Drawing the line

It is gratifying to see your students succeed.

I can still see the huge smile and light shining through Donald Prokopovich’s eyes when he completed reading his first short story. He was in Grade 5 and at the beginning of the year could barely read.

This had little to do with me. I owe my thanks to Emma Rand, our Learning Assistance teacher. She found some high-interest, low-vocabulary hockey books.

Donald just ate them up. He ran up to me on a Monday morning in late March and gave me the news – right in front of his friends.

He beamed, and I felt wonderful.

Then, there was Gary Mills, a tiny boy for Grade 5 with longish, blond hair. Typically, he always looked down so that his hair covered his eyes. He barely spoke and did very little school work.

It worried me a lot that I couldn’t get through to him.

One day in Social Studies, I asked the class to hand in their maps of Canada. Everyone did except Gary.

I asked, “Gary, where’s your map?”

He looked down.

Teresa Williams, who sometimes seemed like Gary’s lawyer, spoke for him.

“Gary hasn’t finished his map.”

I played along. “Please tell your client he’d better get it in by tomorrow.”

Gary looked up and smiled. A small explosion of joy shot through me. Perhaps humour will work with Gary.

The following morning, I stood and studied my class. I’d had a great time marking my students’ maps the previous evening, and I was excited to give them back even though my stomach was churning about what to do with Gary.

The thought entered my mind that this “nice” and supportive approach wasn’t working.

I turned my attention to Gary. “Gary. Do you have your map?”

His lawyer began to speak. “Sh-sh… Let Gary speak for himself.”

Irepeated, “Gary, Where is your map?”

He looked up at me under his hair. “I don’t have it.”

“When will you hand it in?”

“Tomorrow, I guess.”

“I guess? Look around yourself, Gary. Everyone has handed in their map except you, and I’ve already marked them. I know you can do it. When will you hand it in?”

“Tomorrow, I guess.” The class broke into laughter. My heart sank a little.

“Stop!” The class froze.

With feigned calmness, I heard myself say, “Gary, do not come back to school tomorrow unless you have completed your map.”

The class hushed. His lawyer piped up, “You can’t do that, Mr. Knight.”

I stared at Teresa for a moment. I looked back at Gary. “Do not come back to school tomorrow unless you have completed your map.”

I really couldn’t believe what I was saying.

The truth is Gary’s lawyer’s comments got me a little worried because I had a pretty good idea she was right. But I persevered. I looked over at Gary. “Do you understand, Gary?” A slight nod.

The next morning at 9:20 a.m., we were doing math. There was a loud knock at my door. Instantly, my gaze shot over to Gary’s vacant desk.

Then, all of yesterday’s events came cascading down upon me. I knew this knock had something to do with Gary.

I trembled.

Another loud knock. Sheepishly, I moved toward the door and opened it, slowly. The first thing I saw was Gary holding some books.

As I opened it wider, there was Gary’s father, Tony Mills, standing firmly and looking very big. Mr. Mills was the manager of one of the local banks. He was quite important and a "pillar" of the community.

I thought, “This is it. I’m toast.” Just as I was going to blither out an apology, Tony Mills extended his right hand.

I took it, and he shook my whole body vigorously as he said, “Thank you! Thank you, Mr. Knight! No one has ever done anything like this before. We have tried everything with Gary and nothing has worked. Finally, someone drew the line for him.”

I said something unintelligible like, “Well, I, uh… uh…”

“We’ve been working since 6 a.m. on his map. We hope it’s acceptable.”

He motioned for Gary to go into the class. Gary slid his map out of his books and gave it to me proudly as he walked by. 

Mr. Mills said a quick good-bye to me and was on his way.

I drifted into the class, not really aware of what had just happened. I looked at Gary’s map. It looked pretty good. I looked over at Gary. His head was up and he was smiling.

I beamed. 

This article is written by or on behalf of an outsourced columnist and does not necessarily reflect the views of Castanet.