[Ms. G is a fourth-year teacher in a high school in Manhattan.]
Terrell reminded me of Reuben Nassau, a high school classmate of mine. “When the lights go out, we all Negroes,” Reuben said to me after I rejected his homecoming invitation.
Terrell and Reuben Nassau were about as similar as a lobster and a unicorn.
During my first, nervous, long-skirted week of teaching, Terrell was quiet, peaceful, and polite. As a new teacher, it’s so nice to have someone treat you with politeness, I wrote in a note to him after the first week of class.
Terrell remained quiet, peaceful, and polite for the rest of the semester.
Terrell came to class in spurts. He’d come for almost an entire week, and then leave an empty seat in the third row for the next week.
I missed Terrell when that chair was empty.
Terrell’s handwriting was large and slanted and he could barely read it himself. Terrell wanted to be a lawyer.
Terrell’s average in my class was a zero. I was unsure how his reading or writing skills were because he didn’t turn anything in. His grandmother told me during parent-teacher night that she thinks it is because he is overweight and has that big, discolored birthmark on his neck. She referred to it as the “mark.” Terrell stood behind her, holding her little, faded-yellow sweater around his arms. I told Terrell’s grandmother that his grades were way too low, but as a gentleman, his marks were exceptional.
Terrell’s grandmother was my third and last parent that came to parent-teacher night. She was the most polite.
One day in class, we were working on our outlines for our Lord of the Flies character analysis papers. I made my way around to Terrell, who sat with pen in hand, book closed neatly. His hair was tied back in the usual ponytail. He smiled at me.
How you doin’ on this, Terrell?
To be honest? He looked up at me. Not so good, Miss G.
I pulled up a chair and sat, noticing two large runs in my stockings.
Tell me what to help you with, Terrell. Say the words.
Terrell tells me that really— he needs to read the book. I agree with him. He also tells me that he would like to read it. But now, he has no time.
But Terrell, I tell him, I read you the book in class. You must have caught some pieces.
Yeah, but the way you read, Miss G, he says.
What about it?
Your voice. It’s different. It’s real interesting, but I forget to pay attention to the story sometimes.
Yuna, my hairdresser, still tells me the story of the Tortoise and the Hare. The story is all right, but I am always more fascinated by her Korean accent — the way her tongue makes mundane words brand new.
I pull a chair up to Terrell’s desk.
So, let’s see… with all the materials I’ve given you, you could write the paper without having read the book. It would just take some time… Let’s say, about three hours. The essay is 40 percent of your grade. Three hours and you’d pass.
Terrell stares in thought. He looks sophisticated. Like a CEO. A monk.
You have to decide if it’s worth it.
He nods his head, like he understands; he just needs to find room for the equation in his head.
I’m looking for the place between us where it escapes, where I lose him, where my words and his words, after getting along so nicely, part ways without exchanging numbers.
Well, see Miss G, here’s the thing.
Tell me “the thing.”
I wait…
The thing is, it’s not just this class. Not just your class.
I wait…
I mean, I’m failing all of my classes.
I listen.
There’s more than three hours in store for me if I want to pass, you know? I have all this work for global, and I never wake up in time for Ms. Rios class either, so I’m all messed up in math…
You’re failing all those classes?
Yeah.
Lord of the Flies became trivial, almost mind-numbing. Piggy is at McDonald’s ordering a Number Two, Super-Sized with a Cherry Coke.
How does that feel? I ask, forgetting my role as “teacher,” because I really want to know.
Honestly? he begins.
I wait.
I wait.
You just get kinda used to it.
I look.
Yeah, I guess I’m kinda just used to it.
I look at Terrell — polite, warm, Terrell — and see the comfortable little cove of what I’ve titled “failure” that he has made into his home. It has worn-in furniture, orange candles, a locked door, no peephole. I can see somebody laying there, by the flickering earth-tone light, not really wanting to leave. I’m trying to decide if I could even blame him. I’m wondering if maybe I could even get comfortable there.
“Encouragement,” we learned in the humid mass of pedagogy at Teacher’s College. We learned to stand cheering YOU CAN DO IT, even if our hearts believe, “Let’s instill some hope, at least.” We learn remember that chapter we read on positive feedback.
I’d like to tape a sign outside the door of that comfortable shack of failure, that has so many kids like Terrell, just warm and waiting. It would say:
BEFORE ENTERING:
- Don’t bother pretending to believe in me.
- It may take a lot more than what you’ve come with to prove you care.
- You will begin as nothing, and may end as everything.
As a sunburnt little girl in Ocean City years back, I watched a turtle tiptoeing so slowly across a speeding highway, headed straight for his own splattering death. I assessed his speed, his misdirection, and translated it into all I knew how to: weakness. I never sensed possible courage. I mistook him for helpless.
Yuna would say, “Turtle go slow. But bottom line, get there. Turtle get there.”
We’ll get there, Terrell, I think. You help me when I get tired, and I’ll help when you get tired. But let’s get there.
Tagged: high school, Manhattan
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13 Comments:
1 Davinna
· Feb 3, 2010 at 8:09 am
Emily once again you have done something that is great. Keep pushing and your hopes will lead to your dreams and your dreams will change lives!
