Some of the students, though, were too beaten down by their own previous failures to try very hard. Some students had such developed avoidance tactics, that they rarely had to struggle with text. Some were just plain hard to deal with. A few, in my honest and deflated moments, I thought were virtually doomed. I thought the world would eventually just swallow them up.
Voungtha Sy topped that list. Voungtha did some crazy things in my classroom to avoid work. One day, I asked him to leave the classroom, but he refused. As I walked towards him, he would run. He even hopped a few rows to stay away and incite a game of chase. His classmates were thrilled. For a moment, he was a star. He just laughed when I called security to come get him. Voungtha appeared completely apathetic. I wanted to get to the bottom of the "why."
Being an ambitious, driven, concerned young teacher, I drove to his home for an official home visit. Perhaps I would discover new ways to reach this struggling student of mine. What I discovered, was less help and more empathy. His grandmother lay in the one bedroom apartment, on a hospital bed, adjacent the living room window. She we hurting and in her last days. Father was angry with his son but lacked the English skills to communicate real concerns or explanation for his sons behavior. In Cambodian, he screamed at Voungtha, in my presence. Voungtha's smirk from class was a world away.
"Where would he do his homework even if he wanted to?" I thought.
"Please encourage Voungtha to try hard in my class," I said.
"What will become of this kid?" I wondered.
"His future is dim." I projected.
***********************************************
It's official now: the world did not swallow Voungtha Sy up.
In fact, when my DSL installation technician arrived at my doorstep, he looked strikingly familiar. Within moments, I placed him. And for the next half hour, I questioned and praised him.
He made it.
Voungtha lives down the block for me and supports a family, including two young kids. He works hard during the day and counts it a privilege to have a job. Many of his friends don't. He finished school on time (somehow) after being kicked out of Hoover in two separate years.
He beat the odds.
That visit was good for my soul.
It reminded me that a) Growth and maturation is a process, often over years and years. b) I am no savior. I couldn't even keep him in class. c) Moments of grace like these, are a gift. I am savoring it even now.
