Thursday, February 11, 2010

How long?

How big could an eighth grader be? Willie towered over me. He’d been held back twice. Held back, no one flunked anymore. He wasn’t trouble. He simply didn’t do anything. Didn’t talk. Didn’t study. Didn’t care.

I called his parents and requested a conference. I planned to ask if there were ways we could work together to help improve Willie’s grades and prepare him for high school.

His dad showed up a few days later. “How long does Willie have to waste his time here before he can quit and make himself useful on the farm?” he asked.

Got my answer.


  1. Aaaahhh. Gulp. Teachers have a high calling.

  2. Sad.

    I hope all your pieces are one day collected in a volume. For their brevity, they pack such a wallop.

  3. Right. I remember calling parents to discuss a kid's foul mouth, only to hear them dropping f-bombs during our conversation about it.

    Kathleen nailed it.