I    Have    Been    on    a    long    journeY    Developing    a   reaDing    APP   To    suPPorT    DYslexic    reaDers.     ReallY,    it     starteD     in    mY    earlY cHilDHooD.    As    THe    elDesT    daugHTer    and    THe    FirsT    cHilD    oF    a long    line    oF    TeacHers    and    PreacHers,    I    was    given    responsiBiliTY   To    care   For    and    TeacH    mY    sYBlings    BY    THe    Time    I    was    6. THose    resPonsiBiliTies,    I    now    look    aT    as    giFTs    THaT    woulD   guiDe    mY    liFe,    HelP    me    weaTHer    THe    Hurricanes,    anD    nurture mY sPiriT.      ToDaY     I    wiTness    in    a     concreTe    Form    THe    reTurning    oF THose    giFTs   To    THose   wHo    Have    TaugHT    me.    You    can    exPerience Those     giFTs    and   Follow    THe     journeY.

Maybe it Started Here

        Back in the olden days, as my children used to refer to that time, when I took my first teaching position, I remember sitting in the teachers’ lounge on the first day feeling like a privileged 8th Grader who was being treated to “lunch with the teachers.”  This small elementary school located in an agricultural community in Northern California also served an Indian Reservation and both communities were impacted by events in the national and local economy and both were fodder for the Teachers’ Lounge conversation.

            As a young and new teacher, I just listened to the discussions of national and local education politics, to the sharing of ideas for bulletin boards, and to the concerns about particular children, several of whom had tainted school histories that preceded them.  In fact, one teacher greeted me with, “Oh, you have Charlie Williams in your class.  Lucky you!” rolled her eyes, then turned and looked knowingly at the other teachers and commented, “What a bully!” 

Feeling more like a student than a teacher that day, I made a

mental note that went something like this, “I am going to like Charlie Williams, no matter what!  And I’m going to change how teachers look at him!” In spirit, I was with the students that day, not the teachers.

            In the first week of teaching, I discovered 3 important facts about Charlie Williams.  First, I discovered how he felt about himself as a learner and how he handled what he believed.  I had given my class of 3rd and 4th Graders the assignment to write about something “scary.” After half an hour, the students handed in their papers with varying amounts of writing, from a word or two to a page.  Charlie Williams handed in a blank piece of paper with his name and a very large red F on it. That F shouted, “You can’t shame me!!  I’ve already done it to myself!” I remembered my mental promise to change how the teachers looked at Charlie. The only thing I could think of was to put another leg on the F, so it looked like an A.  I wrote a note alongside the A that said, “Charlie, you get an A for being so clever!”  He couldn’t read the note, but he recognized the A.

            The second fact I learned about Charlie was how he got the “bully” label. Because I was the new teacher, I was given the early morning yard duty every day. Children who were bused in from distant ranches and the reservation arrived quite early and Charlie was one of those children. On the third day of school, while watching the yard at 7:30 am, I saw a 2nd Grade boy take a ball away from a small 1st Grader who was playing by himself.  When the 1st  Grader asked for his ball, the 2nd Grader pushed him down.  The 1st Grader started to cry.  Charlie Williams was standing against the fence nearby.  We both saw the exchange.   Before I could act, Charlie went into action.  He bounded over and punched the 2nd Grader’s jaw, took the ball and gave it back to the 1st Grader.  The 2nd Grader came crying to me saying, “Charlie Williams punched me!” Now I had two crying children and Charlie Williams was back leaning against the fence. I saw what had not been seen.  Charlie wasn’t a rogue bear roaming the halls and schoolyard randomly attacking the unsuspecting; he was a burly 9 year old who had a heightened sense of justice.  A concept I could work with.

            I learned the third fact about Charlie when I tried to speak to him about punching the 2nd Grader.  Charlie stood in absolute silence while I spoke to him.  He gave no verbal feed-back, did not make eye contact with me nor did he indicate that he had heard what I said.   He was silent and stoic as I told him he could not punch children.  I was looking for some kind of response, a gesture that would let me know he had heard me and had grasped that I, not he, was in charge, but he gave me nothing.   After my declaration to myself, sending him to the Principal was not a possibility. So in the end, I had to be content with the fact that he had heard me, and let it go.   And, of course he heard me, as he had heard all the others admonishing him before me.

            What I learned that week informed how I worked with Charlie that year.  By organizing a series of activities that allowed Charlie to be not only successful, but also, at times,  the class star, he became a participating member of the class, and I was able to lighten a little the way in which he was perceived by other teachers. In my classroom, he was a self-appointed Sergeant-at-Arms.  He had an uncanny ability to know when my students were about to drive me over the wall with their rambunctious 9 and 10 year old behaviors.  He commanded attention, stood on his chair and said, “You guys shut up! Ms. Henery is frustrated!”  And they listened to him and quieted down.  I never saw him put a hand on another child unless it was to defend a smaller or younger student or sometimes to defend himself.  I learned to trust my first intuition which was to deliver my messages to him quickly, in a straight forward manner and then to move on.  He had ears!  But in the end, he didn’t learn to read or write much.