Critical Incident Essay

*Oliver, Oliver, what can I say. When he came to us, he was not exactly the model student however, he was a child with promise, short, beautiful smile, loved basketball, TV, and pizza . He enjoyed everything a child at his age should enjoy. He also understood something at his age that a child should never understand—life can be cold and parents can negatively alter their own child’s life by their poor choices. He learned a mother could be selfish. He learned his mother has other children—booze, maybe drugs. His mother probably did not plant roses outside of her window. She planted discord. His mother did not bake cookies for him, but she did cook his pride. She did not take the time to brush his hair, but she brushed any self worth he had out of him. Daily, along with the other kids, you could imagine him standing in the apartment complex, on the green grass, leaning up against the rusted metal fence looking at a world gone by…..
He was usually late to class due to being in the office or from just plain being in trouble. He never had his homework and when I called his home, I would hear, “He will have that tomorrow Ma’am.” This was the rundundant answer I heard all of the time. In class he would sleep, or sit back in his chair because he did not want to do anything. My grade level team members and I has ran out of options until one day we were in the science lab and noticed he was peeking in the science lab after school. The other teacher said, “What are you doing here!” He hesistantly asked “Can I please stay here and help you all?” He ended up being a big help. His assignments were still bad and he struggled with every subject-- there was no subject he did better or worse in. Then one day, we found out why he had been adamant about staying after school and not having his homework. His mother was in jail and his aunt and grandmother were doing the best they could raising him. The school nurse, who was a leader in a nursing organization, saw this frustrating him and appointed him along with several other students to be a junior member in her organization. We also found he responded to positive praise well. It was as if the child-like core of his broken spirit ignited at the precious, praise-filled words spoken by his teachers who wanted so badly to see him reach the finish line not just for the school year but a finish line that gave him the realization he knew he was worth teaching

If I could describe his growth during the school year, I would say he went through a metamorphosis like a butterfly. He first started out like a furry, wriggling, bitter-leaf eating caterpillar just waiting to be snatched up and eaten by a volatile insect. He then spun his cocoon—hiding who he was from everyone. Hiding his homework, hiding his answers in class because he felt he had nothing to offer. Yet, change was going on inside. He was changing for the better. Then slowly the cocoon began to crack. After wriggling again and again, one would have thought he was still a caterpillar because he was still forgetting homework from time to time. Then the moment of truth came. It was time to go to Houston on the intermediate field trip. He was officially coming out of this “cocoon.” Everyone was getting ready in the school gym at around 5:00 am. We were set to leave at 6:00 am to go to Houston for the intermediate trip. Where was Oliver? Why hadn't he come? He has not worked this hard for nothing! A sharp realization rose up within us. There was a possibility his grandmother would not let him go or she could not make it. Chances are someone overslept. I was so disappointed. We tried to call the house several times but no one answered. The “cocoon” may not have sustained him like we thought. The principal started roll call as my eyes nervously darted around the gym. “Hugo, Talisha , Manuel , James.” When Oliver’s name was called there was a dead silence. She paused, made a mark by his name and continued on with roll call. Then, who did we see walking through the door with his grandmother in tow? Oliver! Just as we were gathering things to load the bus, he came in right on time. He fell out of his cocoon, and like a butterfly, he emerged and he was wrinkly! His grandmother was trying to fix his clothes because they had rushed to school. If only he knew how happy his teachers were to see him. I wish you could see how much fun he had on that trip. His wings spread and soared in Houston. He fit in with the other boys and had a great time learning about space at NASA. He was a full butterfly, tried and true. He started the year like a caterpillar, but now he was a butterfly, going from flower to flower, opportunity to opportunity. Homework was being turned in on time and completed. Grades were going up, as well as his attention when questions were being asked.
Oliver will be in the seventh grade this year. He responded so well to positive attention. He genuinely needed love and support. Like many of our students today, he had many issues going on at home and it was a struggle just to walk through the doors of the school in the morning. It did not help that he was a struggling reader, writer and mathematician. When he was treated like somebody by the staff, he began to believe he was somebody—special.