“I can’t do it! Are you happy now?”

When I met D it was 2008. He was entering fifth grade and being raised by his grandma.  His mom was still in the picture but was sick and confined to a wheelchair and therefore was unable to care for D.  His grandmother worked for the Charlotte-Mecklenburg public transportation system and to my surprise, while our school did not actually have busses at the time D, an 11 year old 5th grader, would actually take the public bus to and from school.  I didn’t see the assets in that at the time.  Instead, in my late twenties, white woman eyes, “How could a family do that to their child?” 

Sadly, there were other moments of unconscious bias and judgment that crept into my interactions with D and his grandmother.  I remember at one point, while in math class, I was getting after D for not completing his homework and told him I would have to call his grandma and let her know that he would have to stay after school until his work was completed.  His grandmother asked to talk to him.  I handed him the phone and he said, “Don’t make me stay with this woman.  If you do, I am going to run from this school.”  You would think that comment would be a wake up call or, even when D actually did in fact leave the school on his own accord, caught the bus and found his way to his grandmother.  But no, that only added fuel to my fire.  

I should mention, when D entered fifth grade at our school, he had just tested out of receiving SPED services and therefore the accommodations and modifications that were legally binding, he no longer had.  Extra time, modified homework, various ways to support his learning were no longer required for him and while his diagnostic scores indicated he still severely needed support, as he was at least 3 years behind in math and reading (putting him at a 2nd grade level), and while our school did offer some interventions, it wasn’t enough.  

I can recall and share even more stories of tension with D and ways that I put the blame on him, his circumstances, and his family.  You name it, whatever was getting in the way of his success could never be me.  Afterall, my heart was in this. Six years earlier I had been selected to a prominent and highly selective organization that was working to dismantle educational inequity.  I was the founding math teacher at a school that taught predominately students who were black.  I was passionate, working 12-16 hour days and I wanted to save the world of education.  However, it wasn’t until sometime in the third quarter (that is over six and a half years into my teaching career) that I finally stopped and heard what D had to say, what he was feeling and it took him being vulnerable with the possibility of losing face in front of his peers that I finally listened.  

While in homework detention one afternoon, D was sitting amongst at least another 20-25 fifth graders.  Mind you, we only had  95 students in the fifth grade so this is a pretty big percentage of students.   You can imagine, having what could be interpreted as the least engaged students and/ or with the highest learning needs in one space, how overwhelming it was to say the least.  It was like playing the most challenging game of whack-a-mole.  Students asking for help, hands constantly up, some students just taking the opportunity to play knowing that this would be over by some point and we wouldn’t keep them there all night. Most unproductive and, while I didn’t and wouldn’t have thought to own it at the time, unproductive because of me.  

At one point D had gotten out of his seat after already being told multiple times to go back and sit down.  Finally, I had it. That was my final straw and I remember yelling.  Full on college basketball coach yelling.  Something to the effect, “D, ARE YOU KIDDING ME? SIT DOWN NOW! DO YOUR WORK NOW! DO BETTER NOW! I AM SICK OF SOUNDING LIKE A BROKEN RECORD WITH YOU! IF YOU DON’T SIT DOWN, YOU WILL BE HERE TOMORROW!”  

“Tomorrow” happened to be Saturday.  Not only was I ready to “punish” D, apparently I was ready to punish myself.  (Given the temper and yelling, I would say, and most could argue, I definitely deserved the “punishment”.) Thinking he would go back to his seat, you can imagine my surprise when I was met with a rebuttal.  An argument that mirrored my tone and also my volume.  However, it wasn’t vindictive, hurtful or shaming toward me, but rather a pleading.  While I can’t remember all the things that were shared between my students and me, this “plea” will be forever etched in my brain.  He yelled at me, “I CAN’T DO IT! I CAN’T DO IT! ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?” He threw the work at me.  Tears, running down his face.  The other students weren’t quite sure what to do because the nature of our school was, if a student argued back with the teachers, there would be consequences and even more so if students were to snicker or poke fun at another student.  

I felt the desire to retaliate and yell back, but uncharacteristically, I didn’t. As I watched D sob and as I looked around the room in that moment, I realized, all this time, I was punishing D for being behind. Which was indeed, no fault of his.  I was punishing him for needing help.  He wasn’t getting out of his seat to be disrespectful.  He needed help.  He wanted help.  And I was not giving it to him.  

That afternoon D’s grandmother would in fact be coming to pick him up.  Before she arrived, I knew that I owed D and her an apology.  I remember sitting down in the classroom next door and first simply said, “I am so sorry.”  He was seemingly and rightfully surprised by this and also likely didn’t trust it.  However, the image of him standing there, bearing his truth, I knew I was in the wrong and it wasn’t about him disrespecting me.  It was about me disrespecting him time and time again and him needing to be heard and helped. 

