When I think about the importance of building student relationships, I think back to my third year of teaching.
That year I had a student named “Garrison” (names have been changed to protect privacy). I did not like this boy. He was passive aggressive, refused to do any work, and just sat there and grinned at me as if to say, “You can’t make me do anything” (which was pretty much true). Somehow that got on my nerves more than if he had openly defied me. He had no interest in making friends, no interest in anything we studied, no interest in being at school. I was not used to seeing that in the fourth grade.
I also had to confront my own racism. Even though I didn’t think I was racist, I needed to examine myself to see if unconscious racist attitudes might be behind my resentment of Garrison’s refusal to do any work and the beginning of my not caring about him or what he did.
One day I was telling my dad (who was very ill at the time) about this boy and how I had no idea what to do with him and that I was just giving up on him as a student. I had decided that we would just make our way through the year together with him getting bad grades and me not caring. I was failing at teaching this child. My dad looked at me and said, “You only fail when you give up. Please don’t ever give up on a child.” Knowing my dad’s belief in the value of every human life, I decided to try something different.
I started setting aside time to talk to Garrison every day. Not to fuss, not to give him the list of assignments he needed to do — just to talk. (He was suspicious at first, but I persisted.)
I asked him about his family, I asked him about what he liked to do at home after school, I asked him if there were any sports teams or musicians or movie stars he especially liked.
Little by little, I learned a lot about Garrison and actually started thinking that he was a great kid who was misunderstood. I learned that his parents were divorced and that his dad lived in another state with his two older brothers. He had moved here with his younger brother and his mom, who had family in the area. I learned how much he missed his dad and his brothers.
One day, I was driving home from school when I noticed a kid on the sidewalk, walking toward me. I recognized the jacket. It was Garrison. I saw that he was walking along, carrying a grocery bag and holding the hand of a small child. I slowed the car, rolled down the window and called “hello” to Garrison.
The look on his face was priceless. I don’t know when I have seen a bigger smile on the face of a child. He grinned at me, waved, yelled, “Hi, Ms. Smith!”
We had a brief conversation — he introduced his baby brother (about two years old) and said they were on their way home from the grocery store and they were going to fix dinner before his mom got home. I said goodbye and heard him say, “Bye! See you tomorrow!”
I drove on, wondering what just happened? I was driving to pick up my 2-year-old daughter from daycare. A student that I taught was clearly in charge of a 2-year-old little brother. I knew that he had walked about a half mile to a small neighborhood grocery store, with that little brother, and was now walking home. I would cook dinner for my family when I got home. Garrison was apparently doing the same for his family.
Suddenly, I had what Stephen Covey called a “paradigm shift” in his book The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. I saw Garrison in a completely new light: a strong, capable young man.
So our conversations changed. We still talked about whatever he wanted to talk about, but I also started talking to him more about his strengths and encouraged him to use that strength for academic work. I kept telling him I was not giving up on him, that I believed in him, that I knew he was capable (probably to convince myself as much I was trying to convince him).
I wish I could say that all of this completely transformed Garrison and that he turned into a model student. That did not happen, but he DID start putting a lot more effort into his work, finishing assignments, asking for help and for feedback.
My father died that year, after a brief illness. I was devastated. My class wrote me sympathy notes, but the most meaningful, heartfelt one came from Garrison who said he understood missing your dad and that he was praying for me.
On the last day of school, Garrison cried as we said goodbye. I did not see him again. I heard that he moved to live with his dad again. I hope that it was a good move and that his life was better for it. I know that my teaching and the way I look at kids was changed forever because of Garrison.
Another paradigm shift story — a couple of years later, I had a student named “Danielle.” While she was a sweet, loving child, she rarely completed homework and did not often complete classwork. She had a severe case of learned helplessness and drove me crazy with her “neediness.”
We were going on a big field trip to the mountains of North Carolina. The trip was rather expensive. We were raising money for scholarships and had a pretty good “bank” of scholarship money.
I had also talked to my students about the expense of the trip and suggested that they do extra chores at home or for relatives so that they could earn part of their way toward the trip. To my delight, several students actually did do that.
We were a couple of weeks away from the trip and Danielle had not returned her permission slip or any money toward the trip. I knew that she had a difficult financial situation (she was being raised by an elderly grandmother who worked in a fast food restaurant), so we were prepared to give Danielle a full scholarship.
I spoke with Danielle privately about this and assured her that all she needed to do was to return the permission slip. She told me that she would have the money and would bring it on Monday (the deadline to pay). I was skeptical, so I told her again that the permission slip was all we needed. I also jotted a note to myself to call her grandmother and tell her the same information.
But on the Monday payment deadline, Danielle arrived at school with a big smile on her face. She pulled out a bag of crumpled dollar bills and the signed permission slip. She was paying for the trip in full. She then proudly reminded me that I had told the kids to find a way to earn some money for the trip. Her uncle had a part-time job sweeping out movie theaters on Saturdays and Sundays. For the past three weeks, she had been getting up early to go with him to help and he gave her part of the money they earned. She had earned every dollar for that trip.
I was stunned. I remember that I could not even speak. All I could do was give her a big hug. She was so proud of herself, but not half as proud as I was.
I don’t think I need to tell you that, of all my students, Danielle enjoyed the trip the most. She had “skin in the game,” so to speak.
After that experience, I took a different approach to the learned helplessness. I had private conversations with Danielle to let her know how smart and strong and capable she was, and that I wanted her to apply that to her work and give it a try before asking for help. She did. She made great strides in reading that year, finishing the year at just slightly below grade level. But her math skills took a huge jump and she ended the year on solid grade level.
NEVER doubt what your students can do. And use everything you learn about them to remind them of just how strong and smart and capable they really are.
