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Little Steps

Dear Terrence,

I read your letter and felt it really needed a reply: you touch on a lot of issues that got me thinking, gave me hope, and honestly caused me to worry a bit.

You wrote that you “feel like people criticize [you] because of [your] past,” something which “hurts [you] to even try to change.”I don’t know what you thought I might have known about your past, but I knew nothing. I’m also fairly sure the other teachers on the team knew nothing about you. Yet we can all accurately guess about your past because of your present. I don’t mean to be offensive or blunt, but despite your desire to change, you still exhibit a lot of behaviors that draw negative attention to yourself. I don’t know about other teachers’ rooms, but I can describe some of the things in your behavior in my room that makes it pretty clear that you’ve had a rough past in school.

  1. You often blurt out things that you’re thinking, things that might not help the classroom atmosphere. Sometimes you say things that are genuinely insightful, but it’s still disruptive.
  2. You sometimes get up and move about the room for this or that reason without asking permission or seeming to notice that doing so would be an interruption. Sometimes this is to do something genuinely helpful, but it’s still disruptive.
  3. You put your head down when you get frustrated, and even when you’re not frustrated, you cover your face with your hands and completely disengage.
  4. When I correct you, you often quickly develop a negative, disrespectful attitude that comes out in your tone of voice and your body language.

You write that you want teachers to “just give [you] a chance and stop messing with [you],” but if a teacher is correcting these behaviors, she’s not “messing” with you. You must understand that some of your behaviors genuinely disrupt the class, and a teacher cannot continue teaching over disruption.

I do have some bad news, though: while no one is messing with you, you’ve made it clear what gets under your skin, and if a teacher wanted to mess with you, wanted to provoke you so that she could write you up, you’ve made it easy for that teacher (whom I hope you never meet) to do just that. You’ve made it clear what your buttons are, what gets you heated and easily leads to a disrespectful outburst. All a teacher would have to do is push just a little and BOOM! there you go, and there’s the excuse to write a referral. In that case, such a teacher would have played you, controlled you. I hope you never meet such a teacher, but it’s entirely possible. It’s also possible that a teacher who wouldn’t normally do that might, in a moment of frustrated weakness, do just that to “get some peace” for a while.

Fortunately, I have some good news, too: letters like yours make a teacher’s day. It gives us hope that perhaps we can help make a difference in students’ lives. I don’t know a single teacher—especially the teachers on our team—who won’t go out of his or her way to help a student who wants to change his/her behavior to do just that. However (and it’s a pretty big “however”), you have to show that you are really trying to make these changes. You have to show progress on a regular basis. Not big progress; not 180 degree changes overnight. But teachers need to see that you are serious about something like this. Otherwise, we’re left wondering if you’re just playing us. I’m sure you’re not, but it has been known to happen, and teachers tend to be a bit wary about that.

Here’s what I suggest you do if you really want to be a “changed man” as you so aptly called it. First, make sure you go to each teacher and say as much to him/her. Look the teacher in the eye; make sure your facial expression is pleasant; be sure not to let yourself be distracted by anything other students might be doing; then say what you said in the letter. “I’m trying to change, but I might slip into old habits. Please be patient with me as I try to make these changes in my life.” Second, make your strongest effort to change right then. Show the teacher you mean business. Show the teacher that you are not just talking the talk but you’re trying to walk the walk. Sit quietly; stay in your seat; keep your head out of your hands; make sure you don’t use a disrespectful tone of voice. Third, when you slip up (and you will: you’re trying to change some habits that you’ve had for a long time, I suspect), apologize. Sincerely. But not right then! If you do, the teacher is likely to think you’re just trying to disrupt further. Just smile as best you can and comply. After class, you can go to the teacher and say, “I really messed up. I appreciate your patience with me. I’ll do better next time.” Finally, make sure all your friends know what you’re up to. If you’re trying to be Mr. Thug or Mr. Cool Dude with them but Mr. Nice Guy with your teachers, you’ll get those roles mixed up and cause yourself more trouble. Be a leader: tell your friends, “Hey, I’m sick of hating school, sick of dreading school, sick of feeling like I’m wasting time. I’m going to make some changes in how I act, how I think, how I see myself and the world.” Be a leader: show other kids how to do it. They’ll follow your example, because everyone loves to see a “troubled-kid-straightens-everything-out” story. We love it, all of us.

Understand that I’ll do everything in my power to help you. I have some tricks I can teach you about making a good impression, keeping your impulses in check, and having a positive affect. (If you don’t know what that means, ask me: I’ll gladly explain.) But as I said earlier, I and all the other teachers have to see change immediately. Not enormous change, but change. Effort.

Chess Club Week 2

We had our second meeting of chess club this afternoon. It was scheduled to go from 3:30 to 4:30, but at 4:50, I finally had to tell two sweet but slightly nerdy girls (after all, we’re talking about chess club here) that they’d have to photograph their game and finish it next week.

The position is not terribly hopeful for black, but she does have a passed pawn. However, it’s only on the second rank, so it’s not passed all that much. White has a two-pawn advantage but might have a bit of difficulty getting the G and H pawns rolling before the black king can get over to help move that passed pawn along.

Book Fair

The Boy wanted to go to the bookfair. For someone who doesn’t like reading, or at least claims he doesn’t like reading, he certainly does get excited about getting new books.

The trick, as with every reader, is to find books he likes — and in his case, that means books that make him laugh. The Dog Man series is a favorite, so he bought the newest installment, Grime and Punishment. Yes, it is making the allusion you’re thinking. Other books in the series include:

  • Mothering Heights
  • Fetch-22
  • Lord of the Fleas
  • A Tale of Two Kitties
  • For Whom the Ball Rolls
  • Brawl of the Wild

I don’t know how many other kids know the allusions, but I explained them all to the Boy. I couldn’t talk intelligently about two of the books, though: For Whom the Bell Tolls (which I’ve never even attempted to read) and Catch-22 (which I tried to read in high school but just never got into).

