Turn if Off

You know that student. The one who struggles academically knows things don't come easily but tries to save face. Circling answers and drawing random geometric shapes to just get it done. Grabs the biggest book and stares at its pages.

Anything to look like his peers.

I wish I could show him what I see. A student who loves to draw. A kid who has a sincere desire to learn. A boy who wants to find his way.

Instead, he raged. Instead, he yelled. Instead, he punched the desk and became red-faced. My hands on his shoulders I said, "I want to hear you. I see you." He relaxes. He laughs it off fighting his anger.

Anything to look like his peers.

I walk him to lunch. He tries to chat. He tries to gear himself up for a break, but he can't break his anger. I want so much for him, and all he can hear is the self-defeating dialogue that runs in his head non-stop. I say, "I'm right here, and I can stay." He yells, "No one hears me, no one cares."

Breathe.

He breathes. Fighting tears. Fighting stares. Fighting.

I wish he could see all that I see. All the unique parts that make him who he is.

Maybe someday.