2 Coach J
· Feb 3, 2010 at 4:07 pm
What a terrific narrative. Thanks for sharing your experiences, and here’s hoping both you and Terrell get there.
3 Phyllis C. Murray
· Feb 6, 2010 at 6:11 pm
We are reminded by Haim Ginott that it is our approach that creates the climate in the classroom. It is our daily word that makes the weather in our classroom. And I believe the physical environment of the classroom is also in our hands…or at least it should be because we are the educators.
I have seen classrooms which were once barren wastelands, now transformed into oases of beauty and peace; freedom and serenity.Thus, in our Hunts Point School, in the heart of urban sprawl and inner-city urban blight, it is possible for classrooms to provide refuge and relief to our students. And this is indeed a pleasant contrast to the hustle and bustle and chaos outside.
In our school you can find a virtual penthouse on the Fifth Floor. This Special Education classroom is complete with pastel chairs and comfortable sofas, free standing bookshelves, and a bank of computers. Each learning center is inviting in this print rich environment. And a well structured program by the master teacher of this classroom means learning at every turn. It is a win-win situation for all students as they master the required skills and abilities on their educational journey and win prizes and awards each year.
There are Pre-Kgn Classrooms in our school which are miniature oases where dreams and ideas are nurtured as children read, study and explore within their newly found school environment. There are so many classrooms which reflect the TLC of teachers, who are dedicated to teaching; students who have been prepared to learn.
What we witness in our school are oases of organization, prior planning and direction. Teachers who are making personal investments in the students they serve. And once teachers are given the freedom of expression within these settings, marvelous things can happen every day. Thus, it is obvious, that the one size fits all classroom, like the one size fits all curriculum , has no place in education.
Our staff developer firmly believes in providing equitable and quality learning experiences for all students. She states this can only happen in an environment that encourages and supports the best practices in instruction. The Comprehensive Education Plan now serves as a guide for the staff. School Goals and Objectives are outlined and an action plan describes curriculum activities. Today, this Comprehensive Education Plan (combined with a guidance plan and student handbook) helps to clarify the high expectations desired for students and staff.
“To teach in a manner that respects and cares for the souls of our students is essential if we are to provide the necessary conditions where learning can most deeply and intimately begin.” [Bell Hooks, Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom.]
So…”Let Teachers Teach! Invest in Our School! Fix Don’t Close our New York City Schools!”
Phyllis C. Murray, UFT Chapter Leader 75X
District 8
4 Ms. Aha-Moment
· Feb 10, 2010 at 12:35 am
Underperforming students are real, flesh and blood people with multifaceted personalities- and traits to admire and traits to endure, and a load of “stuff” they bring with them into the classroom (like us, their teachers!) . Reaching them is not the same as elevating them academically, yet if we don’t reach them, as you did, there is no hope for motivation and progress. Bravo to you for allowing yourself to be affected by Terrell and for hanging in their with him.
5 Yo Mista
· Feb 11, 2010 at 1:25 pm
This is an amazing post. Very insightful and heartfelt.
Reading this certainly brought my hopes up again (realistically) after a challenging morning. Sometimes you forget why you’re here, and then you read something like this and you say, “I fight the good fight. I’m a teacher – They need me.”
Thank you.
6 Mr. C
· Feb 15, 2010 at 9:15 am
I am so happy that you can write what we lucky teachers have been able to share with these amazingly misunderstood ladies and gents. I can relate and I thank you for that.
7 Mrs. E's former poet
· Feb 17, 2010 at 7:26 pm
Are people still surprised? You’ve been doing this ever since I’ve known you, as you did with me. Someday somebody will realize but we always did.
Thank You miss E
8 KP
· Feb 18, 2010 at 9:56 am
Refreshing and honest! We need more teachers like you who can identify with students and see their potential and ability to succeed. Keep up the good work! You are an inspiration, and your students are lucky to have someone like you on their side.
9 Putter
· Feb 18, 2010 at 7:59 pm
Wow—great insights into the reality of a teacher’s experience. The depth of understanding, the detail of the circumstances, the realism of the story, all combine to convey a powerful feeling for the situation. But all hope is not lost and somehow, that’s the beauty of the story. She must be a very insightful teacher—Great writing and I’m sure……………..great teaching!!!!
10 LJ
· Feb 19, 2010 at 8:54 pm
Your view of Terrell is one that not many have. If only he could see the same. I think you’ve helped him start to look though, and one day he might find it. You ask such thought provoking questions of Terrell very nice work Ms. G.
11 Ken G
· Feb 21, 2010 at 7:55 pm
Here is to hoping the angle into Terrell is one you can find with all of your students. I have always felt we are all individuals, and therefore learn according to who we are and what we want. The real treasure is finding the way in to each and every student.
12 RW
· Feb 22, 2010 at 5:29 pm
What an insightful and moving piece. You have limned the living room of not only a failing student, but a failing person, a failing husband, and all those who ‘get used to it’. Your ability to reach out, to offer understanding, to see the inner possibilities, to make a difference provides incredible hope.
13 NA
· Feb 23, 2010 at 12:29 pm
What a moving piece. You will be the teacher who cared enough to LISTEN, and touch the lives of so many students, and made a difference in a way that not many teachers are able to.
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