With his tiny stature and unusual coloring, he was a striking little boy. And during that first year I had him, he always had a devilish grin. I had two outstanding students in that class: Kristian, who was intuitive, had a natural brilliance, and George, who was more analytical, and more driven. They immediately engaged in fierce competition, which George, a born swot, consistently won. And it was terrible: if George missed the 100% mark on any task, he was inconsolable; if Kristian lost at any competition, he went ballistic.
Right before Christmas it came to a head, and the two little boys beat the snot out of each other. Of course, they recieved lengthy suspensions, per district policy, but George's dad, an exchange teacher, came in to plead the boy's case and he got his sentence reduced to two or three days. I was displeased by this turn of events, because I could see George was about to hemmorhage, he was wound so tight, and the poor kid needed a vacation, but my opinion was roundly ignored.
Kristian's mom, who worked several low-wage jobs, never came in, and Kristian stayed suspended the full ten days. When he came back and found out what had happened with George, I think that was the beginning of the end.
His grades slid, his attitude worsened. The wit was still there, but it's application to academic pursuits ended.
The ESL population at that school was bursting at the seams, and the program was getting split up between three different school. I had chosen to move on to a new site. As it happened, Kristian was in the group that went with me.
Seventh grade was even worse for Kristian than sixth. Openly defiant at school, his grades only remained passing because he was simply too smart to fail, and his new teachers were not impressed. At some point during the year, he showed up to school missing most of his upper teeth. When pressed, he attributed the injury to a bike accident, and said his mom couldn't afford to pay for the dental work.
This got our attention, and efforts were made to find him a dentist and figure out what was going on at home (nobody believed the bike story for a minute). The most we ever learned was that mom worked all the time and there was an older brother in the home who probably knew where Kristian's teeth were.
I adored Kristian -- I'm fond of most of my troublemakers, because they're usually the bright, creative kids. And Kristian was especially funny and engaging. But when the teeth issue came down the pike, that was it for me in Kristian's book. The more I tried to figure out what was going on and help, the more he despised me. He was a little Napoleonic toughie who did not appreciate being percieved as weak.
The years when I was at the same school as Kristian were the years I had the largest classes in the most crowded schools. So, when Kristian's English proficiency moved him out of my class and his attitude moved him out of my influence, he drifted out of my sight and other students, students on whom I had a chance of making an impression moved into his place.
It normally doesn't bother me one bit when a student decides they don't like me -- I generally take it as a sign that I'm doing my job, but I liked Kristian so much and was so worried about the path his life was taking that this time it upset me, this time I felt I'd made mistakes and really wished I hadn't.
Kristian moved on to high school and I moved on to a different middle school and that was the end of it for some time. However, now that I'm in central office, and am responsible for all of the high schools in town (there are 17, and there's at least one -- if not 60 -- students that I've taught in every single one), it's been fun dropping in around the city and catching up on tall, pimply semi-adults that I last saw when they were tiny, pudgy sixth-graders.
Yesterday I went to the school where my BIL teaches and where there are many kids I've taught in the past, as I'd been invited to help out with the oral part of the yearly English proficiency testing. Lo and behold, who should show up on my doorstep, but my old pal, Kristian. He was still short, and pretty pimply and skinny, and that odd dark-blond hair was in a ponytail now. And those green eyes were still striking. He looked like a moody little poet, and he spoke without even the tiniest trace of an accent.
He remembered me, and even smiled and chatted politely, although his voice was so quiet, I had to lean in to hear. His false teeth were held in with a retainer, but nobody who didn't know the story would ever be able to spot them. He missed one question on the entire test.
I asked him if he was doing well in school. That mischevious grin lit up his face: "No, not really. I'm failing."
"That's a shame." I said. "You were one of the smartest kids I ever taught." I tried to salvage the conversation, give him a positive out: "Well, I guess you've got other stuff than school going on." (I imagined a girlfriend, a band, a romantic, consuming drug habit... something.)
"No. I just lost my job yesterday, so not really." And again he gave me the patented Kristian smile -- a little sad, a little well-what-can-you-expect?, and yet with a little of the old devil in there, way back in the back.
"Well, maybe that'll change. Maybe you'll show us all one day." I knew I was being lame, but I didn't want to let it go on that note.
"Heh," he said, and walked away.
On the one hand, from past experience I had fully expected him to be rude to me, so I was delighted we were able to even hold a conversation. On the other hand... what a conversation!
The thing about ESL students -- and perhaps it's true of all students, even -- is that I never can (or wish to) take credit for my blazing successes. The George's of the world have an inner drive of their own making, and it's all I can do to hurl the material at them fast enough to keep them happy.
The failures, of course, are always my own. Even though I can't truly say what I did wrong with Kristian, or how, indeed, I would ever have done it differently. But I wish I had done it. Or that someone had. And all that's left now is to hope against hope that he'll turn out okay.
posted by Holley Wilson Mayville @ 4:08 PM
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