Afterward, a bit of guitar practice. D, my best friend since forever (as my kids would say), is coming to town next weekend for a Genesis concert in Charlotte: it will be a boys’ night out, just the three of us. The Boy’s first concert. He’s preparing a little concert for D with a few little surprises sure to make him smile.

As for the girls this evening? They’re at L’s third and final club tryout. She’s been offered positions in the top teams of the other two clubs she tried out for this weekend, and I expect the same from this club. It is, after all, Excell, for whom she’s played for two years now, playing sand, grass, and indoor with them. I have a feeling, though, that she’s not going to go with them this year.

Chess Club

We had our first meeting of chess club at school today. I didn’t have a chance to get it going during the first quarter because of — well, truth be told, a good bit of it was laziness. But I was overwhelmed with all the responsibilities of teaching a class I hadn’t taught in a few years, so I put it off. I already regret it a little: I had about 12 kids show up for the first meeting today, and three of them were girls. I can’t express how thrilled I was that three girls were interested in chess, something always seen as a nerdy boys’ game.

Finals

It’s nearly the end of the fall soccer season: we’re in the final week of practice before the final game on Saturday. It’s been a tough season: no wins except through forfeit (does that even count?) and only one tie (last week thanks to E’s hat-trick). There’s been a little tension within the team as a result of it all. One boy, arguably the strongest player on the team, started taking things into his own hands (or rather, feet) and trying to be a one-boy show at times, not passing or even appearing to be aware of the other players. This frustrated some boys and comforted some boys: as long as he had it, things rose or fall on his shoulders. A win would be due to him, but a loss could also be attributed to him. Perhaps they didn’t think that, but I’ve no doubt it was at least an unconscious relief for some when it was A that was losing the ball in a move that ultimately ended in an opposing team’s goal rather than their “screw-up.” But now A has been out for a few weeks due to injury, so the boys have had to gel without him. As a result, there’s been better team play, and now that everything has gelled to some degree, it’s almost over.

That’s a fairly frequent pattern in life, though: as soon as everyone gets used to the year’s teachers, for instance, and everything is clicking seamlessly, the year ends. This is even more the case in block scheduling, like at L’s high school, where classes meet for 90 minutes a day but only for one semester. By the time everyone really knows how the class works and has found their place in it, the class is over.

In the repetitions of the seasons and holidays, it’s the same. As soon as we’re comfortable in the hustle of the Halloween/Thanksgiving/Christmas/New Year’s quartet, it’s over and we’re all exhausted from it.

“In my beginning is my end,” wrote TS Eliot

All Saints’ Day 2021

This year was the first All Saints’ Day that we visited both Nana’s and Papa’s grave. I guess it was always their common grave from the time the bench was set in place but now both their remains are resting there.

It’s strangely normal already.

Our Tent Last Week

I forgot about the pictures we took in and of the new little tent we used last week.

To call it “cozy” is quite an understatement.

We had to store the gear in the cabin in which some of the other boys slept.

Hero

We all dream of being a hero. We can say we don’t, but we all have those little fantasies that at least once, we save the day. E is no exception, and for that reason, this fall’s soccer season has been disappointing for him. It’s not that he hasn’t felt like a hero; he has positively felt like he’s added very little to his team. In one game, an attacker beat him when he was a defender to score the first goal of the game, and I could see from his expression afterward that he felt horrible about it.

It certainly doesn’t help that his team has won only one game this season, and that was only by forfeit because the other team didn’t know about the game time change somehow and no one showed up. They’ve been beaten and they’ve been positively trounced.

“We’re never going to win,” has been the Boy’s refrain as we head back to the car. The other boys feel the same, I think.

Last week, for example, while we were camping, only five of the players showed up. They played anyway, and the asshole coach of the opposing team played all seven positions against our five boys, so the poor boys got beaten, though not as badly as one might expect (7-4).

Today, too, we were shorthanded, but a boy from the other team joined our team, and we played at even strength. (That coach showed class unlike the classless individual from last week.) We began relatively unremarkably, with neither team really dominating. Then, about ten minutes into the first half, E broke free with the ball and headed straight to the goal, firing a rocket that went right by the goalie and sank into the back corner of the net.

“E just scored!!!!!!!!!!” I texted K with probably the biggest grin smeared across my face. Last season, his first with CESA (the local soccer league), he hadn’t scored a single goal all season.

By the end of the first half the red team had equalized and then pulled ahead, so we went into break under a bit of pressure.

“I was sure we were going to lose,” E explained later. When red scored a third time, E was convinced that they were going to experience their next inevitable loss. But shortly after that, the Boy broke through the defenses again and scored his second goal, pulling his team to within one. Just a few minutes after that, he was through again, but he stumbled a bit and sent the ball well wide of the goal.

“How amazing that would have been!” I thought.

Just moments later, the Boy broke through, outran two defenders, and shot a lovely looping curve into the net. Three goals in one game — a coveted hat-trick. To top it all off, I finally had my camera up while he scored — in the other two, I’d dropped it to my side and just cheered him on, but the final one, I kept firing away.

But of all the shots from today, my favorite is the one just after his first goal when he’d just gotten a big congratulatory low-five from a teammate. Head slightly down, a little spring in his step, he walked back to his position. I look at the image and wonder what exactly he was thinking, wonder just how much it might help his confidence, wonder if it might not be the best thing that’s happened to him in ages.

New Lightroom

Messing with the new Lightroom mask feature — it’s like Photoshop in Lightroom.