Learning to tie shoes

This time of the year is always a little hard. I start looking at the kids to evaluate how the year has gone... who's ready to go onto third grade, who needs a bit more time... thoughts like that. It's also the time we have meetings with parents and guardians to talk about how students are doing and what modifications (if any) need to be continued next year. It was Monty's turn yesterday.

Monty is one of the boys I have been concerned about all year. He's smaller than the other children. He takes a great deal of time to process simple instructions. He flaps his arms when he walks in the hallway. His writing is labored and abnormally large. It is difficult to get a direct answer to a question, because of speech/ processing difficulties. He came in with a reading level of 8, which is about the middle of the year in first grade and is still behind because of fluency and comprehension-- or are those symptoms of his speech delays? (sigh) He plays easier with the Kindergarteners than with the second graders or even the first graders. The last straw came when I found myself at 5:15 pm on the hallway floor teaching him to tie his tennis shoes.

We'd been having a difficult week. Monty wasn't doing his work. Despite anything else about Monty, his behavior and willingness to work for me has never been an issue. Until this week. Several times this week, I watched as this little boy looked me furiously in the eye, his body quivering with rage as he refused to do his assignments.

"What" I wondered, "was going on?" This was atypical behavior and I was completely baffled by it. My reply to these standoffs is pretty standard as it has been honed by 18 years of dealing with defiant and raging children.

"I can see that you are very angry at me right now, but you still have to do your work."

And because there really is no reply to that statement, most children, including Monty, finally sit down and begin to work. Quite often it is work that will need to be redone later, but at this time of the interaction, the point is to acknowledge the feelings and then to move beyond them. Feelings are transitory. I know this because at one moment I think Monty will do just fine in third grade and then seconds later, I am positive that he should have never left Kinder.... Transitory. Really, how can a child who cannot tie his own shoes go on to third grade I wondered? Or SHOULD he? But my principal has been adamant about retentions-- and I agree with her. I have retained two boys in my career and neither has done well. So, what's the point of retention? But here I was again, playing mind games with myself-- should he? or shouldn't he be retained? Seriously, would he learn anything more by being retained?
And just who IS responsible for teaching children to tie their shoes?

The meeting with Monty's parent began with an overview of the interventions that were in place for Monty. I spoke briefly of his progress and began to talk about the recent unusual defiance that I was seeing in Monty when his mother interrupted me. She told us how much Monty loved me. She told about how he went home every night and told his family about everything I had done throughout the day. (I'll admit, I cringed when I heard that.) She told me how much I meant to Monty and how much she appreciated all that I have done for him and I knew then, why I had been seeing this defiance.

The next day was a deja vu as Monty stared at me with sparks coming from his eyes. This time though, I didn't use the standard reply that he expected. This time I looked at him and said,

"I will miss you, too. I am going on a short vacation next year, but when I come back, I will come over to your new school and see you. You can tell me about everything that you learned and you can show me around and MAYBE you'll even read me a book. But even though you won't be in this class, I will always love you.... Always... I promise."

He burst into tears and ran into my arms. As I hugged him back and soothed him, I wondered what will happen to this little boy after he leaves my classroom? Who will watch over him and take care of him? Who will give him extra time to complete assignments and who will demand better work from him? Who will listen patiently to a convoluted story and come out at the end with the understanding of what he actually meant to say? And who will help him find his way through a world that has been extremely harsh on a small 8 year-old child? There's so much to do yet. The time I have left with him is not enough time to accomplish everything that needs to be done. It's moments like this that I regret every second that I did not spend cramming all of my students full of all they needed, even though I know they need the laughter and the relaxation as much as they need me getting on them for not working as hard as I know they could. In the end, though, there is never enough time and I whisper prayers throughout the year to angels and anyone else who may be listening, "Let me have done enough for these children. Let them know what they need to know, despite all I have failed to do." And I found myself thinking that it's really not important WHO teaches you to tie your shoes-- it's just important that someone does.