Deandre

One of my Imaginative Writing classes is over 30 students, all of which represent a totally different class of student. I've got the rich kids, the poor kids, the kids with no parents, the kids with no friends, the emo kids, the preppy kids, the flirters, the writers, the thinkers....I've got everyone.

During the first week I had the class, I decided to have them write personal narratives...like short memoirs over a specific event in their life. This was when I began to know Deandre. In reading his list of 15 events, I began to see just how much he'd lost in his life by such a young age. Some days, he'd come in and write nonstop. Other days, he wouldn't say much at all. I will say, though, that he always was the first student to volunteer to read aloud, which made me appreciate him from the start.

Deandre lost his mother at an early age, and his grandmother assumed the responsibility. You can tell she did a great job raising Deandre. He has the manners, the school intellect, and the street smarts.His grandmother unfortunately passed as well, creating an even larger void. Deandre hardly had anyone to serve as a woman figure. Naturally, he began putting that emphasis on the girls he dated.

I'll never forget the day Deandre came to see me after school. We'd had a pep rally that day, and students are allowed to leave school right after the pep rally. Soon after I made my way back to my room, I heard a familiar voice coming down the hall. It was Deandre, accompanied by another fellow classmate and a nice looking young lady. When I asked if this was his girlfriend, he replied with a very shy, but proud "yea."

I was flattered! He wanted me to meet her! In addition, they both hung around for a good 15 minutes, just talking with me. It was nice to see him like that, and it helped me see him outside of just the side of him participating in class. From then on, I felt we were both a step closer in understanding each other.

One day, Deandre came into class as serious as can be. This was the second time I'd ever seen him like this. The first time, he was snotty and quiet. He'd shut down and refused to write. The first time, I hardly managed to get through to him at all, so when I saw his entrance this day, I decided I wasnt going to let him go unnoticed. I walked over to his desk when the class began their morning writing prompt. With every question I asked, I only got a shoulder response. He clearly wasnt in the mood to talk, so I offered the alternative of him writing out whatever his frustration was, in replace of the initial prompt for the day. It took some time, but after about 15 minutes, I saw Deandre get up, grab a computer, and then begin typing. Honestly, I thought he was doing the assignment, not the venting. It wasn't until he walked over and placed the computer down on my desk and said "READ," that I realized what he was doing.

After reading over a page of his frustrations, I felt a sinking feeling of sadness. I wasnt sure what else to do, so I grabbed his arm and brought him into the hallway. I went into mentor mode. I talked to him in the hallway for 30 minutes. We talked about everything from girls, to friends, to school, the finding new hobbies to occupy his mind a bit more. Sometimes, I forget about the frustrations that come along with high school. the drama...the relationships...the daily ups and downs. It's exhausting! After a solid 30 minutes had passed, Deandre and I hugged it out real quick, before going back inside. For the remainder of the period, Deandre sat quietly, typing away on his computer. By the end of the class, he'd typed over 800 words of frustrations, and felt much better.

That night, I decided I was going to get Deandre a journal of his own. My sister and I found a black leather bound journal, complete with light brown accents and gold rimmed pages. I knew instantly it was perfect!

The next day, all teachers were to have their advisory classes for about 45 minutes. I looked up Deandre's advisory teacher and asked her to send him down my way for a hot minute. Upon his arrival, I simply extended my hand with the journal. His eyes got huge. He could hardly believe it was for him. The extreme sense of excitement was one of the most sincere things I'd seen, and I felt immediate satisifaction. Furthermore, Deandre returned to my room about halfway through the day. He'd already written 4 whole pages in it, and he wanted me to read them.

My relationship with Deandre has continued to grow ever since. Some days, he still comes in, quiet as ever. He sits in the back and writes in his journal. Other days, he struts in, ready to have a good day, and practically stands in the front of the class, ready to share his voice. Regardless of his days, good or bad, Deandre knows I'm here to support him, and sometimes, that's more than most kids can ever rely on.

Marcus

I remember the first week I had Marcus in my writing class. He refused to sit in a seat. Instead, he insisted on sitting on the back table, silent as can be.

It took me a while to begin to really even notice Marcus. He didn't ever speak up in class, and he rarely turned in the writing prompts I gave at the beginning of each class. It wasn't until the class begun their first big project, memoirs, that I really even got any communication out of him. I remember addressing his lack of concentration one day, when a small group of about 4 students were circled around the table in the back. I offered him help, and he told me "I an't no teachers pet."

