*Picture yourself through the eyes of a student….not that one…the one that you can’t stand, what d

J

Lord why this classroom? Not again! I didn’t sign up for this! Lord knows I hate working with upper grades. These were the thoughts fluttering through my mind, as I was told, I was reassigned to another classroom from the one I had chosen. (I am a substitute teacher). As I slowly walked through the door, feeling deflated, I heard groans, hissing you name it. Then there across the room, our eyes made four, two of which began to roll. Lord please let the day go by very fast, I don’t want to be here. It appeared both of us were thinking the same thing. J is a fifth grader, who likes to push the limits with substitute teachers. As I looked at her, her body language and facial expression were all sending the message, “why don’t you just die already”? On our first encounter, J was very boisterous and disruptive. Despite several warnings, J refused to curtail her behavior and as a result ended up being punished by the dean. J was used to having the entire class on her side, but this particular day, J had to stand alone, as no one dared run the risk of having their parents called or suffer the consequence of in-school suspension. This particular day, I said a prayer, and decided to start the day differently. I asked the question “why are you here?” Little by little, hands were raised and responses were given. The conversation led to students sharing family stories and their parents’ expectations. I then asked the question “why do you think I’m here?” After many responses as to why they think I was there, I got the opportunity to share a little about me and my culture. J sat quietly in her corner, very attentive to the conversation, but dared not participate. At the end of our little chat, every one, sat quietly, focusing on their math problems. J sat quietly in her spot and to my surprise, began working on her math problems. Pulling a chair close by, I sat quietly beside her as she gleamed at me from the corner of her eyes. I couldn’t help but noticed, the wrong concept was being used to solve the problems. Breaking the ice, I asked if she understood what she was doing. In a low sweet tone, J said “no miss”. I explained where she went wrong in solving each problem. Then J began sharing a little about herself as I sat and listened. I discovered she is a foster child, who misses and loves her mom dearly. At the end of class, I heard, “thank you Mrs. Smith. Have a good evening.” My heart cried. On subsequent visits, J is passed in the hallway with a wide grin saying Hi, Mrs. Smith. The eyes of her heart had changed because of one question “why are you here?” The once despised substitute teacher is now J’s favorite.

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