- I’ve been struggling with my reading this month and have decided to give myself a break–I’m going to read a few easy reads to get me back in the swing of things.
- I responded to zwebby’s tag and have tagged a few below–you should check and see if I tagged you.
It’s Sunday, and on a lot of Sundays I write a little rather than reporting on my day. This is part one of a story about my first teaching job. I’ll put up part two tomorrow.
My Boy, Charlie
I met Charlie when I started substituting as the high school dyslexia teacher in a school district in north Texas. This would later become a permanent position for me, but I did not know that they were looking for a full-time replacement when I started substituting. I walked into the second class of the day and there was Charlie. He was tall, good-looking, and had a flop of blond hair. He was also jumping up and down—Charlie was one of the most hyper children I had ever seen. He and another student were jumping up and down and shouting, “Are you our new teacher? We scared the last lady off!” Unfortunately, this was completely true. Charlie and a few of the other students were what you would call “exuberant.” They couldn’t stay seated, they blurted out, and they were extremely physical. And they were in a class for dyslexic readers which meant their reading was weak at best. They would fight you tooth and nail on assignments, and were masters of distraction.
Charlie and I went head-to-head several times during my first semester. He hated to stay in his seat and we would argue constantly about that. Right after Christmas his family moved out of the district and he left the school. I must admit I was relieved.
The next year I received my roll, and guess whose name was listed on it? I groaned inwardly; I spoke with the principal. Charlie was not a bad kid, but he could rile up an entire class, and I’d enjoyed my break from him.
I should have given him the benefit of the doubt because Charlie had changed. Call it maturity if you want, but he was a different person. I could tell that he still had hyperactivity problems, but they were in check now. He was also respectful, which was a change from the year before. He kept the younger students in line and encouraged them to do their best. It was as if he had done a one-eighty. His junior year he was a joy to teach and a pleasure to have in class.
As soon as I saw Charlie at the beginning of his senior year I knew something was different. The brightness had left his eyes, and he looked tired. After a few days he revealed that he had moved out of his mother’s house and was living on his own. I was extremely concerned. It’s hard enough to support yourself through college which only meets for fifteen hours a week. I didn’t see how he could live and go to high school full-time. This was his senior year, and I couldn’t bear to see him fall down right before the finish line.
I know that’s not really a cliff hanger, but it gets good–I promise!