I can see them now. Their body language says it all. In they come to my class –a bit late, feet shuffling, hoods over their heads almost covering their eyes and that sullen look on their faces. Hate school, hate home- disconnected from both looking to others like themselves for emotional support. Some turn to gangs; some escape into MSN, video games or drugs. Ask them a question, they shrug their shoulders. No short term goals; no long term goals. They live in the moment; no thought for the future. No future. They choose outrageously wealthy sports figures or musicians as role models. Something they can never be. There’s no voluntary interaction with adults to learn how to navigate the coming adult world. These are the kids I spend my days with. These are the kids I try to reach. When I do, I’m so grateful.

What can we do to try to help these at risk kids reconnect to family and school? I can only tell you what has worked for me-sometimes. I can only tell you what the kids have told me. Since I am a special education teacher, I get to work with a lot of these kids. Some I teach everyday in my class; others I monitor on a regular basis by meeting with them during their lunch, or when I withdraw them from other classes.

When I first meet them, I work hard to develop a relationship with them. It’s not easy. You might think that students would respect me because I’m a teacher. Not these kids. I find that I have to convince them that I respect them first, before they will respect me. I convince them by being compassionate. I try to understand where they are coming from and not judge them. In an earlier post, Don’t Blame the Lettuce, I touched on this topic. Basically, I try to determine their needs and then try to meet them.


What are their needs? They tell they want someone to listen to them without telling them what to do. They tell me they want an adult to really care about them even when they’re bad. They tell me they want to listen to their MP3 player while working.-it helps them concentrate on their work. They tell me they want to have a bite to eat while they work. They tell me they want to go for a short walk during class because they can’t sit still. They tell me that they want to play Connect Four after they finish their work. They tell me that they’d like one of the lollypops I have in my desk-a green one, please. They tell me they’d like to wear their hat in class because it’s a bad hair day. They tell me they want to talk to me in the hall because their parents just broke up and now they’re living with their mom and four siblings in a hotel. They tell me their cat died last night, and they are really upset and can’t work. They tell me they are hungry because they didn’t eat breakfast or lunch. They tell me…

What do I tell them? I tell them I don’t believe they’re bad, because they are not. I tell them that we all have different strengths that we can use to help us succeed. I tell them being a teenager sucks because people expect you to act like an adult but treat you like a kid. I tell them I hated being a teenage. I tell them I hated grade 10. I tell them to come and see me even when they’re not in my class any longer. I tell them I’ll buy more lollipops when I get paid on Friday. I tell them that I want to help them set realistic goals for the future because if they don’t have realistic goals, they’ll have no future. Basically, I tell them, and I show them that I care.

Comments

2 Responses to “Disconnected From Life”

  1. Alvin on August 26th, 2006 10:33 pm

    Oh my, that sounds tough. I’ve coached a few kids (just a few!), and I know it takes a certain kind of person to connect with them. Somehow kids and teens have an innate way of knowing who’s for real and who’s putting up a front.

    Even though it doesn’t sound easy, it’s very good work you’re doing to help impact these kids’ lives in a positive way, and you have my utmost respect :)

  2. Elona on August 27th, 2006 8:56 am

    Thank you, Alvin. Luckily I have been able to find a way to use my particular mix of multiple intelligences. I find being a teacher of at risk kids the perfect fit, and I tell my students that being their teacher is the best job in the world. Ironically, they tell me that they couldn’t stand the bad behaviour- the very behaviour they exhibit. Go figure!

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