Let me tell about a few more experiences at related to my previous blog. In 1980, I volunteered in the other 4th grade classroom the second semester. The first classroom had a scary older dictator for a teacher. The second had a young male teacher with barely any control of the class. I remember two African American boys by name – Maurice and Isaac.

Maurice, a small gentle boy, was new and from Chicago. He was way behind the rest of the class. The teacher assigned him to me on the days I came. After Maurice and I worked together a few times, he would stand in his seat when he saw me walk through the door. He would smile and say, “Miss Sidona.” Not sure I helped him much academically, but he enjoyed our time together and always tried very hard.

Isaac struggled learning. I worked with him often too. Isaac was more tough and brazen. One day he was very angry. He had to go to summer school. I sat him down across from me at a table. I told him that between 3rd and 4th grades I had to go to summer school (true). I made him understand it meant nothing and to look at me I am in college. I am going to be a teacher.  He looked at me and said, “Miss Sidona, if you can do it I can do it.” And, he did not complain about it anymore.

Now I would like to talk about two boys from the first 2-3 years I was a teachers aide where I live now (2004-2005). I will not use there names because it is too recent, where I live, and this is the internet. The boys are both Hispanic (the Hispanics here prefer to be Mexicans) and in 4th-5th grades. I never taught or worked with them in academic capacity. I interacted with them in the cafeteria and halls.

The first young man (4th or 5th I cannot be sure) was in my daughter’s class. I only made contact with him in the cafeteria usually. He I always threatened to sue me every time I might touch his shoulder or bump him. I would just say something like, “You do that.”  One day he was walking toward me in the hallway. It was just he and I. No one else around. He was walking right at me and then into me. My reaction to this is to hug. If a student initiates, I will hug. I was also a parent of a student in his class. He did not hug back, but he did not pull away either. He just stayed a few seconds silently.  I told him I would not tell anybody he needed a hug. We never spoke of it and it never happened again. I have no idea why he needed that hug only that he did that day. Sometimes making a difference is a present moment and a leap of faith. I did not pull away either out of fear of being sued.

The second boy was in 4th grade and I am still friends a bit with him through facebook. He was heavy set with a very bad temper. Students picked on him. He was fine if left alone. One day in the hall where over a hundred students were waiting for school to start, he went off. I knew the other boy had started it. He was lost in blind rage. I got between them and after 3-4 tries calling his name, I had to get out that cafeteria voice of mine. If he would have had any kind of weapon (pencil, scissors)  I would have gotten hurt.  I sounded like the voice of God and he finally heard me. I knew he did not see me standing there. He shook his head, took a deep breath, and a finally saw it was me. It scared him. Another time, he was in line to come in from the playground and a boy picked on him. I sent the boy into his class in the building. My young friend wanted to go after him. I grabbed him by the arm and he spun me in circles trying to get away but finally listened to me. I would take care of it and talk to the other boy’s teacher. The next day his arm was sore. I asked if he thought I did it when I would not let him go after the boy. His response, “Oh no. That couldn’t be.” I was pretty sure it was. He moved to Texas before the end of that school year. I talked to him before he left about his temper and how I would not be there to help him control it. He would have to be careful or he could hurt somebody. He said he would. In high school he came back and was in band with my daughter. I knew him when I saw him and he knew me. He seemed to have that temper under better control.  This past summer he and his mother were out eating at Pizza Hut and so were my daughter and I. He hugged me when he saw me. He secretly bought our lunch on his way out without.

Truly – what could I write that will more important than moments like these. These memories far and near are blessings for me. Sometimes my poetry feels more like a curse than a gift.