Benoit's in my remedial class - and how. Every so often I read a student essay that makes me ask, silently or out loud, "How is it that this student was admitted to an English college? What can possibly be done for him here? How in the name of God is he ever going to get through?" My reaction to Ben's first writing assignment was much like that.
Now, I think I know why Ben was admitted. He's an athlete, a basketball player, and it wouldn't be the first time such an athlete was admitted without the academic skills he needs. Just a couple of semesters ago I worked with just such an athlete. And then worked with him again the following semester. In the same course. But he did finally get through. He got through because he really, really wanted to, and he knew that when he didn't understand, when he couldn't do the work or correct his own errors, he needed to get help. He was also a sweet and even-tempered boy that everyone wanted to help, including his classmates, all the tutors in the Learning Centre, all his teachers, and his coach.
Ben is not like this. Ben spends every class sighing loudly, thumping his desk in frustration, and asking belligerent, accusatory questions: "But why can't I say X? You mean I can't ever say X? But what about when I want to talk about Y?" "I don't get it. I just don't get it." More sighs.
Today I returned their first practice essay. Ben failed it very badly. They need to use this practice essay as the first draft for their first major assignment. Ben sat slumped in his chair until the time came for them to use their practice essay to create an outline. Then he stuck his hand in the air. When I came to his seat, he said, "I don't get it. I don't get why you underlined all these things. And this...," he turned to the rubric attached to his essay and flicked his fingers at it, "I don't understand how you corrected this."
Now, I have to be honest. Ben has been complaining, sulking and accusing since the beginning of the course. I try to be patient, but he annoys me. It's not that I don't understand. I know that he's acting out because he's frustrated, because he really is having serious difficulties and he doesn't have the tools (academic, emotional or psychological) to deal with his difficulties. But he's very unpleasant. He whines. A lot. Anyone who has had to deal with a 17-year-old who behaves like a small child knows what I'm talking about here.
Today, I had 21 other students waiting to talk to me, 21 students who were also struggling but who were doing their best. They were all diligently creating outlines, looking over their rubrics, and trying to identify the main themes in the narratives they had written. And here was Ben, slumped on his desk, barking, "I don't get it. I don't see any errors. I don't get it."
So I snapped. Mildly, but audibly. "Ben," I said, "first of all, your goal today is to create this outline. When it comes to your language errors, you need to work on them on your own, and you can come see me when you've made an attempt to correct some of them. But today, please make an effort to find the main points in your story and identify them on this worksheet. If you want to talk about other things, wait until the others have gone and we'll discuss them then."
So when I'd worked my way through the rest of the class, and Ben remained in his seat, folded against the wall, his expression poisonous, I made my way back to him. "Now," I said, "my sense is that you are frustrated. I understand this."
"But I don't even get why you underlined these things," he screeched. "You put this mark there, to show a missing word, and I don't even understand what word is missing."
"Of course you don't understand," I said. "If you understood, you would have put the correct word there in the first place. The fact that you don't understand is the first step. Now you need to start, piece by piece, with what you DO understand. You need to fix what you can fix before you start complaining about what you can't fix. You need to take this one piece at a time, not just look at it and say 'I don't understand, so I give up.'"
"But that's not the case! I understand some things. I know why some are wrong."
"Then begin with fixing some of the ones you know how to fix."
"Like, this here. What's wrong with this? 'He is the best player on the team.'"
"Are you writing about right now? Is it the team you're on right now?"
"No."
"It's in the past?"
"Yeah. So how do I fix it?"
"What is the past form of 'he is'?"
"He was? 'He was the best player'? You mean my whole story has to be in the past? Even the details?"
"Of course it does." Ben sighed and thumped his paper onto his desk. "This is the kind of question you need to be asking me, Ben, instead of just saying, 'I don't get it, I don't get it.' I think it would be a very good idea for you to take your essay to the Learning Centre and get yourself a tutor. Do you have any interest or motivation to do that?"
His face was dark and sour. He said nothing. He crossed his arms against his chest and leaned against the wall. A minute passed. Then he said, "Whatever."
"Do you have any interest or motivation to do that?" I repeated.
He shook his head.
"Well, that is the kind of help you are going to need. In the meantime, you need to work on what you can fix in this, decide what questions you want to ask me, and come see me next week before you hand this in."
Ben folded his papers together, gathered up his books, and stalked out of the room.
I mean, what's a teacher to do?
I'm not under the illusion that I handled this properly. I was tired and peeved, and unable to summon up any compassion for this clearly troubled young man. But surely anyone would be tired and peeved in the face of this? Is there something (other than some sitting meditation and a few glasses of Scotch) that I can do to soothe my jangled nerves and help this boy? Because I'm telling you, right now I'm having some seriously unteacherly thoughts about what sort of correction he needs.


