Twenty-one grows up

Twenty-one was in first grade when we met. He was, to say the least, a rambunctious child. He also hated school. A lot. He would regularly scream and throw things. He would also run out of the classroom at least once a week. The worst part was that I was a first year teacher, so I had almost no experience and very few strategies on which to rely. I will never forget my perfectly put together principal sitting on the floor with my class having a Thanksgiving party in the hallway while the counselor and I each stood at one of the classroom doors to keep Twenty-one safe and in the building. I mention ‘in the building’ because he had previously run out of the building and into the schoolyard, which was fenced in thank goodness, and dropped himself into a construction hole when the counselor, who was not far behind him, started to catch up. Twenty-one had also gotten off the bus at the YMCA where we went for swimming lessons and darted out into three lanes of traffic on a busy city street and ran into the park. Twenty-one was not to be underestimated.

So there we were in a room full of overturned desks and Elmer’s glue, we had been doing cut-and-paste projects, was everywhere because all the gluey papers had been on the desks before they got tipped over in Twenty-one’s rage. I’ve never felt as powerless as I did in that moment. I wasn’t angry at Twenty-one; I was genuinely concerned for his well-being. As the year progressed things got better and aside from the random days when Twenty-one couldn’t keep himself together, or I wasn’t paying close enough attention to see the signs of a meltdown, we were fine. Better than fine, we actually worked pretty well together. Until the last day of school when Twenty-one had the most phenomenal meltdown I’ve ever seen. He wouldn’t get on the bus to go home because he didn’t want to leave. We called his mother, and she came to get him, but he wouldn’t leave with her until I promised to meet him back there the next day.

The first day of my first summer vacation found me getting up and getting dressed and going to work, but it was worth it. Twenty-one laid to rest any fears he had, whatever they were, and went off into his summer vacation content in the knowledge that I had gone nowhere. How do I know it was worth it to build that relationship? Because years later I saw him working at a local restaurant and he recognized me and as soon as he called my name I knew exactly who he was. While I ordered we talked and caught up and he told me everything we could squeeze in to the limited time, we had to catch up. However, I went to the restaurant fairly often, so I got to hear, over time, about his high school years, how his mom was doing, what his siblings were up to, etc. It gave me a wonderful warm feeling. But that’s not the end of the story.

I had been teaching for quite a while and had moved up to working in middle school and got a job working at the local university with a summer program. We were on a field trip one day and I looked up as we pulled back on campus and realized the man I saw at the bus stop we were getting out at was none other than Twenty-one. There he was, a senior in college, standing there and then suddenly calling my name and hugging me. I’m fairly certain his friends and my students thought we had lost our minds, but it didn’t matter. For just a split second, we were back in first grade.

What I learned from Twenty-one was that sometimes the hardest things you do are the most rewarding in the end. I had truly struggled with feeling like a failure because I couldn’t control him. Then one day I realized he didn’t need to be controlled, he needed to be seen and listened to. At that moment I became the best version of my teacher self and he became the best version of his student self and we made our way through the obstacle course of the rest of first grade together. I’ve never forgotten that lesson either. I always remember Twenty-one when teachers gather and start stories of the hardest year they ever had or the student who made a permanent impact on them. Twenty-one taught me one of the most valuable lessons I’ve ever learned, to see children for who they are, and to listen to them when they are telling you what matters to them. Wherever you are and whatever you’ve made out of your life, I hope you are somehow aware of the change you made in my teaching career. Thank you Twenty-one.