Dad on Duty #66

She’s very tall.  She towers over the other kids in her grade.  I think that’s part of the problem; it makes her already significant outward differences from our other kids even more pronounced

I find her in the corner by the principal’s office. Where kids get parked when they’re in level 3 (out of 5) trouble.

She’s angry, sullen and withdrawn.

Typically not a good combination for learning.  One of the few things from my teacher’s training I remember.

Disconnection is etched on her face, like words on stone.  Arms crossed, head down, gaze pointed at the floor.

I ask her “what happened?  Why are you back here?”   She doesn’t answer, or even change expression.  Like a stone.

I realize; this is practiced.  It is how she deals with stuff.

We need to change that.

I rub on her back, silently, for a while.  She visibly loosens up.  She has school work, looks like math (ugh) on the desk in front of her. I ask her about it; no response.

She continues looking down, in anger.  And withdrawal.

I tell her: you need to do that work. I will help you.  Let me know when you are ready.

I do that same dance, over the course of an hour, three more times.  THREE times, over. Rub her back, talk (one sided, all me), ask her to do her work and offer to help her when she’s ready.

Slow, steady persistence.  Chip away.  And send the message that I, as the adult, am not ruffled or frustrated.  I can wait.  I will be here when you’re ready. But I need and expect you to get ready soon.  That’s the message.

About 30 minutes later (she’s now been in the office, instead of class, for about two hours), I’m sitting at the front desk working on scheduling for DOD events.

She approaches, work in hand.

She mumbles, almost whispers, something.  I can’t hear her.  I physically pull her closer and tell her “I can’t hear you baby; what?”   She softens, dramatically and visibly.

“I need help with my work”.

Wow.

I point to a chair over by Rosie; “grab that and pull it up here and we’ll work on it together”.

She does, and we do.  We get through about eight problems. She had already completed many more that that, on her own, sitting back there after we talked.

Her teacher shows up to retrieve her, and is surprised to find her sitting with me at the front desk, working on the assignment.  I tell her teacher; “we got through most of it”.  She’s genuinely shocked.

With a little prompting from the teacher, the girl thanks me as she heads back to class.  It’s genuine. She makes strong eye contact as she says it.  She connects.

I close my eyes. Deep breath.  That was a real victory; I need to relish it.

I think we can get there, with this girl.  Make a difference, help mold a good person.

We need a victory, even if it’s small, right now.  We’ve had some setbacks with our other kids.

It’s now dismissal, and 600 kids are pouring past me.  So many of them have struggles.  As each passes me, I feel their struggle.

But I’m a little more upbeat now, having won that small moment today.

We can do this.  We can lift these kids up.

And they will lift us up in return, many times over.