To be honest, I didn't think much of this, because guess who started hanging around a couple minutes after class to ask for help? And don't get me wrong...it wasn't much. It'd be simple questions like how to start his story, or what to include, or if it was ok to include something inappropriate. Alas, the due date had arrived, and Marcus's paper was nowhere to be found.

I didn't give up on him though. I started saying hello to him in the hallways. I began calling on him to vocally answer some of the writing prompts, even though I knew he hadn't written anything in response. And I started picking on him by giving him "the eye" whenever he wasn't working. Over the next month, Marcus had begun to open up a little more and more...By the end of the class' next project, Marcus had moved from the table in the back, and he planted himself right beside my desk. This way, he could ask for help, and no one would really notice. I'd hardly even noticed the move at first! It wasn't until I looked over his shoulder and saw just how much he'd written, that I really took it in. I took the opportunity by kneeling beside him and telling him how proud I was of him. Naturally, he rolled his eyes at me, but there was also a smile attached.

The next due date came and went, and Marcus's paper was still not turned in. It wasn't until the following week, that I begun to see even more effort on his side. I can't even remember the first time it happened, because it happened so much in one week. It was the week before report cards were to come out, and Marcus had an epiphany. I believe the epiphany was directly tied to him writing his memoir, because the "significance" part of his memoir involved getting what you want out of life by doing everything it takes, even if you don't like it....this involved school work! He began coming into my other classes. He'd come in, wouldn't say a word, grab a computer, and plant himself beside my desk to work. Deep down, I was feeling an enormous sense of pride, but I bit my tongue on most of these days by only saying a simple "Fancy seeing you here again," to him. A couple of times, Marcus would appear in my room, even for lunch. I can't really explain why, but these times he came in, I could tell it was because he didn't want to be around people of conflict. I began to realize that he was seeing my room as a safe place. On those days, he wouldn't even speak to me, and I wouldn't say a thing. On his way out, he'd even ask if I'd be around later, which I always made myself available. By the time report cards were due, Marcus has caught up on his missing assignments for me, and I could tell he felt proud as well. This was the beginning of my real connection with Marcus.

Some time had passed, and Marcus was now more vocal than ever in class. Almost every single class, Marcus was answering the written prompts aloud. Students were interested in what he had to say, and some would even challenge him. Often times, I found my classroom engaging in some legitimate debates, most of which were triggered by Marcus himself. He had a good voice in the class, and he was becoming a leader. The next assignment's due date was approaching, and Marcus was appearing in my class almost every day to work on his new story. He was determined to have it in on time!

One day, Marcus came in during my first class, and I straight-up asked him if he had a note or if he was skipping. He said he was skipping, because he'd been having some serious problems with another teacher. He begged to sit it on the class to work quietly on his story. After a long talk about the importance to owning up to mistakes in school, Marcus wasn't budging. I urged him to suck it up and take the consequences now, because delaying them would ensure worse consequences, like suspension.  With his refusal to budge, I decided to allow him to stay, only under the terms that he would speak to no one while getting his work done. And he did just that. By the end of the day, I asked Marcus to address them problem appropriately the following day at school. Although he agreed, I knew his smile meant he wasn't 100%.

The next day came, and I saw no sign of Marcus. My first class began their work, and I crossed behind my desk to take attendance. Quietly, my door opened, and Marcus appeared. After much "what happened" went between us, it was obvious Marcus was going to use my room as his hideout for a second day. I warned that they were going to be hunting him down, but as he grabbed another laptop and planted himself beside my desk, he simply smiled at me and told me not to worry.

By my 3rd class of the day, Marcus had decided to be careless, and left my room during lunch hours. He never returned. Deep down, I thought they'd caught him, and I kept waiting for the notification of his suspension. By the end of the day, I'd gotten a knock on my door. Marcus had been escorted to my room to retrieve his belongings. He'd apparently been told to stop by our school security, and instead of complying, he ran. Of course, all these actions, as well as the ones from the days before, lead to his inevitable suspension. I shook my head at him and said "What did I tell you?"

All this being said, Marcus' paper was turned in on time. Not only that, but his story ended up being over 2,000 words, which is almost triple the required length of the assignment.

It's kids like Marcus that remind me to be patient in forming relationships with my students. Some of them come from homes I cannot understand, and some will never even open up to me. Some, however, will come around in their own ways and show themselves on their own terms, just like Marcus. At the end of the day, my relationship with Marcus was something built out of mutual respect for one another.