What Teaching Justin Taught Me
ThefirsttimeImetJustin,hisfacetwistedwithredrage.Afteryearsofpublicschoolteaching,ittakesalottounsettleme,butwhenJustinstrodeintomyroom,tossedhisflimsynotebookonthedesk①,anddefiantlyputhisfeetuponthetable,Ifroze.Ihadknownhimexactlythreeseconds,andhewasalreadybeinginsolent②tomyauthority.IpolitelyaskedJustintoremovehismuddyfeetfromthefurnitureandcarefullymentionedthattherewasanassignmentontheboard.“Iaintgotnopen,”hespat.Iwasreadytolaunchintomy“howoldareyou,andcantyoubringapentoclass”lecturewhenitoccurredtomethathemustbeatleasttwentyyearsold.Asavocationalschoolteacher,Ioftenseeolderstudents,butJustinpossessedaterrifiedlittleboyqualitywrappedupinamansbody.Hisfacewasweatheredandpockmarkedwithbrightredacne③.Heworeadirtyplaidshirtovertorn,mudcakedjeansrippedatthehemandwrittenonwithgreenmarker.Hisshoeswereuntied,andhisbrownsocksslumpedathisankles.EverythingaboutJustinsuggestedtroublemaker—including,andexceptfor,hiseyes.Asteelyblue,theypiercedthroughmewithawarningglare.Yet,thosesamecrystalclearblueeyes,likedeeppoolsofwater,arewhatmademequietlyplacemyownpenonhisdeskandwalkaway.Itwasasmallgestureofarmistice④tolethimknowIwasnttheenemy.Ithoughtitmightallowhimtodrophisguardabit,buthehadalreadydecidedtohateme.Heleisurelyopenedhisnotebookandbeganwriting.Isighedandcontinuedwalkingtheaisles,glancingbacktowardJustinwiththesoftestsmileIcouldmuster.Ithadtakenfivehardyearsofteachingformetolearnwhichbattlestopickonthefirstdayofclass.Notbeingpreparedforclasswasabattleforthesecondday.Iknewafewthings,butJustintaughtmemanynewlessonsoverthecourseofoureighteenweekstogether.Istruggledtohelphimimprovehiswritingwiththegoalinmindthathemightbeabletocompleteajobapplication.Helackedbasicskillsofeverykind;hedidntcapitalizethefirstwordinsentences,andhewroteasifhehadneverheardofpunctuation.Hestruggledtocontainhisconstantlyboilinganger,butitwassobottledupthatsomedaysthecorkburstandpeltedwhoeverwasnear⑤.TheotherstudentslearnedtoavoidJustin,andtheseatsoneithersideofhimwerealwaysempty.Heactedasifhissocialleprosy⑥didntbotherhimandtookhisspaceasaninvitationtoloungehislimbsonthevacantseats.Usually,hisragewasdirectedataninanimateobject,achairoroneofmycomputers.“Ihatethesestupidthings,andtheyhateme,”hewouldshout.IwouldquicklyjoinJustinathisworkstationandinstructhimhowtoworkthroughtheprintingproblemorhowtoaccesshisworkontheschoolsserver.Ihadtaughthimthesesimpletasksadozentimes,butJustincouldneverretaintheknowledgeandeverydaywasatrialofpatienceforbothofus.Iknewthatansweringhisragewithangerwouldonlyescalate⑦anargumenttoadangerouslevel.Thedayhisfuryfinallyeruptedatmewasoneofthemostfrighteningofmyteachingcareer.Iwasseatedataworktableconferencingquietlywithtwostudentswhohadpeereditedeachothersessays.