Reward Time

For most teachers, the real rewards are small moments when you actually see that you've made a positive mark on another human being, or recognize that special instant when someone gets something, sees something that they're never been able to see before and they're excited and changed by it. It can be as small as hearing a student mutter, "Oh, NOW I get it..." or seeing their face light up as they realize something new or use the tools you've shown them to create something wonderful.

I haven't had too many of those rewards this year, but Monday brought a whopper. A while back a man had asked my beginning design class to create a logo for a local girls' softball team, and he came back Monday to announce the winner, picked by the girls, and present a hundred-dollar check to the student who created the chosen logo.

Much to my surprise, they picked a very traditional design, but the minute it was announced, I saw that it meant more to that particular student than it would have to any of the others. It was a huge deal to him.

At the beginning of the year, when they first walked in, looking like young Brandos in Streetcar Named Desire, all swagger and bulging muscles under their tight T-shirts, I thought he and his buddy were thugs. I was right about the friend, whose surliness and quick temper made it a sad relief for many of us when he dropped out of school after a few weeks.

But this other boy defied my preconceptions and became a fairly good student, working hard and occasionally liking some of the things I taught him, playing with Photoshop and Illustrator, making things he thought looked cool. There was still a 'something' under the surface, but I didn't know what it was.

Later I mentioned the award to the vice-principal, and she suggested I call and tell his dad, insinuating his dad needed to hear good things about him. I tried to call, but the number was dead. Hmmm. I called the home number, and got a woman who told me she was his guardian. Seems he's living with his best friend's family, and his dad is, well, let's just say he has problems of his own, and isn't able to parent or care for anyone, including himself at the moment. Not even a mention of a mom. The boy had no money, and no real way of making any.

So for one afternoon there was a Santa Claus, and I remembered why I teach.