A Shot of Elixir...

I've been so insanely busy during the last few weeks that it's been impossible to sit down and write something that doesn't have to be turned in for a grade. But, at the same time, I've missed writing for the sake of writing and the therapeutic advantages that go along with spilling one's thoughts onto paper (err pixels).

The last few weeks have been an exhausting rollercoaster ride consisting of summits of exhilaration and valleys of doubt--some days I'm thrilled to be entering the world of pedagogy, while other days I'm filled with crushing uncertainty at best and downright terror at worst. But I keep reminding myself that I've made a noble career choice, and I frequently reflect on the encouraging moments that have happened thus far.

The moment of the week may not seem like a big deal to anyone reading this, but for me the experience was like an intoxicating elixir that charged my spirits. For weeks I've observed this kid (Gabe) sitting in the corner of the classroom staring, blank faced, at nothing in particular. He never participates in class discussions; if asked a question he normally shrugs and glances at someone in the group to come to his rescue.

On this particular day, Mr. Leonard instructed the students to draw a vertical line down the center of a blank sheet of paper and write "problem" on one side and "solution" on the other. They were then directed to read several pages in the text that discussed issues faced by the American colonists and then list them accordingly.

Simple, right? No, not for everyone. For many, it took several explanations. And for Gabe, well, he just wasn't interested. At least that was the impression I got. I passed by his desk several times and his page was still blank. Finally, I decided enough was enough. I was going to get this kid to do something, even if I had to force the pencil into his hand and poke his skull with a ruler.

I pulled up a chair beside him and sat down. After a few minutes of re-explaining the assignment and asking him questions to make sure he understood, I finally got him to draw the chart. We read the first paragraph together and I spotted one of the problems the colonists faced: the dreaded Stamp Act, which forced colonists to pay a tax to have an official stamp put on wills, deeds, newspapers, etc. And the solution: the colonists boycotted British manufactured goods and the Brits responded by repealing the act.

I kept this info to myself, of course, and asked Gabe if he could locate the problem and the solution himself. To my wondrous delight, he pointed his finger to the word "tax" and asked if that was a problem. Resisting the urge to say, "You're damn right it's a problem," I nodded and proceeded to explain it every which way I could until the word "tax" tasted like blood in my mouth and dripped like blood from Gabe's ears.

Then we came to the solution. And I was surprised to learn that he didn't understand what the word "boycott" meant. Epiphany: Vocabulary is an issue with this kid. Yo comprendo now. So I had a fun time explaining the word, and as a way of making it more relevant to him I asked if he remembered what we (Americanos) did when we found out the French weren't going to support our decision to go to war with Iraq. He responded with a big smile and said, "Freedom fries!" I nodded and said, "You're absolutely right. And we boycotted French wine, French cheese, and French poodles."

He smiled again, and I downed another shot of that magic elixir.