“Yourthesisisstrong,andIlikethewayyouorganizedtheconclusion,”Icounseled,“Maybeyoushould...”MyvoicetrailedoffasIsawJustinoutofthecornerofmyeyekickthecomputertable.Withoutturningmyface,Icalledinhisdirection,“Justin,moveyourchairawayfromthecomputerandcounttoten.Iwillbetheretohelpyousoon.”AssuringJustininthiswaytypicallyboughtmesometimeuntilIcouldfinishworkingwithanotherstudent.IwasalwayscarefulnottoimmediatelydropwhatIwasdoingandracetoJustinsside,fearingthatwouldsimplyrewardhisimpatienceandsendthemessagethathisfurywasjustified.JustasIwasresumingmyconference,Justinletloose.“Icantdoanyofthis,anditsyourfault,Mrs.Young!”Heflungthecontentsofthetableinmydirection.Istaredatthepapersatmyfeet,hopinghistirade⑧wouldend.Justinrepeatedlykickedthetowerofthecomputer,crumplingthemetal.Hestormedfromtheroom,tearsoffuryglisteninginhiseyes.SilencedescendedasalleyeswatchedtoseewhatIwoulddonext.Thetensionwasasthickassoup.IwasactuallythankfulthatJustinhadleft,becauseitavoidedthesceneofkickinghimoutorhavinghimremovedforhisbehavior.Iknewthathisoutbursthadgonetoofar.Thistime,Iwouldnotbeabletocoaxhimthroughhisangerorlistenwhilehelamentedallthethingsthatwentwronginhislife.Iwalkedcasuallytothedoor,tryingtocalmmybeatingheart.Thehallwaywasasemptyasatomb.Itelephonedthedeansofficetoletthemknowthathewasloose.ThenIclosedmyclassroomdoorandresumedclass.Thoughmypulsewasracing,Iwantedtoreassuremystudentsthatthesituationwasundercontrol.WhenthebellrangItooktothehallwayslookingforJustin.IwasntsurewhatIwouldsay,butIknewthathispunishmentwouldbeoutofmyhands.Hisdisciplinerecordatourschoolwasalreadythickwithpinkslips,andIknewthathewasonthevergeofexpulsion⑨.Hehadalreadybeenexpelledfromanyotherplacehemightbeabletogo,includingthetrailerhesharedwithhisauntandherfourchildren.Justinhadbackedhimselfintoatightcornerwithnoclearexits.Duringmynexttwoclassperiods,Iheardhisnamecalledrepeatedlyovertheintercom.Whenthebellfinallyrangforlunch,Idecidedtocheckthebathroomsonelasttime.AsIcalledintotheboysrestroom,Iheardastrangescratchingsoundcomingfromthecarpentryclass⑩nextdoor.Thebuildingwassupposedtobeempty,asthelunchroomisacrosscampus,soIquietlyopenedtheshopdoor.TherewasJustin,furiouslysandingawayatthelegofatable.Hedidntseemeatfirst,andIwatchedasheslidhishandgracefullyoverthesurface,checkingitssmoothness.Whenhefinishedsanding,hereachedfortheclearstainandthepaintbrushandnoticedmypresence.Hehesitatedforamoment,butthencontinuedhisworkwithoutsayingaword.ItwasthenthatInoticedthetableanditsdesign.Thewoodwasamarbledredpinewithcarefullycarvededges.Thesurfacehadbeenmasterfullyengravedwitharosepatternandthelegsfinishedinapowerfulyetdelicateclaw.Itwasagorgeouspieceoffurniture,andtheskillandlaborputintoitwereevident.