Today I interviewed a real odd-ball and complete sweetheart of a kid. He's a student who receives special education services. He talked of many things often using animal metaphors to describe himself. "Waking up is hard for me sometimes. I sleep like a bear... I'm a real class clown— very hyper—I'm basically a monkey."
" When I asked him how he spends his free time, he told me about his pet lizard which he described as "some kind of dragon, I think. I forget."
"A bearded dragon?" I asked.
"Yeah, I think that's it."
Then he told me, "He tastes my blood and other people's blood. That's how he knows when it's me and when it's someone else— But once he tastes their blood, he warms up to them."
I thought about it for a moment, slightly confused and asked half-joking, "Wait. So does he like go around biting people to figure out who they are?"
"No, no. It's not like that. I just make a little prick on my finger and he tastes the blood."
"Oh, okay," I said, pretending that was a completely normal thing for lizards and humans to do.
When I asked questions about his old school, I found myself on a journey from as early as elementary school. He told me, "You know, you're a girl and I'm talking to you now, but I used to be really afraid of girls because I was bullied and picked on by them." When I asked more about the bullying, he told me that people call him names at school but he doesn't mind so much because other kids stand up for him. I was reminded of this heartwarming news story about Danny, the water boy, and his football team.
At the end of the interview process, we came together as a staff to reflect on the day. People talked about how incredible it feels to get to know the kids so quickly and hear their stories. We talked a lot about knowing when we're talking to a kid who just really needs to be in our school. I thought about a student I interviewed two years ago. He was a student who received special education services, had scored a 92 on the ELA Regents and was diagnosed as ADHD. When I spoke with the student he discussed social dynamics at his current school, lots of fights where he always tried to be the mediator but was constantly accused of being the instigator. I saw a kid who had a lot of growing to do. He had yet to learn how to accept responsibility. I saw a kid with a wall up, displaying an air of confidence that seemed too extreme to be real. And I didn't know if we could really help him, but we accepted him. He ended up in my advisory and for two years, I struggled to tap into this kid's' emotions, searching for a shred of empathy and beginning to lose hope of ever finding it.
In our second year together I found myself in multiple meetings with this student after he displayed some rude and unprofessional behaviors and showed no remorse, took no responsibility and simply blamed everyone, but himself for things "not working out." One of his internship coordinators remarked, "I'm really concerned, Jamie. He has shown absolutely no growth in his year at this school." His guidance counselor, who always raved about him, finally began to see it too. "I can't even listen to him anymore. He's so full of himself and thinks he knows everything." How were we going to show this kid just how naive he is?
Midway through the school year, I showed a Teaching Tolerance video called Bullied, which created a lively discussion and had clearly upset this student, in particular, in a way I didn't expect. He talked about his own experiences being bullied, he talked about how no one ever did anything to stop it, how no matter who he told or how he tried to fight it, nothing worked. He spoke only with anger. He didn't understand how this one short video, featuring one gay student in Minnesota in the '90s who was beat up, sexually assaulted by classmates, and even urinated on, was helping anyone.
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| Handout included with Teaching Tolerance's Bullied |
In April, I took a group of 43 students into the woods for a 3-day overnight trip in Upstate New York. When this student asked if he could come, I hesitated. Did I really want him on this trip? This kid who was known to gossip and spread rumors? Would he ruin the community we had to work so hard to create to make this trip successful, to allow kids to be vulnerable, reveal some deep, dark truths, and really trust one another? And so I told him my concerns and what behaviors he had displayed in school (multiple students had come to me saying that he had been gossiping and spreading rumors about them) influenced the existence of those concerns. He nodded, said he understood, and we reached an agreement. And on that trip, I saw a side of him I had never seen before. There was genuine kindness in there.
Our last morning on the trip, the coffee station in the mess hall was closed down because students left it a wreck the previous night. The group was in uproar. "It wasn't me," they all claimed. "Why am I being punished for something I didn't do?" As much as we tried to explain, "We are a group, the actions of the few affect the whole group," we couldn't escape the whining and complaining. The real surprise came when my advisee approached me. He made a comment about the immaturity of the group and how rude they had been to the staff. I said, "Would you like to thank the staff here for working with us?" He immediately turned to a few of the staff and told them, "Thank you so much for all you've done for us. I apologize for my fellow students and take full responsibility for their actions."
The staff members laughed, "Are you sure you want to take FULL responsibility?"
As we left the cafeteria to board our bus home, he turned to me and said, "You didn't think I could do this."
"You're right. I didn't. And you proved me wrong. You were great on this trip, very mature. I'm proud of you."
He snickered and climbed on the bus.
Months later, as we wrapped up the end of the school year, this same student procrastinated his work, argued with me, took little to no responsibility for how behind he was, and just drove me insane. As he scrambled around to find proof of gym credits he had earned outside of school, I just shook my head. When he finally scrounged up all his credits he told me, "I will never procrastinate again." Yeah, right, I thought. "Yeah, right," his guidance link said when I told her what he said.
Then he presented his graduation portfolio. Of course, it was at the last minute, still revising and begging for signatures, but when he sat on that panel something changed. He began by speaking about his personal history, his journey to our school and his experiences. He had spoken for no more than a minute when he burst into tears as he said, "No one in my old schools ever gave me a chance. Everyone just assumed I was a bad kid and thought they knew me. Here, people cared. They supported me and never made me feel bad about who I am. They just pushed me to be better." And then the tears came to my eyes. Holy shit, I thought. He's grown. He's finally grown.
Or maybe he just finally revealed what he was hiding inside all along.
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