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"they may come back to him when he needs them, or is ready to hear them."
This is an important reminder; thank you. Sometimes we forget that what happens in our classroom isn't only about right now.
God bless you. teaching is so trying sometimes...
In my experience the Montreal French school system is eons behind the English school system in getting these things diagnosed (mostly because they just don't have the french language technology yet to help them. ) If he were just a spoilt brat, I'm not sure you'd be feeling this guilty. But sometimes just because someone is a spoilt brat, doesn't mean there isn't a legitimate problem.
Can you talk to somebody in the athletics department? Warn them that he's going to fail. They want him, so ultimately he is their problem. And they've probably seen this kind of thing before.
If he's not willing or able yet to think clearly about what's wrong instead of just being frustrated that something IS wrong, then I'm not sure there's much you can do to help him.
Owl is wise; I love her point about those steps being important in life as well as writing.
I have a step-son very much like this young man. He did not get the grades in high school for an athletic scholarship and also did not get the grades in community college. But he ultimately played college and professional basketball (in Europe) and, more importantly, earned an MA degree. (With him, his academic performance went up dramatically when the costs for tuition, books, etc. came out of his pocket rather than via a scholarship).
Hey thanks. I'm on a diet, so I'll probably do the meditation before the Scotch (although I did down an apricot beer as soon as I walked in the door yesterday...)
I jealously guard this blog from student eyes (mostly because I don't want them to recognize each other) but I do sometimes wish they knew the agony I express here...and then wonder whether in the end they would really care. A teacher's reality is so far removed from a student's life that I feel there would be little response, but you never know.
I feel there's no doubt that he really doesn't get it, and the learning disability explanation occurred to me too. The difficulty is that when a student is angry and defensive, bringing up the possibility of a learning disability becomes even more difficult than it is under other circumstances. And I'm not a clinician, so I'm certainly not qualified to diagnose him. But yes, I think it's a possibility.
As both you and Walter point out, drawing connections between his life as an athlete and his life in the classroom is essential. The athletics department generally sends around forms asking teachers to keep them updated on their students' progress. I haven't received one for him yet, but when I do, there will definitely be some discussion of what needs to be done for him.
Yes, part of what's so heartbreaking is that you just know that this type of approach is having a big effect on the rest of his life. And you have to wonder where it's rooted. Is it just the frustration? Or has he had past experiences that have made him think that this is the best way to deal with his problems? Most people figure out long before now that sulking doesn't solve anything, but I've known people like him and it's usually turned out that their mommy and daddy did them no favours.
I had an AP Physics Professor do this for me - he spoke with me when I was making up a test (after much school skipping). It was a general talk...he knew what I was up to and what I was capable of. I didn't turn it full around...but I hung on. Knowing he cared made a huge difference. You don't realize the power you hold. Hang in there!!! Blessing to you for your life's work.
When students have the issues you describe I make them go to the Writing Center. If they have to wait for an appointment to work with a tutor to get the work done I grant an extension. They have to turn in the work with documentation from the Writing Center.
I do help during office hours but can't spend the time with a student that a tutor can. He may have undiagnosed learning disabilities. You may be the first teacher not to pass him on due to his athletic abilities. That is good for him but he does not know it yet. If he is having to practice for a sport or games now he may be cranky due to fatigue. For example, when I taught at University of Miami the football players ran three miles in the heat before breakfast and then had their first classes at 9 a.m.
I give students with such low skills a ridiculously detailed rubric with steps like "avoid the indirect you." I then make them circle every "you" in the paper and either change it to I or a noun. I make them underline every pronoun and then they have to check to see if there is a noun in the sentence or the sentence before the pronoun for the noun to replace. I ask them to highlight all verbs to determine if they are consistent with tense. That alone takes an hour of class time for the first essay but the second set of papers are better.
However, I'd like to throw out a suggestion that's a slight variation on others.
The connection between sports and your class could be more on the "practice-schedule" side of things. Perhaps it would be helpful to try showing correlations between, say, practicing lay-ups (or better yet, finger-rolls) and writing the paper. For example, very few gifted athletes are gifted in ALL aspects of the game. Most have an area they have to refine in order to improve. This usually involves seeing examples of how the shot / pass, etc. is supposed to be executed, and (often with a coach or peer) diagnosing what technical skills are not present in the athlete.
So, Benoit would probably have tried approaching the basket from dead-on, from the right, with two steps, with his hands low, medium, high, from the left, etc., in order to get the lay-up right. This diagnosis of the problem, step by step, MAY offer him an example from his real life that would help him understand what he needs to do to write better papers (and pass the course).
Whew! Sorry for the long comment!