8 out of 10 and the meaning of life

This is the one I've been waiting to write.

David is a ten-year old 4th grader in my homeroom class. His social skills, though, are more akin to those of a second grader, and, as one of three non-Navajo students in a school of over 275, he faces a daily barrage of emotional and, often, physical thrashing.

Academically, David struggles, as well. His motor skills are atrocious and his organizational prowess equally concerning. A hard worker, David still struggles to keep up with the class in terms of completing and turning in assignments. Everyday is a battle for David in my classroom.

However, David is also an incredibly caring and kind young person. In fact, he single-handedly ensures that the question I hear more frequently than any other during the day is, 'Mr. Balke, can I have a hug?' An eager participator, David is never short on comments or effort to contribute to classroom activities and discussions. I always enjoy seeing David's smiling face.

David is a recent arrival in Navajo Nation. His anglo father, a Kentucky native, married a Navajo woman over the summer and relocated his three children, both of whom I also have as students, to Navajo Country. Last year, David attended a Christian school in Carlsbad, New Mexico, wherein he, his family, and school community developed an 'Individual Education Plan', which enabled him to receive focused care and instruction through the special education process. Unfortunately, in a series of still unclear, and altogether shady, incidents, David's IEP and any significant records thereof, were lost in the move, leaving him without recourse for the attention he needs to succeed in the school environment. From the first day David entered my room, I felt we would struggle every bit of the way to bring him up to par. This initial inclination has proven painfully true.

As the year's progressed, David and I have scraped and clawed our way in the direction of academic success. And, slowly, we've seen some signs of progress. Spelling scores improved, handwriting became clearer, papers and other school materials started to come back from the home- in his own way, David was clearly moving in the right direction. Notwithstanding, when I introduced this week's batch of spelling words to students and announced that our 'big goal' would be for every one of them to earn at least an 8 out of 10, I couldn't help feeling surprised and, perhaps cast aside as a bit unrealistic at this point, David's bold question of what would happen if he were to get a 10 out of 10. Still, I replied that that would be great, and off we set to work toward our 80% mark, which we call proficiency.

Through two practice tests, it became clear that 8 out of 10 would be a struggle for David, let alone achieving the 10 for 10 dream number. He seemed up-beat, though, about his chances, and held on to his list of words. He informed me, moreover, that he'd been studying at home with his family and felt good about his chances for the test. So, when 8:05 arrived this morning and, with it, our big test, I was curious to learn just how far David had really come.

The test came and went in a flash. My students skipped on to their next class, and, after setting the 5th graders to work on a writing assignment, I got to work grading homeroom spelling tests. About half-way through, I arrived at Mr. David's. The first thing I noticed was the relative clarity of his handwriting. Each letter was separated, and I recognized exactly which ones he intended to write. David started off strong, spelling paragraph perfectly and with wonderful penmanship. 'P-a-r-a-g-r-a-p-h'- you got it dude! One for one. Our second word, strategy, posed a bit of a problem, and David's response was one letter off- one for two. Word three was also narrowly misspelled, again one letter in the wrong spot serving as the culprit. '1 for three' I said in my mind, sighing as myu excitement shifted toward resignation that proficiency for David would have to wait at least one more week. Then, David got hot- real hot.

'Article'- no problem. 'Author'- a breeze! 'Continue'- are you kidding? 'Illustration'- holy cow! Through ten words, and after one more hiccup, David was sitting at 7 of 10, one short of his goal of eight. I offer my students one bonus word per week- a chance to test their skills and improve their score. David had one more shot at meeting his big goal. The word was 'accurate', a common word with a double-c combo that had given even my top-performing students trouble all week. My eyes moved across David's eleventh line deliberately. 'A'- good; 'c', ooook; 'c'- yes, got the hard part; 'u', half way home; 'r'- could we really...; 'a', oh, dude- 't', one more!; 'e'- HE DID IT!!! I think my fifth grade class thought I'd gone insane because I'd never expressed such a loud and seemingly out of nowhere burst of emotion in front of them before (and I tend to be fairly animated). I wanted to run next door to Mr. Mendrop's to break the good news to David, myself. I thought of his dad, who'd been in for half-a-dozen meetings regarding David's problems and progress so far this year, wanting so badly for his son to excel, spending countless hours with him, his other daughters, and new wife and step-son talking about goals, discipline, and hard work. I pictured him posting David's test on the refrigerator and, more clearly, I pictured David's smile as he handed the test to his dad. I saw the irrepressible joy, the sheepish grin, the sense of pride- 'I did it, dad!'. That's exactly what I wrote on his paper, clearly, and with red marker- 'You did it!!'.

Some would say this is not meaningful. Some would call it just a lucky test, not entirely relevant in the grander scheme of David's life. But for one small moment on a cold February day, young David, my student, learned what it was like to own the universe. You're right, David- two a's, two c's, a 'u', an 'r', 't', and 'e'- you were as accurate as anyone can be. Right now, in this moment, the world is yours.

So, when they tell you that, together, we can't achieve great things, when they scoff at the ability of every child to excel academically, and when they say that some things are just not possible, think of David. Can we do anything? Can we move mountains? Yes, we can, folks. Yes, we can.

Ecstatically,

--Mr. Balke