We ended up talking for quite a while and I did everything in my power to ask and listen and share my gratitude for his vulnerability.  While the conversation was fruitful, I knew that it would take a lot more to earn his and his grandmother’s trust.  When his grandmother arrived, I also apologized to her.  Expressing, for the sake of D and his education, which was so clearly important to both of them, I would be better.  I had to be better.  

It did take time, but I kept my commitment and within weeks, D was asking to stay after school and getting help.  His grandmother and I worked out a schedule and we made sure D was getting the supports he needed both during and after school. Some evenings he would stay with me until 6pm.  We would find leftover lunches and make sure he was fed dinner.  He would complete his homework and we would work on concepts that he still needed to master.  While the academic time was amazing, the most special time was when he had finished all his work and we would simply help put the school back together; cleaning up classrooms, sharpening pencils, helping put away chairs in the “cafegymatoriam”.  Not only did I learn he was (and is) a very bright student who needed different types of support, I also learned that he had one of the biggest hearts of anyone.  

Beyond helping around the school, D’s heart presented itself in profound ways.  Whether it was interacting with peers and making them laugh, being vulnerable and sharing when he was confused in class (no need to yell about it any longer), smiling to make someone else feel better, D made people feel good.    

One moment particularly stands out though. One day D’s biological mom came to the school. She was in a wheelchair.  I want to say she brought him lunch, but the details are small in comparison to  how D reacted to her being there.  He beamed. He was attuned.  He wanted everyone to know who she was and it was clear, she meant the world to him.  Because academics were (and still are) such an important part of the school, we rarely “wasted” a minute.  Lunch and recess seldomly went over and when it was time to return to class, like clockwork, students were lined up and heading to “get their learning on”.  That day however, D came up to me and so cautiously yet thoughtfully asked, if he could stay with his mom until she had to leave.  It was one of the easiest “yes’s” I have ever had to give a student. 

Dear D, 

That moment in homework detenition happened over a decade ago and still is a story I share with teachers when they are losing their patience with students.  I always ask them, “Could you imagine being a student and not understanding something?  I think I would act out too.”  That moment was a turning point for me as a teacher.  I have taken that lesson with me and share it with as many people who need it.  You need to know, those last few months of working together, seeing you grow and just learning what an amazing human being you are, I likely learned more from you than you ever learned from me. 

You and your grandma taught me that getting on a public bus to get to and from school is not neglectful or irresponsible parenting; it shows commitment to your education!  It shows how much you and your grandma were willing to invest in your education.  And it shows your capacity to learn and what you know beyond the four walls of a classroom.  I am not sure how many adults can take public transportation. I for one was (am) not privy or skilled at understanding the complexities, yet, there you were, an 11 year old navigating Charlotte, NC and its public transportation system like a pro.  Brilliance! 

You taught me to consider first why a student might be “acting out” and to give them grace and find ways to understand where they are coming from before they have to blow up to be heard.  No student should ever have to do that, and I am so sorry you had to with me. 

You taught me that there is so much to a person’s story and assumptions should never be made about the students we are teaching.  Teachers must take the time to get to know their students deeply and never put the blame on students when they enter their classroom behind.  Had I taken that time early on, I often wonder how much learning would have taken place.

You are a source of inspiration to me and I am so proud to say that I know you and I am grateful to everything you have taught me.  

Humbly, 

Mrs. (Adams) Pomis 

• When teaching students, it is imperative we get to know them and truly know them. I made assumptions about D and his family that only made our relationship be more contentious. If we are to truly educate our students, they need to know we value them and see in them their assets. Be sure to get to know your students and their families deeply. (Notice, I will NEVER use the term “parent” exclusively because D’s family helped reinforce that those who are raising us are not necessarily those who birthed us and their role very well might not be a “traditional” parent. I challenge you to change your words from exclusively Parent to Family(ies). For example, instead of “Parent Teacher Conference” be more inclusive and say “Family Teacher Conference”.)
• Our students might come to us with deficits, just as every person has them; we are human. However, our students come to us with even greater strengths and we have to know what these strengths are especially, beyond that of how students learn. Like in D’s story, I neglected to see his strengths in building friendships as well as navigating the city of Charlotte through the public transportation system. He brought so much with him to the school and when tapped into, he was able to learn so much more!

*If you want concrete strategies to help get to know your students and their families deeply as well as learn their strengths, feel free to post with questions! And anyone who reads this and has strategies they have utilized to enhance building deep and authentic relationship with their students and families feel free to share as well!