The Power of a Kind Word

Sixth grade is far better than I could have imagined. Their personalities and interests are so developed, they are smart, they are hilarious. But they are cautious in giving their respect. Teaching them is hard. When I first walked into the classroom I wasn't showered with drawings of "I love you." Neither was I bombarded with hugs or any kind of attention. They stole glances at me when they thought I wasn't looking. They whispered about me behind my back. They talked about me at lunch.

But slowly, they are giving me their respect. I've had to earn it, work for it, show them I care... even when they don't seem to care about me.

It started with quiet smiles at a joke. A nod when I gave directions. But now they tell me they like me. That they like when I teach. That things are making sense. And that is better than any hug or cute picture from a kindergartener. It takes more work to win them over, but once they trust you... they come to your defense. They do what you say (for the most part), and they want to learn from you.

For me, sixth grade seems like yesterday. I remember the sixth grade crises. I remember learning the very things I am now teaching. I was always a high-achiever. But now when I teach, I must focus on all my students. I love finding ways to encourage the students falling through the cracks.

The boy who doesn't ever do his work because he's never had anyone make him, and he's never seen the point.

The girl who is too shy to ever volunteer in class, so everyone assumes she doesn't have anything insightful to say.

The boy who gets on everyone's nerves because he's obnoxious and asks silly questions on purpose... or so it seems... until I stop and talk with him, and realize he doesn't even know he's doing it.

The boy who always feels stupid because he's always a step behind everyone else in math...

The English Language Learner who gets confused about vocabulary and misunderstands all of the assignments, making him look incapable of doing quality work.

The student who lays his head down on his desk and doesn't pay attention in math. He seems stubborn. Until you realize how rough home is for him. Of course he can't focus on finding areas of triangles when he's worrying about a sibling's court date.

I'm learning the power of a kind word. Of stopping to listen -- to understand before jumping to conclusions. To put actions with my talk... to show them I care. To offer grace, coupled with high expectations, that makes them want to achieve. I know it isn't up to me to change their lives forever. I know so much depends on them. But I hope that they get a glimpse of the possibilities. And that most of all, they know there is someone fighting for them, caring about them, and cheering for them to succeed.