Little Things - Part 1

I first noticed Katie on the second day of school. I was making my initial visit as a supervisor for student teachers at an elementary school in Detroit. A brand new first grader, Katie was standing next to the wall sucking her thumb. Though she wasn't crying, she looked forlorn and a bit mystified. The rest of the children were learning proper protocol for washing their hands. Apparently, Katie hadn't been sufficiently enthralled in the presentation and was being disciplined for her infraction.

I soon discovered that Katie was a student in one of the classes I observe. Virtually every time I visited, her name was on the board followed by a series of checkmarks that boldly proclaimed, "Katie was bad - again." She rarely lasted more than a couple minutes before being banished to her desk as the rest of the children gathered on the carpet at the teacher's feet. I never noticed her do anything truly naughty, but she was squirmy and didn't seem to follow instructions immediately. Mostly, she appeared sad. I tried to encourage her with a smile, but she rebuffed my attempts to reach out to her.

One day during seat work, I went to Katie's table. The children were drawing pictures with crayons to illustrate a story. I rummaged through my binder to find a piece of paper, but since I didn't have any blank pieces, the best I could do was tear off a corner from a used piece. It was nothing more than a tiny bit of paper with crooked, rough torn edges. I knelt by Katie's desk and wrote something on the scrap of paper. Not all first graders know how to read, but they have figured out that written text is important. I handed the paper to Katie.

"What does it say?" she asked.

I showed the paper to another little girl sitting nearby. She read the note, "Katie is a beautiful artist." Katie and the other children at the table smiled, Katie most of all.

"I'm going to watch how good you do and write some more," I told her.

I watched Katie as she continued to color her picture. When it was time to go to the carpet, I whispered, "I'm going to watch how quietly you sit and listen on the carpet."

Katie scurried to the carpet. Every few minutes, she looked back at me and smiled. Her eyes said, "Are you noticing how hard I'm trying?"

"Katie is a very good listener," I wrote on the tiny scrap of paper. Later I added, "Katie knows how to raise her hand when she wants to talk."

Just before leaving the classroom, I handed Katie the note. Her classmate read it. The other children looked on in awe. One little girl asked, "Will you make me one of those?"

The next time I visited this class, Katie ran up to me with an enormous grin on her face.

"I still have that paper," she said.

The student teacher told me that she kept the note in her pencil case and proudly showed it to anyone willing to take a look.

Several weeks later, I visited the class for the last time. Katie ran up to me and gave me a big hug. I'm still not sure she knows who I am, but she knows I think she's someone pretty special (which I do).

"I lost that paper you gave me," she announced. "Will you make me another one?"

"Sure," I replied. "I'm going to watch you."

I tore off another corner of scrap paper and began writing, "Katie is very good at math . . . "