Okay, I'll admit that I have never read that book. I started to... No, that was Wuthering Heights. I was on page one for literally days before I gave up and moved on to another book. That is NOT what this post set out to be about. FOCUS. You haven't done anything productive all day, no laundry, dishes, grading, dinner isn't even made. At least commit to maintaining an idea through written expression.
An interesting thing happened today. I said when I started this gig that I was not going to immediately believe the word of an honor student over a troublemaker. Not that the honor student shouldn't be believed, but, if I was not there for the ordeal, it's not fair to take sides. Sure, the troublemaker has a lifetime of crying wolf behind him, but if nobody EVER believes him, it won't inspire him to start telling the truth, it will inspire him to give up. And back to the story.
A few weeks ago, a student who...... is not necessarily known for his achievement, in the classroom or in behavior.... scored a 94 on his vocabulary test. I was so incredibly proud of him, because I knew he had been trying hard, and it feels so good when that much effort pays off. The class applauded and he smiled, but a small voice in the class muttered something about how he had copied someone's test. This didn't make sense, as he sits in the back corner and the students sit in rows (or did, at that time). Plus, the muttering wasn't becoming an angry mob, so I let it go.
Yesterday, when I was passing back tests, a student did not receive his. He immediately jumped to "It was stolen!" Now, I'm a logical person. I know that, usually "stolen" means "it fell of my desk, rolled under a chair, and I'm too lazy to look for it" or "I forgot that I put it in my locker a week ago" or "My friend borrowed it and I wasn't paying attention when he asked." These "stolen" things almost always turn up. But, as I had just spent the evening GRADING ALL THE THINGS, I knew that, if he had no test, there WAS no test. I had kept them all together, and all tests were accounted for. Maybe it really was stolen. He then told me, free of mutters, that he suspected the aforementioned troublemaker, because he had stolen his test the previous week and had made a 94. So it was true. Or it was at least supported by present circumstances. I told the test-less honor student that I would figure something out, but that I didn't think it was stolen by this particular troublemaker this particular time, because he hadn't gotten the kind of grade you cheat to get. If you catch my drift. He demanded a solution, and I panicked and gave him a 100 out of sympathy. I couldn't make him re-take the test, I didn't know where it was, and even if Trouble had stolen it, it's not like he would give it back.
A few class periods later, I found his test hiding under obscure papers on my desk. He had missed two questions. Oops.
Today, I sequestered Trouble and told him that it had been suggested that he had not earned that 94. I said that I had been disappointed to hear this, because I knew he had been working hard, and I wanted to believe he had earned it. As I had not witnessed the ordeal myself, I asked him once if this was true. He said absolutely not. He said he thinks he knows who started the rumor and why, but that he had studied hard and earned the grade fair and square. I probably should have re-tested him, but the hippie side of me screamed that if he was never trusted he would never do anything trustworthy. If he had cheated this time, maybe our brief talk was what he needed to feel guilty about it.
He went back to his table, but he didn't do any work for the rest of the class. I watched him sit there as he stared at the library wall. He didn't even talk to his friends around him until it was time to leave. What was the message behind that blank face? Was it I can't believe that little goodie-two-shoes snitched on me! Or was it I can't believe someone said I cheated when I got a good grade! As he left, I overheard him talking to his friends. I caught snippets of "Do you know who it was?" and "I can't believe someone would say that!" The cynical part of me told the hippie part of me that he knew I was watching and was dutifully reciting the lines of Startled, Confused, Wrongfully-Accused Teenager. But the hippie side of me told the cynical side to chill her grill and give him a chance. Maybe he had earned the A. Maybe not. Maybe my believing him him will inspire him to turn around. Maybe not. Maybe he stared at the wall and plotted how to cheat more efficiently next time, and maybe he was wondering what was for lunch tomorrow and who to ask to tomorrow's February dance.
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