Frustration mounted. Tears welled up in his eyes. I suddenly felt my heart melt.
"If only I could crawl into this kid's head...discover the inner workings of his brain," I've often thought. The first month or two of school, he moped about, offering up nothing in class, emitting miserable vibes from his seat. I didn't know what to do, although I've dealt with this before in more than one of my beginners. He longed for his home, his friends, familiarity. But it's always hard to break through that barrier, to establish a comfort in a world that seems to be crumbling down on them. Over the past several months, I have learned to reach this kid. He has made friends in our class, he seems happier, and his personality has really come out. One day while we were joking around in class, the kids said, "No more school...EVER!" and in the sweetest softest voice, came "But I will miss you, Mrs. Gongora." Never thought I would hear that come out of his mouth especially! I had never seen a softer side of him until then, and then I realized that this class, this room, is safe for him. And again today, there it was again. The frustration that I thought had subsided suddenly arose when prodded to write...about social studies....American social studies....
What if someone dropped me in China, everything around me unfamililar and uncomfortable? How in the world would I ever be able to write...about history...Chinese history...??? But that is what these kids are faced with every day. Unrealistic expectations. Difficult tasks. Frustration. They want to learn...but how hard it must be. It's at this phase in their journey that I want to communicate with them the most, but it's difficult. I have to be more observant, more intuitive, and even then, I often don't really know what's going on in their heads. In this way, I learn just as much as they do. And that's why I love what I do.
"If only I could crawl into this kid's head...discover the inner workings of his brain," I've often thought. The first month or two of school, he moped about, offering up nothing in class, emitting miserable vibes from his seat. I didn't know what to do, although I've dealt with this before in more than one of my beginners. He longed for his home, his friends, familiarity. But it's always hard to break through that barrier, to establish a comfort in a world that seems to be crumbling down on them. Over the past several months, I have learned to reach this kid. He has made friends in our class, he seems happier, and his personality has really come out. One day while we were joking around in class, the kids said, "No more school...EVER!" and in the sweetest softest voice, came "But I will miss you, Mrs. Gongora." Never thought I would hear that come out of his mouth especially! I had never seen a softer side of him until then, and then I realized that this class, this room, is safe for him. And again today, there it was again. The frustration that I thought had subsided suddenly arose when prodded to write...about social studies....American social studies....
What if someone dropped me in China, everything around me unfamililar and uncomfortable? How in the world would I ever be able to write...about history...Chinese history...??? But that is what these kids are faced with every day. Unrealistic expectations. Difficult tasks. Frustration. They want to learn...but how hard it must be. It's at this phase in their journey that I want to communicate with them the most, but it's difficult. I have to be more observant, more intuitive, and even then, I often don't really know what's going on in their heads. In this way, I learn just as much as they do. And that's why I love what I do.
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