, but in large part, it is because I failed him. I was not the teacher he needed me to be.

Whenever I think of Sean, I remind myself that I must find a balance...There were as many wonderful moments this summer as there were frustrating moments. Mainly, I think of Rodney--whose name has been changed here, just like Sean's, for protection. Rodney came into summer school at a third grade reading level. As one of our low readers, he was assigned to my small group for reading and literacy. (We had small groups for math/literacy every morning for an hour.) The first time our small group met, he asked, "Ms. Block, did you go to college?" I said I had. He looked at me with solemn seriousness. "Do you think I can go to college someday?" he asked. "Of course," I said. "Rodney, you can do anything you want as long as you work hard and put your mind to it." He smiled, and said his goal for the summer was to read chapter books.

I took the cue and found a chapter book for him to read throughout summer school. Since his difficulty with reading was mainly with comprehension, I also made him a reading journal so that he could write down the main idea of each chapter in the book. Rodney religiously came before school to work on his math or reading. When I tested his reading the last week of summer school, I could barely believe what he had scored. Rodney is now reading at the late fifth grade level. He grew approximately two years in reading this summer, mainly in comprehension.

When I talked to him the last day of summer school to tell him he passed to the 6th grade, he jumped up and hugged me. "Thank you, Ms. Block. Thank you so much." I told him that he did not need to thank me. After all, it was his hard work that had made this possible. "Yeah, but Ms. Block, you showed me that I could do it. You made me pay attention, and you taught me how to read better. That's why I'm thanking you." At the end of the day, we had an open house for parents to see the work their children had accomplished this summer. Both of Rodney's parents came to the event. The first thing on the agenda was for the students to share their goals with the class and parents. Rodney was the first student to go. "My goal is to go to college, just like Ms. Block did," he said. "And now I know that I won't just go to college because I am a good football player. I'm going to go because I'm smart. And I'm going to get there by working hard and paying attention in class."

When he looked at me in the back of the room and smiled, I fought back tears. For every failure, there is at least one success. This summer Sean and Rodney reminded me of that. As I embark on my two-year journey of teaching, I will never forget them or the other ten students in Room 315. Through the best and worst of times this summer, all of them reminded me that we must all find a balance.

I already miss them all...