Acceptance

Let me tell you about a student of mine. He told me he didn’t want to go to college, he was the first student who made me tear up and question my purpose in the classroom, he has a smile that warms your heart and more attitude than my pinky finger. He told me he would never be on the “mastery board,” “I already failed Algebra II once, I am going to fail again.” The way he shrieks my name down the hallway used to give me shivers, but now it makes everything seem right.

Today while I was taking him home after he stayed late for tutoring I told him—I could write a book about you, and his response was, "as long as I get all the copy rights."

Last time I took this student home I told him, “you know you were the one student who was the biggest pain for me at the beginning of the year, I asked every single teacher what to do with you because you drove me crazy.” He sheepishly turned to me and said, “and now….,” with a grin. I said, “you still drive me crazy, but you make me proud.”

About two weeks ago he came prancing down the hallway holding an envelope.

Wait—lets backtrack. It is August, and I had all of my students take the math section of  the EOC. The purpose here was two-fold. I wanted them to see their growth, and I needed to know what they understood and where they struggled. When I say this student threw an all out riot about taking the ACT, that might be an understatement. He ended it by bluntly telling me he was not going to college so he did not need to take the test. I felt defeated, and in my first six weeks of teaching I could not fight him on it.

Okay, back to the envelope.

“Ms. Clayton….guess what I have.”

“You’re clear across the hallway, you think I can see that far?”

“A college acceptance letter!”

This would be the point in the story where I literally started screaming and jumping up and down in the middle of the hallway.

“Now, if I knew you were going to do that, I would never have told you.”

I gave him a huge hug, and told him just how proud I was of him. From refusing to take the ACT and telling me he would never pass. To staying after school for tutoring, making the “Mastery Board” more than once, AND getting accepted to college.

I made him pose with his letter while I snapped a quick picture, “Quick! Ms. Clayton! Before anyone sees!” He said urgently—he tried to hide it in his words, but it was easy to see in his wide-grin that he was proud of himself too.

That college ACCEPTANCE letter, and the others that have followed for him, is more than just an entry to college.

That word. Acceptance. That is big for this student, and a lot of my kids.

In this often tit-for-tat culture it is all about protecting your own, keeping your pride—but baby-college is bigger than that.

I can tell my kids every single day that I believe in them. I think this student needed someone to tell him that, and really believe it for him to start to believe in his own abilities. But, the fact that somebody who doesn’t even know them is ACCEPTING THEM they are WANTED, that is it.

For students who are constantly shut out, kicked out, pushed out. They change guardians, change schools, change friends. TO BE ACCEPTED, for who they are, who they have worked to become, that is GREAT.

Today, I got to meet his grandfather. On the drive over, he told me none of his siblings had gone to college, I thought how incredible that he has been able to find intrinsic motivation to create a life for himself. When he saw his grandfather in the driveway and he said, “do you want to meet him?” I jumped at the opportunity.

To shake this man’s hand, and tell him just exactly how wonderful his grandson is—and how much he has to be proud of, and then see a huge smile spread across his face—now that was awesome.