The second time I met with him, he pushed the book across the table and said “I’m not reading today.”

 

“May I read to you?, I asked.

 

“No,” he responded.

 

I tried to talk with him. I tried to reason with him. Finally I told him if we don’t at least try to read, I won’t be able to come back. He grabbed the book, opened it and began to read.

 

It’s great to feel wanted.

 

 

When I retired I vowed to never again wear a watch. Since the clocks at the school aren’t synchronized, I bring a little clock to my tutoring sessions.

 

We were 30 minutes into our session when I noticed he was fixating on the clock.

 

“Are you bored?” I asked.

 

“How much time do we have left?” he responded.

 

I told him we had about ten minutes left, not a long time. We continued. I held up our book so he couldn’t see the clock. But when it was time to check the clock – it was gone.

 

“Oh my!” I said. “I believe my clock grew legs and ran away!”

 

He laughed as he revealed the timepiece, shoved behind his books. I asked him why he’d hidden the clock.

 

“I didn’t want our time to end,” he said.

 

 

He wanted nothing to do with the “All About Me” booklet, which we tutors use to help us learn more about our student. He said he didn’t want to say anything about himself or his family. I had to consider other ways to learn something about him. So, if a color was in a story, I’d ask him his favorite color, and would tell him my favorite color. We’d follow the same strategy for animals, favorite foods, etc. I didn’t want him to feel he was being questioned.

 

A few weeks later he wanted to show me something. He spelled out AMERICA and said his mother’s name is AMERICA. I told him how clever he is to notice that, and that seeing words within words would help him with his reading. But he would get easily discouraged.

 

“I can’t do it,” he would say.

 

One day I asked him what country he lives in, and he responded “America.” I asked him what that makes him, and he answered “American.” I asked him to spell it: AMERICAN. I can. I can do anything I want to, but I must want to do it. I know that when he says he can’t, I know he doesn’t want to. 

 

“I see words within words too, and I know if I can, you can,” I shared with him.

 

I began tutoring him in March, and in June, at the end of the school year, he had increased his spelling from four correct to twenty correct out of 25. And, he raised his reading one full grade level.

 

 

We meet after his lunch period, so I didn’t think it unusual when he asked me for mints to he could get the taste of his lunch to go away. I had TicTacs and offered them. He took one and put the rest in his pocket.

 

Thinking I would teach him some social etiquette peppered with a little guilt, I said, “Out of the kindness of my heart, I offered you a mint and you took the whole thing.”

 

As he returned the mints, he said, “Next week, do you think the kindness of your heart could bring chocolate?”