Excitement filled my kitchen when the kids got home, and the story spilled out.
The fifth grade class had taken a math test. It wasn’t unique, just their regular math assessment. When they had all been graded, Evan’s teacher asked them to do something.
“If you think you did really well on that test, stand up.”
All boys stood up. Evan did not.
He’s always struggled in math. He’s gotten extra learning support. He’s had aides help him. But, it wasn’t uncommon for math homework to end in tears. It’s never just come to him, and he knows it.
“Evan, you don’t want to stand up?” She asked him.
He shrugged his shoulders and looked away, assuming that this test was like the others.
“Everybody sit down. . . Evan, stand up.”
I wish I could have seen his face as he stood and as she told him that he and a girl in the class were the only ones to get every. question. right. I wish I could have seen his smile when he heard her words and realized that he had gotten it.
I’m glad he got to see my face as he told me, because I think my face looked a lot like his when he experienced it himself.
Past performance is the best predictor of future behavior.
I took the Psych classes. I know that’s true. But, I also know that we can be free from past performance, that we can claim confidence in change.
It’s only a math test, one of many, I know. But, it’s a moment he won’t forget, the day he learned he isn’t bad at math, the day he learned that he can do this, that he isn’t marked as a kid who doesn’t get it, that he isn’t stuck and entrapped by what has been. It was the moment he saw hope in what is and what could be. There’s hope for great things, and he saw in that moment that we aren’t going to be surprised at all when we get to see those great things happen.