“Justin,thatisexquisite!”Iexclaimed,forgettingmyanger.Hebowedhisheadandshrugged.“IjustwanttofinishitbeforeIleave,”hemumbled.MyheartsankasIloweredmyselftothefloortowatch.Webothcheckedtheclocktoseehowmuchtimeuntilthenextbell,whenoursecretwouldberevealed.Punishmentwasthelastthingonmymind.IfelthopelesstohelpJustin,knowingtheholehehaddugwashisown.ButasIwatchedhimwork,afeelingofhopeforthisyoungmanwashedoverme.Ichidedmyselffordismissinghisabilitiesandjudginghimtobehandicappedsimplybecausehecouldntwritecompletesentences.Justinhadagift.Ifonlyhecouldchannelhistalentandcoupleitwithsomeselfcontrol,hecouldachievesomethingremarkableoratleastsupporthimselfandhisfamily.IdontknowwhereJustinistoday.Heleftthecarpentryclassbeforethefinalcoatofstainhedsocarefullyappliedtothetablehaddried.Ithinkofhimoftenandsometimesimaginehimasanapprenticeinacabinetryorfurnitureshopsomewhere,workingawayatanothermasterpieceinanenvironmentwherehehasbetteroutletsforhisemotionsandmoresupportforhisambitions.Ithinkofwhathetaughtmeaboutjudgingpeopletooquickly.IdontknowwhetherthepatienceIshowedJustingavehimanexampleofanalternativewayofbeing.Ihopeso.Sometimes,though,Ifeelthatthebaggagestudentscomeinwithisjusttooheavytounpack.ButasIsitbackinmyclassroomandadmirehisbeautifultableinfrontofme,Iamremindedthatweallhavevalue.—MelissaScholesYoungNotes:①...tossedhisflimsynotebookonthedesk:……将他那薄薄的笔记本扔到课桌上②insolent:傲慢无礼的③...pockmarkedwithbrightredacne:……布满了显眼的红色痤疮④gestureofarmistice:停战的手势⑤...corkburstandpeltedwhoeverwasnear:……塞子飞了出去（这里指发怒）,谁靠近谁遭殃⑥leprosy:麻风病⑦escalate:升级,加剧⑧tirade:长篇激烈的话语⑨onthevergeofexpulsion:处于被开除的边缘⑩carpentryclass:上木工课的教室mumble:喃喃而语anappenticeinacabinetry:家具厂的一名学徒
天生我才必有用
第一次见到贾斯汀时，他的脸因愤怒而涨得通红。在公立学校任教这么多年，我已经很少惊慌失措了。但是当贾斯汀大步走进教室，一把将他薄薄的笔记本扔在课桌上，目中无人地把腿翘在桌子上时，我居然不寒而栗。认识他才3秒钟，他就已经开始藐视我的权威了。我客气地让他把腿拿下来，然后小心翼翼地提及黑板上的作业。“我没笔。”他吐出一句话。我刚要责问他“你多大了？不知道上课要带笔吗？”忽然又意识到，他至少也有20岁了。作为一个职业学校的老师，我经常会碰到年纪稍大的学生。但是，贾斯汀成熟的身体里裹着的分明是一个受惊的小男孩。他脸上布满了显眼的红色痤疮，上身穿一件脏兮兮的方格衬衣，下身穿一条满是泥巴、印着绿色字母的牛仔裤，裤脚处已经裂开。他没系鞋带，袜子耷拉在脚踝上。贾斯汀浑身上下透着一股捣蛋劲儿——这既包括又不包括他的眼睛。他那坚定的眼神仿佛能看穿我，让我不敢大意；但又是这双晶莹的蓝色眼睛，如同一汪清水，使得我平静地放下自己的笔后走开了。这个小小的停战的表示，是想让他明白我并不是他的敌人，而稍稍放松心里的戒备，谁知他已经恨上我了。只见他悠闲地翻开笔记本，开始写作业。我松了口气，继续在座位间的通道上走着，不时回头看看他，并试着挤出一个最温柔的笑容。五年艰苦的教学经历才让我学会了在第一堂课上挑拣什么样的战役。比如，没有备课就意味着第二天要面对战役。对教学我原也略知一二，但接下来与贾斯汀相处的18个星期里我学会了很多新东西。