#7

You know how they say kids slip through the cracks in public education? It seemed like everyone in 7's past had gotten together one day, taken jackhammers and pick axes, created a giant crack, and pushed 7 right into it. 7 had been held back in kindergarten. No major improvements were made. Something seems a little strange, right? Nah, let's just widen the crack a little. 7 was suggested for testing in second grade. But mom wants to "wait and see." And the crack gets wider. Everyone who sees the mother's comments decide that she is armed and dangerous and ready for a fight with anyone who dares to bring up the idea of testing again. Now 7 is peering down into the depths of the crack wondering if this was made especially for him. He gets assigned to a new teacher in fourth grade who lets him lay his head on his desk half the day and wouldn't know what to look for or how to start the process of testing. He gets moved on to fifth grade and is hanging by two fingers looking down into the oblivion of school hatred that can only end when the final MCAS is failed and the option to drop out becomes apparent.

I am no miracle worker. I don't mean to say that I came along and saved the day. I just looked at those three words and saw them as something less than a call to arms. So we tested. And he turned out to be functioning lower than any other kid in the fifth grade. Especially in math. Poor 7 now had to deal with sitting in his new math class with this outfit of outcasts that he had known his whole life to be the lowest of the low. And now they were understanding concepts that he could not get his mind around. It was rough at first, but 7 got used to his surroundings and even gained some confidence. It always amazed me that 7 maintained such a good attitude despite always feeling like he was in over his head. I will miss his sly, sometimes sneaky smile and his desire to do well and be praised. Oh and his perfectly feathered shoulder-length blond hair.

Every so often I would come back to my desk to find a drawing that 7 had made and secretly deposited. Some were signed by the whole class and some by just 7. All had horrible spelling errors but all found their way to the side of my desk or the closet. Except the one that was wishing me Happy Birthday in late May. But the one he had made me on my actual birthday was there, taped up proudly to give 7 back the same respect he showed and the praise he had figured out his own way to get.