Potential

When you meet with a class for the first time, you can immediately tell who the players are.  Where they choose to sit, how they act, how the teacher and aides interact with them - all of this gives you some insight into the children.  

You'll always have the "front-rowers" sitting tall, hanging on your every word, almost reaching out to touch you as you walk by.  Then you have your hiders, in the middle rows, cautiously watching everyone around them to make sure they're doing the right thing, never really making eye contact.  And then your "back-rowers", the ones who actually put physical distance between themselves and the instruction, almost needing that extra space in which to exist.

I always pay close attention to the "back-rowers" the most.  They're who I have to reach.  Those "front-rowers" - they'll hear everything I want them to say and some things I wish they didn't.  But those "back-rowers" - they are like a dare to me.  They're saying, "I bet you can't reach me. I bet you can't pull me in."  I do love a good challenge!

On this particular day, one of the "back-rowers" stood out right away.  The teacher mentioned a below-grade-level performance.  Lots of movement, plenty of commentary by the teacher and aides, and obvious distance between himself and the rest of his classmates.  Challenge accepted!

I started my lesson.  I modeled for the students what they needed to do when they went to their computers.  It was quite a few steps, so I had a visual to go along with numbered steps.  As I was teaching, the classroom teacher continued to redirect and chastise the "back-rower".  At one point, even some other students jumped in.

As I sent them back to their computers to follow those multi-step directions, guess who was the first one completed?  Guess who followed every direction, exactly as it needed to be done, without a single error?  The "back-rower."

When he called me over, what occurred next is something I'll never forget.

"Mrs. Brown?  I'm done."

"What do you mean, 'done'?" (One of my favorite questions!)

"I signed in, made my folders, shared them with (teacher).  Can I go on Dreambox now?"

"You know what? You were able to complete all those tasks, and really well!  I wonder if you can help me with something. Do you see all these students in here?  Lots of them need help, and I can't get around to all of them.  Do you think you could help me?  Be my expert?"

Silence.

"What do you think?  Are you up for the challenge?"

Smile.  "Yeah!"

I announced to the class that we had another expert in the room to help them.  I instructed him to walk up to someone with their hand raised, ask them, "What can I do to help you?" and listen to what they had to say.  No putting your hands on their keyboards, but use your words to help.

He happily went around, helping students one by one. At the beginning, the other students weren't sure what to do.  "Him? Helping me?", they seemed to be thinking.  "But he's always the one that needs help!"

Sooner than I'd like, class ended.  He left the class with the other students, chatting and interacting, right up at the front of the line. (There's a big difference between "front-rowers" and "front-liners"!)

Fast forward four months. 

I hadn't worked with this class at all since that day.  This morning I happened to be walking by as Morning Meeting was starting, and the teacher invited me to join.

As I sat down, the teacher introduced me and said, "Does anyone remember Mrs. Brown?"  

Crickets.  

Then I heard a voice say, "That's Mrs. Brown!  She taught us about Google Drive in the Computer Lab, remember?"

His smile was huge, and probably matched the one on my face.  It feels good when someone sees you, gives you purpose, challenges others' perception of you.

I saw him that day, way back at the beginning of the year, for his potential, not his shortcomings.

I like to think he saw me right back.