Writer * Worldbuilder * Life Coach
Posted on February 21, 2024 by Roffino
I didn’t hear it often, but when I did, it broke me a little: this giant of a middle schooler was crying, overcome with rage and worry.
He had been acting out, as usual, earlier that day in a different class period.
Juan, we’ll call him, was a kind, giggly, and often focused kid who, unlike the other 6th graders matched my height at an inch or two shy of six feet. Juan was in a dramatic and somewhat traumatic 6th grade math class (named Renssaler Polytechnic Institute in the tradition of the school after colleges that our students could aspire to), and he’d been unusually quiet before he had heard official news.
I pulled him out of the classroom, and there in the hallway, just the two of us, he finally told me what he’d learned: He was going to be heading to the principal’s office and would likely be expelled.
Juan’s life story was more complex than average, but some of my students who struggled didn’t even have parents; some were homeless, living on a dirt floor in the shed of a relative; some had parents who were so erratic and explosive, that school was where they felt like their lives actually happened while at home they simply tiptoed around and held their breaths until 7am the next schoolday. One had a parent arrested in front of him. Another had a family member die violently. Some were simply one of many siblings in a loving family that didn’t have enough time for everybody.
The strugglers were also often kids that didn’t have the means to get swept up in a capitalistic culture that prioritized the next toy, video game, or shoe. They had family, and school, and the hope for better down the road. They dreamed of college, every day. (Other students, fortunately, had all they needed.)
Juan cried a lot that day in the hallway. For a minute or so. And then he sniffed, nodded his head a few times, and said he was going to be alright. He told me it would be easier to get his RPI class to practice probabilities without him making jokes anyways (always thinking of others, that one). I told him he was right, but that he’d be taking us with him if he went.
I think about that class, that school, and those kids frequently. Wondering, hoping. Even the ones that got away. Hopefully, they still made their way.
Enter the Circle
Watching the news this weekend, I saw an unusual mental health aid from a teacher, and I’ve been thinking about it all week.
She has her students do a sort of CIRCLE GROUP where they can talk about how they are feeling and support each other.
I know, I know, not every teacher or every school would do this right, with kindness, respect, trust, and clear expectations, but what if some COULD? Watch it HERE and see what you think. Then hit REPLY and tell us.
I think about Juan when I see this and wonder how things might have been different if he could talk about his feelings and name them rather than act them.
I hope he’s okay. Actually, no, I hope he’s golden – manager at a Tesla plant, starting his own side-gig, buying mama a mansion in the hills, land tours through the Sahara, helping giants land some cool projects and making reality of people’s dreams. I hope his head is in a place to allow him to achieve it all.
Category: "Conversations", Positivity & Hope, Roffino-Related
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