To know them is to love them:
Understanding your students
One
by one, the young students file into my classroom excitedly, chatting with one another. A couple of giggling girls rush in, at the last moment. They head
for the front of the room and fight over the first seat. The heavier of the two
wins out and the other girl sits down behind her.
"As
slivers of dawn burst forth on the horizon,
I stand in the cool, wet sand."
I stand in the cool, wet sand."
"Class,
my name is on the blackboard. I have written a couple of lines of poetry on
there. I would like each one of you to come up, add another line to that poem
and put your first name beside it, so I know who you are. On the way back to
your seats, pick up the course outline from my desk."
I only
know one student in the entire class. Freddie is a skinny young man, with a
brush cut. He lives with his mom, just down the street. He looks at me as if to
say, "Please, don't center me out."
I
smile and nod at him. I should be counting fifteen students, but I can only
count fourteen. Someone is missing.
"By
the way, this is Creative Writing 101, just in case you are not in the right
class."
Beth: "With one foot sinking."
A
tall, slender girl adds another line to the poem. She looks like a New York fashion model,
complete with huge, dark sunglasses and a silk shawl wrapped over her skimpy
top. She puts her name beside her line of poetry and returns to her seat. I
love her matching purse and sandals, but I am not happy about the way that she
jangles her car keys.
Bob:
"Help! I cry aloud, but no one hears."
That
tall, well dressed, young man, with a slick Mohawk haircut, does not look like
he needs help, but maybe he does. I am not certain that I like his tattoos or
the huge ring in his nose. He has a black Zorrow mask, in his left, shirt
pocket.
The
back door opens quietly and a heavy girl with bright red and green streaks in
her hair tries to sneak in, unnoticed. She takes a seat at the back of the
room. The girl beside her whispers to her and she nods her head.
A
hush descends over the room, as someone's cell phone begins to play the first
couple of bars from a hit song. Someone laughs. I hear a young man talking
quietly, but I have no idea who has the cell phone.
Cindy: :"There is only silence."
Cindy
looks so stern that she could be a police officer, in spite of her red and
green streaks. I realize that what I might have said, she written on the
blackboard.
A
short, chubby boy waddles up to the front of the room, carrying his cell phone.
"I
am sorry," he says quietly. "My dad is a bush pilot and he has been
missing for three days. My mom says they just found his plane."
"I
am so sorry," I reply. "I hope that he is all right. Keep me posted.
Use the vibrations setting on your phone. If it vibrates, go out in the hall to
answer it, so it does not disturb the rest of the class. All right?"
He
nods his head and heads for the blackboard.
Randy: "I still believe in hope."
"I
do too," I decide, as I watch him writing on the board. He is scared. He
picks up the course outline and heads back to his desk.
Suddenly,
a loud crash comes from the far side of the room. A smartly dressed girl, in a
blue jean outfit, hastily re-packs her belongings into her backpack. She is
embarrassed by what the others have seen. I did not see what it was.
"The
only things that you need on your desk are a pen and piece of paper," I
state quietly and wait while everyone in the room clears their desks. "Put
everything else under your seats in your backpacks, please. Oh, and write this
poem down."
A
heavy set young man with huge, bulging pockets moves towards the blackboard. I
wonder what he has in his pockets. "Should I be concerned?" I wonder.
He could be carrying anything.
Tim: "I am a gentle soul."
Amazed,
I sense no cause for alarm. It is as if he has just read my mind and put me at
ease by what he has just written. He pulls a water bottle out of his pocket and
takes a sip. I breathe a sigh of relief.
Mindy: "A tiny hummingbird hovers overhead, momentarily."
I
look to see who just wrote that. It is a very beautiful girl, with lovely long
blonde hair, who is dressed in a well coordinated, burgundy outfit. I sense
that she is shy. I like what she wrote and she knows it.
I
sense a cry for help, from this young man, too. He may need to see an eye
specialist. He wears huge, thick glasses. He stumbles and almost falls, as he
returns to his seat.
"Sorry,"
he says to the young man beside him.
"You
ought to be!" he gets as a response, much to his dismay.
"I
said I am sorry!"
Gregg: "Deeper and deeper, all the time."
This
young man, badly in need of a haircut, wearing britches over his t-shirt and
torn jeans, looks dirty and unkempt. He has forgotten to tie his shoelaces. He
has some kind of cigars in his shirt pocket and literally reeks of something
rancid.
This
is carefully written by a tall, skinny girl with freckles and long pigtails.
She smiles at me. "Welcome to our high school!" she whispers to me,
as she bends over my desk to pick up a course outline. "I hope you enjoy
teaching here. Maybe you can come over for supper sometime?"
"Thank
you," I reply. "I appreciate the invitation and I may take you up on
it."
The
young man with the cell phone quietly leaves the room. He is receiving another
telephone call. I am hoping that this is going to be good news and wonder if I
should go out into the hallway to be with him. I decide to wait.
Leslie:
"Grab this rope and hold on tight!"
This
is the last thing that I expect to read from this girl, whose dark hair almost hides
her face. Her purse hangs open and I am concerned about what I see inside. She
quickly closes it and seems to be embarrassed, as well she should be.
Grant:
"I've got it."
This
young man is too heavy for his years. I decide that he will be going to see the
health nurse, on a regular basis. He is dripping with perspiration, but I
realize that it is still hot for September. He is over-dressed for this kind of
weather.
Young
Chi: "You should not have risked your life trying to rescue me."
This
petite, Oriental girl stands straight and tall. She is almost as straight as
her long black hair. "What a lovely girl!"
Freddie:
"Thank you. I was sinking fast."
The
young man from down the street pretends that he does not know me. That is all
right. I understand. I have decided not to single him out in front of everyone.
Tamara: "The light of dawn shimmers on the ripples, like flickering stars."
This
is the girl who did not get the front seat. I think I may just have found a
creative writer, perhaps the only one in this class? Time will tell.
Gerald: "Put your hand in mine and we'll be together forever."
"A
romantic," I smile and say to myself. "I wonder who he is in love
with!"
"They
found him!" Randy hollers to me excitedly, as he re-enters the room. Then
he gets embarrassed. "Sorry!"
"Wonderful!"
I reply. No one but Randy and I know the drama of the moment.
The
bell rings.
"That
was excellent work, class. Thank you! I will see you all again tomorrow and we
will discuss this piece of poetry, then."
I
watch them pick up their backpacks, leave the room and head down the hallway
for their next class.
"How
will I ever be able to understand all of them?" I wonder.
Randy
waits until the room is empty. "He has a broken leg, but he is fine
otherwise."
I quickly give him a hug.
To
know them is to love them.