My best stories from my first year at Kauffman are about K. I remember the first day I met him: he was running in fitness. No worries, he was supposed to be. They were playing a game called "Hill Bill" and learning about teamwork. He was the fastest at running and tagging in his cohort (named for Wake Forest University, the "difficult" cohort that year). I remember his face seemed much older than any 10 year old boy's face should be and that he was silent. I assumed that was him: quiet and athletic. My favorite combination in black boys. Usually they are also sweet and soulful and artistic. He reminded me strikingly of my brother as I never knew him.
I few weeks later I met another version of K. Same child, different person. This person was sneakily rolling tennis balls (they are on the bottom of the desks to keep them from scratching the floor) across the classroom, making beeping noises during instruction, and twisting his face away if you spoke directly to him. This would be the K I knew best. A student whose guardians gave him medication to put him to sleep rather than at the time it was prescribed - before school. The child who made me believe that medication really does help some students, and made me terrified of how different he was with and without it.The one who was found at least once a week tagging behind our dean in the halls because he was causing major disruption in class.
I loved him unceasingly.
My stories about K are oft told and retold. The best calls over the walkie-talkies were about him. The cleverest remarks came from him and the most frustrating conversations were with him. And last Friday was his last day at our school. I'll probably never see him again. I have no idea if he has been at a school this week. I've hoped in the back of my mind that his family would change their mind and re-enroll him... but I know that's not how our school works and not often how people work - how rarely we admit missteps.
Last week I started singing a song, "How do you solve a problem like K?" I'm afraid the answer is simple. Time. and love. I had one and won't have the other. I think about some of our other kids that are really difficult and what I know is that they have someone fighting for them, someone who loved them and fought for the time to help them. I'm not sure who was fighting for K. It probably should have been me. We always say that we're lucky to have our kids until their high school graduation... but the truth is, too many of them we won't have. And I don't trust other teachers or schools to take care of our kids and to teach our kids. That may sound really unfair.... but Kansas City schools do not have a track record good enough for K. K is brilliant - it's clear from his brand of misbehavior. It was always clever and demonstrated critical thinking skills. It was also the kind of behavior that 1) gets a kid referred into the sometimes hopelessness of special education and 2) leads adults to teach kids by their words and actions that they cannot be successful. K is so much more than a problem to solve or get rid of. Each of our kids are.
So this week I've been looking for my new K. I think I found him. I know I've found the conviction to be a fighter for him. I just pray that in another building somewhere, a teacher better than me is seeing the brilliant, soulful, sometimes silent student that I love and taking the time to figure out what he needs.
with love.
