Student of the...?

    End of the school year.

    Exams.

    Summer reading lists.

    And student awards.

    Oh, those student awards. From Perfect Attendance to Best Athlete and all categories in between.

    As an ESL teacher, I see many of my students exist on the fringes of the school experience. Sports, band, clubs; they often participate less frequently. So when I have a kid on a sports team, in the orchestra, or in theatre, my pride in that achievement soars. School awards at the end of each year are no exception.

    Each year, I and the other teachers select a top student for the year from our classes. Beyond the confines of each classroom, we also nominate and vote on the best citizens, the best athletes, and the best scholars. The top award is accorded the impressive title of Student of the Year.

    Student of the Year is a Big Deal. Not just a student with athletic ability or good grades. 

    

    Someone with character.

    Someone with leadership.

    This past year, one of my students was voted as the Student of the Year. Victoria was diligent, painstaking, cheerful, and unflaggingly helpful to everyone else. Never resting on her previous accomplishments, she worked as faithfully on classroom worksheets as on major tests. Never taking her success as completed, she daily proved her commitment to study.

    

    Since she and her family received an invitation to the awards ceremony, she KNEW she was receiving SOME award. Of course, she assumed it was a classroom-level honor. Maybe for my English class, or for Science or Art. As the ceremony progressed, I noticed her scanning the teacher's section nervously several times, trying to figure out who had singled her out for an honor.

    Finally all the individual class awards were given, and it was time for the higher-level certificates. Up next; citizenship and attendance. Rather than being called to the stage individually, groups were called en masse. At this point it became more like a factory; traipse across the stage, hold up the certificate, smile for the group photo. Then herded off stage left and directed back to the audience.

    So ordinary a process you could close your eyes and imagine it.

    

    Except this time someone goofed. They called Victoria along with the large group, shuffled her across the stage, realized there was no certificate for her. Simple mistake-but to an adolescent in front of a crowd, being singled out awkwardly on stage could have been catastrophic. One of the organizers hustled Victoria back to her seat, and I could see she was visibly confused and rattled. True to her mettle, however, she took a deep calming breath to soothe her quailing nerves. 

    By my watch, it took almost 15 minutes to reach the end of the program. To Victoria, unsure as to what was going on, what award (if any) she would receive, could there have been a mistake in calling on her at all, I am sure it felt a lifetime. Interminable athletic awards, most school spirit, then The Big Kahuna. 

    Stealing glances at her, I saw her celebrate her classmates as they were called to the stage, saw her congratulate them as they reseated themselves on her row. Saw her focus on their success and triumph rather than worry about her own place in the program. Saw her encourage the section seated around her to clap and cheer wildly for everyone that was selected.  As they called her name as Student of the Year, as she burst into jubilant tears as she stepped up to the podium, I realized how her actions proved her a worthy recipient.

    Not just someone with athletic ability or good grades.

    

    Someone with character. Focused on the success of others even in the midst of personal uncertainty.

    Someone with leadership. Effortlessly motivating others to do the right thing.

    Sometimes we think we have missed out on an opportunity, only to find later that we have met a significantly more signal honor. It is in the moments after the initial confusion and disappointment that we show the true test of our nature. Victoria showed hers last May, one balmy evening in the cafeteria of McMeans Junior High School.

    I hope that I can exhibit half the grace and presence shown by this spectacular girl.

    

 

Getting the wrong idea...

It is astonishing, the unasked-for details that students write in their essays.  Good writing is often driven by emotion, and teachers learn that the easiest way to jump-start reluctant writers is to direct them to the narrative topic of their best (or worst) day ever. 

The only problem with that is, they will often tell you exactly what you asked. Why wouldn't they? We adults have constructed a protective shelter under which we huddle; for middle schoolers, it is still under construction. With each passing year, I have had to learn to narrow my prompts in order to protect their privacy. So now, I try to keep to a safer topic like "What was your favorite vacation" or "Tell me about a class when nothing went as planned."

One of those essays is how I found out that Elena's worst day was when her mom was arrested for driving on drugs with a car full of children (her own and a few others) and consequently lost custody of them after trying to stab the policeman that pulled her over. Also how I found out that she and her sister had been split up into separate foster families. How her mom had ultimately gone to prison for half-a-dozen charges.

Elena had a long series of  "worsts". 

She had been fortunate enough to land, under the foster system, with a devoted family who really cared about her. Over two years of contact with her foster mom, I grew to respect and appreciate her fierce love and concern for her new daughter. Elena, quiet and tentative, took refuge in reading fantasy novels, and her mom fed her love for books with monthly shopping trips for the latest in sword and sorcery. She also set up lots of visits with the other sister, which were particularly precious to Elena.

Elena, despite her newfound security, was constantly apprehensive that her newfound life would collapse. She underwent therapy, and also joined a school group for anxious students that met weekly joined by a counselor. Most dear to me, she also joined the anti-bullying group as well as signing up as a buddy to a special needs student.

One morning I was shocked to see her enter the class in tears, with news that she had a court date for that afternoon. Since her language skills were still very low, it took some time for to explain that her new mom had told her that they were meeting with the judge about the foster arrangement.

Since she had been bounced from foster to foster several times, this meant to her that she was to be returned to the system for another family again. She had frozen with fear when she heard the news, and not dared ask her mom what it meant.

I suggested she call her mom to ask her about the court appointment, and sent her with a pass to the counselor's office to make her call in privacy. The counselor encouraged her to ask for explanation, then left her alone in the office to make her call. A scant minute later, she was jolted by loud shrieking and crying and rushed into the room. Elena was shouting the news that she was to be adopted, and the meeting was in service of that end. Shedding tears upon tears of elation and relief, she ran back to the room with news.

Waiting and worrying and hoping I had been. My troubled heart soared, my throat closed with a lump that threatened tears of my own, and my face broke into relief and elation. 

Elena spent two years in my classroom, and I was fortunate to see her gain confidence and skill with her English. I was even more encouraged to see her development into a mentor to others, especially the bullied and the friendless.

If only all of our fears proved to be unfounded, and the blackest news we dream would prove to be joyous!

 I hope I always have the faith to wait a while until events prove out and the courage to ask hard questions that  I am afraid to hear the answers to.....