我努力教他提高写作技能，希望他有朝一日能够顺利地填写求职表。他的基础知识极为匮乏，甚至不知道一句话第一个词的首字母要大写，也不管什么标点符号。他极力控制自己不断膨胀的愤怒，然而愤怒已经满怀，总有一天会爆发，伤及任何靠近他的人。同学们都避开他，因而他两边的座位总是空空如也。他对自己的“社交麻风病”倒是不屑一顾，反而把腿放到旁边的空桌椅上，堂而皇之地占领这些空间。通常他会对身边的无生命物体，如一把椅子或我的电脑，发泄自己的愤怒。“我讨厌这些愚蠢的东西，它们也讨厌我。”他总是如是大叫。而我会马上走到他的身边，提示他怎样打印，或是帮他在学校的服务器上交作业。这些简单的任务我不知道教过他多少遍，但他总是记不住，于是每一天对我们两个人的耐心来说都是一场考验。我知道以怒制怒只会把我们的矛盾提升到不可收拾的地步。那天他对我的愤怒终于爆发。这成为我教学生涯中最可怕的经历。当时我正坐着与两个刚刚相互修改了作文的同学商谈。“你的文章很有说服力，组织得也不错。”我协商道。“也许你应该……”此时我眼睛的余光瞟见贾斯汀正在踢着电脑桌，我的声音逐渐变小了。我没有转头，而是朝着他的方向喊道：“贾斯汀，把你的椅子搬离电脑桌，然后数到十，我马上就过来帮你。”这样向贾斯汀保证，我通常能赢得时间来完成和另一个学生的工作。我一般很少马上放下手头的事，冲到他的身边，以免宠坏他的急躁脾气，并让他错误地认为自己愤怒是正当的。就在我要继续刚才的谈话时，贾斯汀失控了。“我啥都不会，杨老师，都是你的错！”他把书桌里的东西朝我扔了过来。我看着脚下的书本，希望他长篇激烈的话语能及早结束。贾斯汀不停地踢着电脑底座，挤压着上面的金属。他冲出了教室，眼里噙满愤怒的泪水。教室里安静了下来，大家都想看我接下来怎么收场。紧张的局势一触即发。事实上我很感激贾斯汀的离去，因为这样避免了把他撵出去或者开除他的念头。我知道他的爆发太过分了。这次，我不能再哄着他压下胸中的怒火，或是听他诉说生活中的不幸。我若无其事地走向门口，一边竭力地平静心跳。走廊上空无一人。我往教导主任的办公室打了个电话，告诉他们贾斯汀失控的事儿。然后，我关上门，重新开始上课。尽管我自己的心跳在加速，我希望能让学生们相信一切都在掌控之中。下课铃响后，我去走廊上找贾斯汀。我也不确定该对他说些什么，但我知道对他的惩罚将不是我所能控制的。他在学校的处分记录早已挂起了红灯，处在被开除的边缘。先前他已经被所有能去的学校开除过了；他的阿姨和四个表兄妹也把他从活动房屋里赶了出来。贾斯汀已经退到了死胡同里了。接下来的两节课上，我听到贾斯汀的名字在学校的内部通信联络系统里被点了好几次。午饭铃声终于响了，我决定最后一次看一下浴室里有没有人。当我走进男生休息室时，忽然听到隔壁的木工课实验室里传来一阵嚓嚓声。食堂在校园的另一头，这栋楼应该没有人才对啊。我轻轻推开了门。贾斯汀就在这里。他正在用力地打磨一只桌子腿。起初，他没有发现我，他用一只手优美地滑过桌子腿的表面，检查其光滑性。打磨完成后，他伸手去取光亮着色漆和刷子时，才看到了我。他迟疑了一会儿，接着继续自己的工作，一句话也没说。也是此时，我才注意到那张桌子及其设计。木材用的是有着大理石花纹的红松木，边缘已经被仔细地雕刻过了。桌面上刻着一个玫瑰图案，桌腿一端则被做成坚固而精致的爪形。多么华丽的家具！它明显凝聚着贾斯汀的匠心和功夫。“真漂亮啊，贾斯汀。”我叫道。早已将先前的不快抛到九霄云外去了。他低着头，耸了耸肩。“我只是想在离开之前把它做好。”他咕哝道。我低身坐到地板上观看，心也不断地下沉。我们一起看表，想知道到下次打铃还有多少时间，届时我们的秘密就会被人发现了。我早忘记了贾斯汀会受到的惩罚。他一人做事一人当，我也爱莫能助。看着他的工作，我忽然浑身充满了对这个年轻人的希望。我不禁深深责怪起自己。怪自己仅仅因为他不会写一个完整的句子，就否认他的能力，认为他智力有缺陷。而贾斯汀有自己的天分。只要他能够利用自己的天分，控制自己的情绪，就能取得非凡的成就，至少可以养家糊口。我不知道贾斯汀今天身在何方。他小心翼翼刷完最后一道漆后，就离开了那个木工实验室。我经常想起他，有时候会设想他在某个家具厂当学徒，或者在某个家具店上班。也许他正在完成另一件杰作吧。如今，他的工作环境应该能够更好地疏导他的情绪，支撑他的理想。我想起他教会我不能对人匆忙下评语的道理。但愿我对他的耐心能够使他明白生活尚有另一种方式。有时候，我会觉得学生们背负着过于沉重的包裹，难以卸载。然而，当我坐在教室里，欣赏面前贾斯汀做的漂亮的桌子时，我会想到：天生我才必有用。——麦丽莎·S·杨
What I Never Learned in Kindergarten
Mykindergartenclassroomwaslocatedontheleftsideofahallwayattheendofacorridorinaschoolsosmallitheldonlyfiveclassrooms.Iwasafraidofeverything.Iwasafraidofnotbeingabletoopenthelargefrontdoor,thescienceexperimentswesometimesdid,and,mostofall,myteacher.Mrs.Monestelneversmiled.Shewasold,wrinkled,andoverweight.Shefrequentlysaid,“Thatmakesmeverycross,”withadeepscowl.Inmymemory,shealwaysworethesamedress.Irememberverylittleelseofmytimeinkindergarten,exceptthatwereadWeeklyReadersandoneoftheboyskeptcomingoutoftheinclassbathroomwithhispantsdown.Duringaconference,Mrs.Monesteltoldmymotherthat,unfortunately,Iwasaveryaveragechild.Idontrememberheractingasifanyoneelseintheclasswasparticularlyspecial,either.Inthecurrentdebateaboutteacherswhooverinflate①theirstudentsselfesteem,Mrs.Monestelwouldhavebeenchampionedbythosewhobelievewearenowoverdoingit.IthinkthatMrs.Monesteldidntrealizethat,howeversmallherstudentswere,theywerecapableofhavingimportantmoments.Mysonskindergartenteachercouldnthavebeenmoredifferent.AttheendofJeremyskindergartenyear,Iwenttoseehimperforminhisclasspuppetshow.Iarrivedearlyandadmiredtheclassroom.Projectsweredisplayedallovertheplace.Therewasachickhatchingproject,anumberofreadingreadinessprojects,abookcornerforthosewhowerealreadyreaders,andaselfportraitproject.Therewasablockcorner,afewcomputers,clustersofdesksandchairswherethechildrenworked,mailboxesforthechildren,andachartshowingtheweather.Theroomwasexcitingandwarmatthesametime,aninvitingworldforhungryminds.First,IlookedoverallofJeremyswork.ThenItookmyseat,myfathersvideocamerainhand,intherowsofchairsthathadbeensetasidefortheparentstowatchthepuppetshow.Ihadmadeanerrorregardingthetimeoftheshowandsohadanopportunitynotusuallyaffordedthoseofuswhoareperpetuallytardy:Ihadapreshowadventure.Mrs.FeldheimwasJeremyskindergartenteacher.Shewasratherpetiteanddressedinaverycasualmanner.SheworeslightlyBohemianearringsandasmile.Neversaccharine,shewasalwayswarm.Shewaswalkingaroundherclassroominteractingwithherstudentsatworkwhentherewasaknockatthedoor.“Mrs.Feldheim,mayIcomein?”alittleboyaskedtentatively.“Oh,Paul,ofcourse.”Mrs.Feldheimboundedtowardthedoor.Thensheintroducedthevisitor.“Class,Paulhascomehereonaveryspecialassignmenttoday.”Paulsshouldersrelaxed.“Hesinthesecondgrade,youknow.”Mrs.Feldheimsclassgrewquieter.“Hehaschosenourclassforhisproject.Hesgoingtointerviewusaboutwhatitsliketospendadayinourkindergartenclass.Letsallsitonthecarpet.”Paul,whoseheadbarelyreachedMrs.Feldheimships,walkednexttoher.Hewasholdingoneofthosethickpencilsforkidswhohavejustlearnedtowrite.Hispalmshadpencilleadalloverthem.Hiswellbittenfingernailswerealsonearlyblack.Hecarriedatabletofextrawidelinedpaper.Paulwasamanonamission.Mrs.Feldheimsclasswenttothecorner,wheretheyhadabrown,fuzzycarpetfortheirdailymeetings,thekindergartenequivalentofaconferencetable.Oncetheyweresettled,theinterviewbegan.PaulstoodbesideMrs.Feldheim,poisedtoaskhisfirstquestion.Thechildrenwereunusuallyquiet.Highlyamused,IthoughtIwasntgoingtobeabletokeepmyselftogether.ButMrs.Feldheimtookthematterentirelytoheart.“Paul,howwouldyouliketoconductthisinterview?Wouldyouliketoaskonequestiontoeachstudent?Howwouldthatbe?”Paulappearedtobefeelingterriblygrandnow.Hehadhispadandpencilreadytogo,andhenoddedthatMrs.Feldheimssuggestionwasagoodone.