Brooding

In honor of those who teach children with learning disabilities and all their hard work and my own hero; Mr. Morone my high school English teacher


The bell rings and I watch as my new students leave my classroom. None of them return with any questions about the up coming year. I sit at my desk and pick up the pile of folders of each student I have. I decide to start with period 8, my 9th graders. As I flip through their files, one student stands out. Her name is Linda Cooper. She is classified as dyslexic.
Once I get home I walk in and say hello to my wife. My daughter runs up to me and starts talking about her first day of middle school. I say to both of them that I have to read the student's files as my first homework. They both laugh. I walk upstairs to my office and let myself fall onto my chair. My office is right across from the playroom, where I watch my eleven year old daughter draw. I watch my daughter enjoy her painting and she always loves to show me her creations. She has also won many painting contests. She's a true artist. She is also dyslexic.

When my daughter started to learn to read and write, it was very difficult for her. We thought it was a phase, but we took her to a neurologist who told us she was dyslexic. She kept complaining of the sentences dancing and she kept getting words mix up. She also had difficulty in math and never wanted to study. My wife and I grew concerned about our daughter. Everyday she came home angry about how the other kids understood everything and she was always stuck. Later my wife and I hired a tutor and went to special classes to understand her dyslexia. While going to these classes and with help from the tutor, my daughter learned to read and write and slowly became a star student. She also discovered her talent in drawing. She loves art. By the time she was in fourth grade, she won her first painting contest. In fifth grade for almost the whole year she had straight A's and that was when I learned that she had defeated her dyslexia. But not all kids were as lucky as my daughter.
When I was 24 I transferred to work at my old high school as an English teacher. There was this one student who stood out from the rest. Destiny Baker; a 10th grader with dyslexia. Even though, it was about 14 years ago, I still remembered it as if it was yesterday. Destiny discovered her dyslexia in the middle of the school year, around November or December. As a second year teacher, I didn't know what to do. Everyday I thought I did what was right for Destiny, but it wasn't until my daughter had dyslexia that I discovered that what I did was wrong. I often told Destiny, "get out of the can't zone," when in truth she was trying her hardest. I also said, "put your head up," ignoring that putting her head down was a cry for help. "I just went over it," when in truth she listened but the information wasn't in her head. I tried pushing her to her limits, but I think I was pushing her off a cliff blindly. Everyday was a battle for her and when she needed my help, I betrayed her. When she raised her hand, I made her ask her questions in the front of the class, not realizing that her questions maybe embarrassing in front of her classmates.
She struggled on quizzes and tests too. I kept saying, "What's going on? You finished the last one on time." or "What's the deal?" I said those things in front of the whole class; I must have made her sound dumb or something. I must have been putting her on the spot. By how I said those things, it must have been painful for her and I thought I was doing her a favor, but I must have just made it worse. When the class had to do work, she never started right away, she mostly started it and finish at home and all I said was "Come on!"
Why did I say those things? After I found out my daughter had dyslexia, I discovered that they need encouragement and can easily get frustrated and need help. Did I give Destiny any encouragement at all? I made her laughed, but I never encouraged her. By the end of June of 2009, I watched all my students leave as 11th graders and when I saw Destiny leave I thought I did a great thing for her.
But it wasn't until years later that I learned the truth. If I ever saw Destiny again I would say, "I'm sorry kiddo." Now thinking about it I called everyone "kiddo" all the time. Except Destiny, I only called her kiddo twice or three times that year. How did that make her feel when I stopped calling her kiddo and just plain Destiny? Did she feel left out of the class? Did she feel like I gave up on her? Maybe she thought I didn't care at all. She often came by after school, but I didn't spend much time with her. She would come in the next day with her work completed, but not how I wanted it. I should have work with her more. Not just 5min, but maybe 30min. If I worked with her for 30min then she might have came in just about once a week instead of everyday. Not many of my students came in with questions, so it would have worked out just fine. But I didn't work with her; I was young and had other things on my mind. I regret it now. I regret a lot of things. But Destiny is one of them. She was such a bright student and innocent. She didn't like curse words and never really thought about boys, she was more interested in her pens and stacking up books. She had a great creative mind. She was above average in creativity if you ask me. She also loved to write despite her poor handwriting and grammar. But she always made interesting stories and the type that gets you thinking. She was such a great kid and she was so kind too. She never wanted to disappoint anyone or get anyone angry. She never insulted anyone and took a lot of blame for many things. She would be the real definition of innocence if you ask me. But I must have made her crack; I must have made her world fall into millions of pieces. I thought I was doing her good, well I wasn't. I wish I could see her again and call her kiddo. "Hey kiddo,"

"Okay pop quiz," I said. We've been in the new school year for about a month already. I pass out the quizzes around the room. After 15min many of the students start to hand them in. Those who still have the quiz are almost finish, but one. Linda. I promised myself I wouldn't create another Destiny situation. I walk over to Linda and sit at the empty desk next to her. I say in a low voice, so only she can hear me "Do you need help? Are you able to understand? Don't worry, just try your best. Okay kiddo?" Yeah. That is what I should have said to Destiny.