“Sy, I finished the book.”

It was his longest sentence of the year.

He has not shared once during Smiles and Frowns. He barely mumbles, “pass,” as it comes to him.

When he comes to school, he hides in his hood, head down, reluctantly–grudgingly–putting his device away when I ask him.

I have had “him” every year of my twenty three. He is none of them but all of them at once. He loves neither school nor me. He doesn’t get “it.” And it doesn’t get him. But I want to get him. And I try every year, and while I am not going to suggest that I get far with everyone of him, I always get less-far by year’s end. But thirty-three days in, I was beginning to fear that I would not even get less-far this year. And a little over a week ago, I thought I had ruined my chances for good.

In my “regular” (hate that name, but it’s functional) LA 10 classes, we tried something different with Night this year. We took kind of a glorified jigsaw approach, breaking the book into six parts, splitting the class into six teams, assigning a part to each team, and hoping to put it all back together again with our storyboard project.

Into six teams. That was my first mistake. He had to join a different group, sit in a different part of the room–he had to get out of his less -uncomfortable zone. And in a pivotal moment, I wasn’t sure he was going to move. We played quiet game of chicken, and at the last minute he swerved to his new desk.

Got worse from there. Didn’t/wouldn’t look at his teammates. Didn’t even say pass during Smiles and Frowns; he just shook his head. And then he was gone for a few days. Wondered, earnestly, if I might not see him again. I had messed up. Didn’t mean to, but I did.

A few days later, after his peers had moved from reading to making their storyboards, he showed up. He didn’t engage his team, but he did grab a copy of the book off the table, and he went back to his group, sat down and opened the book. I thought he was seeking to disappear, to hide in the book. I didn’t suspect he was reading it. Fearing I had already pushed too far, I left him alone. But he was turning pages.

The next day, he did the same thing. And I started to believe that he was actually reading. I had not seen his device out for two days, and he was advancing in the book. He was still ignoring his team, but he was reading. He was reading. I asked him about.

“You reading the book, Shane (name changed)?”

“Mmm.”

“You know you don’t have to read the whole book.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Okay.”

Monday, at the end of class, I noticed he was nearly done.

“You’re gonna finish.”

“Yep. Page 96.” Maybe a hint of a satisfied smile.

“Awesome.” I smiled back.

Yesterday, ten minutes into the work, he finished.

He took off his hood (no kidding) and shared aloud,
“Sy, I finished the book.”

I don’t know what surprised me more.

He finished the book. Didn’t have to.

He took off his hood. Never had.

He said my name. He said my name.

That likely sounds silly, but it was a visceral moment for me. I didn’t just hear it. I felt it. Not sure I can explain it.

The surprises continued, as he sat back down and started contributing to his team’s work. It was a beautiful moment. It really was. My best moment of the year so far, a moment that happened not because of the control that I exerted upon it, but rather the control that I let go. He certainly was NOT doing what he was supposed to be doing. He was being passively rude to his team. And while I wanted to “correct” the situation (and a younger Syrie would have), I let it go. I trusted my instincts. Not the first time. Won’t be the last. But more often than not–though they are not infallible–they point the way. And, in this particular instance, they brought him less-far away.

In the end, he is still farther away than I’d like, but I feel that we finally made a connection. And now I will do what I can for my “him” this year. All I can do.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…wrap up our storyboard projects.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Wednesday, all. Gonna be out the next few days. Heading to Tennessee for a wedding. Won’t post again until next Tuesday. Thank you for all your support. Always. Couldn’t do it without you.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.