The Reluctant Student

 She is a force to be reckoned with.  She transferred into my class two months after the start of the year , but had no fear. She has a quick tongue and wants nothing more than to let it be known that she is in the room. Unlike the other girls who wear cropped tops or tees that are twisted into a knot in the back to show their waists or shirts that cut wide at the neck to bare their shoulders, she wears long skirts to her ankles and hoodies that hide everything else.  A clear sign that some type of ultra strict religion is involved. I noticed her body turned slightly away from my book display at Halloween where I placed books about the Day of the Dead and Day of the Dead Barbie dolls from my exclusive Barbie doll collection. I removed them and then went further to remove my Harry Potter Collection. She never said they bothered her, but when I pointed out that I sensed her discomfort and had moved them, she grabbed me and gave me the biggest hug.  

My student does not get get grades. Other teachers thought she was a struggling student. I sensed otherwise. She doesn't like to do the work, so she doesn't. It has become a battle of wills. When asked why she doesn't, she says she has to take care of  her four siblings until her mother gets home. When I threatened to email parents of those who had not done their work, she goaded me." Go ahead, she won't answer. She never reads it anyway." She was right. 

I tell her I don't care, I am going to stay on her and not let her fail, and she smiles. But she still did not write the essay.

Every question is answered with negativity. When I ask how was your weekend, or day, or evening, she always says, "Terrible." When I create a silly morning question of the day about which is better, Adidas or Nike, she quips, "Neither, they are an overpriced waste of money."  No matter the discussion, she shouts out the loudest most pessimistic phrase she can muster.

For spring break she complained because her family was going to Peru and that it was going to be horrible while I tried to engage her in conversations about seeing her grandmother to no avail.  

Upon their return from spring break, I circulated around the room to ask my other students how they spent their weekend. She actually said the first positive thing ever. She said it was better than she expected. And when I finally had spoken to every child and returned to my desk, I couldn't believe what I found. I looked up and across the room at her and saw her looking at me side-eyed with a sly little smile on her face.  There in the center, sat the most beautiful hand painted mug from Peru.