They Grow Up So Quickly

I had my students write narrative essays about something they lost. (Have I told you this before?) Many of them are very, very sad. One of my students turned in a draft, and asked if he could write a final essay. (It all has to do with my "deadlines" to turn in work. I know I should be more strict, but I just can't bear to let to let them fail. I won't kill myself to get them a C or a B or an A -- but I will do my utmost to get them to a passing grade.)

He asked me if he could do a final draft. I told him to come by during homeroom, and I would have his draft graded. Well, knowing my squirrels the way I do, I graded his draft as a final, so he'd at least have a grade. He then forgot about his promise to get it for two weeks. (I wish I could track them all down -- but I get so wrapped up in dealing with 34 (times 4) of them for the day's lesson that I just don't always remember to call one of them on a late assignment.)

I read his essay. It was a heartbreaker. His cousin was beat to death in a mugging. The thieves got $10 and a cell phone.

His rough draft was just that -- rough. But I did my usual thing and made comments. I wrote him a note on the back, too. He made a comment at the end of his essay about not knowing how people live like that. I agreed with him. I don't know how people live like that. I had this student last year, and he admitted to having gotten in fights. I wrote him that I don't think I could punch someone in the face, let alone beat someone to death.

I went further. I gave him some tips on building suspense and giving his reader a powerful ending. He told the reader up front that the muggers got $10 -- I advised that it would be far more powerful to leave that to the ending. If he kept some of the details until the end, it would make the story that much more meaningful. And then I told him that I knew nothing could make this situation better, but by writing a better story, he might find more meaning in the story or help someone else find meaning.

Yesterday, he remembered to ask if I had graded his essay, and I gave it to him. I noticed that he skipped some of yesterday's assignment because he was reading what I wrote to him. (He actually read it!!) And today, he dropped off a new draft. It was much better. Much.

I can still see that more drafts would make it perfect, but he went from a C- paper to a B+/A- paper. And I got to talk with him today aboout how he was doing. I mentioned he'd been quieter this year. He admitted that he's thought about his previous behavior, and he can't believe how immature he had been. It's amazing how much they grow up from 15/16 to 16/17.

He still has problems. I let him slip through the cracks last semester. He had been doing well, and then something went wrong and he was absent for a week. When the attendance reports came through three weeks later, he had been marked as truant. His grade never recovered. He just didn't have it in him to make up what he'd missed. I've sworn to call him on it if he is absent more than one day. So far, he hasn't been.

He's a good kid. He has problems. He isn't a great student. The town he lives in is crap. I just want to encourage his resiliancy. I want to help him survive. In this town, for a young, Latino male, surviving is sometimes the best you can aim for.

When surviving is the goal, it's obvious that thriving is something the community has lost.