“Whatisthefirstthingyoudowhenyoucomeintheroom?”heaskedthefirstlittlegirl.“Hangupmycoat.”Shethoughtabitmore.“Well,onlyifitscoldoutside.”Veryslowly,Paulwrotedownherresponse.Hehadtositdown,becausehecouldntwriteinastandingposition.Ihadbeenwonderingifhecouldwriteatall.“Goodanswer,Casey,”saidMrs.Feldheim,andCaseybeamed.Nowcomfortablyseated,Paulpointedtothenextlittlegirl.Hewasgettingthehangofit.“Whatisyourfavoriteactivity?”“Well,ifsomeoneishavingabirthday,thenthatsit.Butifnot,maybeitstheweatherreportpart.”“Ana,greatanswer,”saidMrs.Feldheim,“verythoughtful.”Onceagain,Paulwasbusywriting.Icouldhardlycontainmyself.PaulcouldnthavefeltmoreimportantifhehadbeenacubreporterfortheNewYorkTimes.Onebyone,hequizzedthechildren.Hewrotefuriouslyandflippedpagesashisnotesgrewlonger.Occasionally,hewouldsaysomethinglike,“Justgivemeaminutetofinishhere.”ItwasallIcoulddonottolaugh.ButMrs.Feldheimwasntlaughing.Giventheexpressiononherface,whatwasgoingonmightwellhavehadaprofoundeffectonournationalsecurity.AsPaulsinterviewcontinued,thechildrengrewmoreinterestedandtheiranswersbecamemorethoughtful.IthinkPaulevenadlibbedafewquestionsbyvirtueofhishavingbeenastudentofMrs.Feldheimstwoyearsearlier.Finally,hecompletedhistask.Helookedplainlyexhausted.Allofthatwritinghaduseduphisentiretabletandmostofhisstrength.Buthewasproud.Mrs.Feldheimsclasshadremainedattentivetotheend,whichwasremarkable.Paulstoodup,andMrs.Feldheimshookhisdirtylittlehand.Herexpressionremainedearnest.“Paul,thankyousomuchforchoosingourclassforyourinterview,”shesaid,asthoughhedhadawiderangeofvenuesfromwhichtochoose.AsPaulbegantoleave,shesaid,“Oh,Paul?Ifyouwriteitup,Iwouldreallyappreciateitifyoucouldmakemeacopyformyfiles.”IdontknowifPaulwaseverabletocompileameaningfulpieceofwritingfromhisnotes,anditisevenmoredoubtfulthatMrs.Feldheimeverreceivedacopyofit,butafterthepuppetshow,whichwasitsownwonderfulexperience,IbeganthinkingaboutMrs.Feldheim.IrealizedthatherresponsetoPaulsassignmentwasthereasonsheisateacherandIamnot.SomethingthatIsawascomical,shetookseriously.Shetookwhatcouldhavebeenaroutineexchangeandcreatedseveralmomentsofpersonalhistory,notonlyforPaul,butforallthestudentsinherclass.Ieventuallycametoknow“Mrs.Feldheim”as“Naomi.”InagesturethatIfoundflattering,sheinvitedmetodinnerafterJeremygraduatedkindergarten.AsforPaul,ourbuddingjournalist②,Idontknowwhatbecameofhim.Isupposehesapplyingtocollegenow.Onethingforsure,heandmysonwereluckytheydidnthavetosufferwiththeverycrossMrs.Monestel.—DebbiKlopmanNotes:①overinflate:过分夸大②buddingjournalist:崭露头角的记者
