Marquez loves dinosaurs. And dogs. He knows a lot about them, has strong opinions about them and I am so glad I get to see him each day and read with him to learn about these opinions. When I asked him, as part of a book introduction on different night jobs months ago, what kind of job he might want in the future, I did not expect “dinosaur scientist”. He clarified, “the kind that dig and find the bones and fossils, not the kind that study them in the lab.” We have since read a few different books on dinosaurs, the last one Dinosaurs, Truth or Lie. Each page had 4 facts on a different kind of dinosaur and he had to figure out the lie. He was pretty good at spotting the lie, each time. After, we play a quick game of truth or lie, sharing statements about ourselves and trying to trick each other. He is a good truth sleuth. We just read a book on sled dogs and right away, Marquez was suspicious, “That seems like slavery, making those dogs do all the work, pulling that musher. I could see his point. We got to the page that said the dogs liked running. I questioned him, “do you think that means they like it?”. “It says they like running, not pulling the guy,” he responded, unconvinced.
Last year, I had Marquez in the 2nd grade class I took over when the teacher quit and the class cycled through a series of subs. By the time I arrived, it took every ounce of skill gleaned from 20 year of teaching to get through each day. It was rough. I remember so many arguments, outbursts, furniture shoved, names called and kids leaving the class in anger and frustration. It broke my heart and frazzled my nerves.
When I think back to Marquez in that 2nd grade classroom, I remember his fierce loyalty to his teacher, the one that had left. He was so angry when I changed the room set up, cleaned their desks out, and established new routines. “Ms. Tina will be back!” he yelled at me. At the time, exhausted, I wished she would. I understood he was mourning her absence, I respected his loyalty.
Day by day, things got slightly better. There were moments of calm, moments of learning, moments of cohesion. They were still fleeting, but the moments became for frequent and then they became a little longer. I remember Marquez in those couple of months, always eager to share his thinking at math time, ready to draft his story idea in pictures and rehearse orally. And I remember him avoiding reading, jumping from book to book, always ones he was interested in, but way above his level. He would struggle through a sentence and then jump to the next one in his book box. Repeat and then turn to drawing in his notebook.
Covid struck and I lost much of my contact with Marquez. Wifi was not something he had, so the device we sent home was only somewhat useful. I sent workbooks, books, a game and a puzzle to fill the gap along with regular phone calls to check in on him. He was able to join one Zoom meeting just before summer break, using a parent’s phone. I was so excited to see and hear him again.
This year, I went back to my role as a coach, servicing some intervention students and jumped when Marquez’ name was mentioned as needing support. We have had some bumps, mostly due to spotty wifi and glitchy Chromebooks. But I am so glad I have had the chance to get to know him, work with him, read with him, daily. He is such a cool kid, and I wish I had known just how cool, so much sooner. I wish I could have looked beyond my frustration and seen him more clearly. He reads with confidence, skill and so much curiosity and thinking about what is he reading. He constantly talks back to the characters in the book, admonishing them for their choices, or predicts outcomes, long before the author has foreshadowed clues. He is a delight. I start my day seeing him each morning. Actually, I don’t even usually see him. He often has his camera off. But he is always there. If I ask to “lay eyes on him” to just make sure his is okay, he obliges. Today he turned it on, after reading a folktale about coyote, to show me his two teddy bears. It was the best start to my day.