I’d just finished a tough second period. Most classes with second period are tough — it’s just that kind of class. I was a little down about how much of a disaster that period could be when I decided to walk down to the cafeteria for a cookie.

The next-door social studies teacher emerged as I was walking by and told me about an unexpected exchange he’d had with a student.

“Latonya was talking in class,” he began, “And I told her to be quiet.”

Latonya (not her real name, of course) is a bright young lady in my related arts class. I’m teaching “Self-Advocacy,” which is basically social skills. And while Latonya is a very sweet young lady when she wants to be, she has a reputation for being tough on teachers.

In fact, the first time I met her was when I was calling her down for inappropriate behavior in the hallway and she began telling me how stupid my judgment was. When she first found out that I was teacher her third quarter related arts class, she said, “No way I’m staying in that class.” But by and by, talking very occasionally in the hallway or while outside before lunch, she came to change her opinion of me, and I of her. Before long, she was asking me when she’d be in my class, saying, “Mr. S, I can’t wait to be in your class.”

Now she’s in my class, and she’s one of the few who genuinely wants to learn how to make their school days more successful. She listens; she participates; she behaves wonderfully. But it’s not an academically challenging class, and I was curious how she was doing in other, “real” classes.

It seemed I was about to find out.

“You told her to be quiet, and…?”

“And she said, ‘Okay.’ And did it.”

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Mr. W. continued: “I was so surprised that I just looked at her and said, ‘Excuse me?’ ‘Mr. S. teaches us to just say “okay” whenever a teacher asks us to do something,’ she explained.”

It’s hard to explain the odd elation I felt. Part of it was for me — “Hey, I taught someone something!” It was important to feel positive after having had such a negative lesson. Most of the elation I felt was for Latonya. For someone whose auto-pilot sends her into fits of denial and aggression when confronted by a teacher like that, she accomplished something ineffably significant in just saying, “Okay.”

When I saw her in the hall during the next break, I told her how proud I was of her.

I wish I had a picture of her expression.

I walked back down the hallway, thinking, “These are the moments that keep me going in this job…”