My Turn
Trying To Save Them All

One of the joys of teaching is running into relatives of former students and hearing about their successes. Sometimes, as this California teacher relates, the news isn’t so good.

By Ruben Cueto

Ruben Cueto has taught seventh grade language arts and social studies at Hargitt Middle School in Norwalk, California for seven years. His E-mail address is rubenc49 @aol.com.

My wife made an appointment for me at my local hair salon after work. The day had been uneventful, considering that I teach middle school.

This means no major property damage or unforeseen amputations had occurred in my seventh grade classroom.

Walking into the salon, a woman I didn’t know approached me. She asked me if I was a teacher. She said she recognized me as the teacher of her young cousin. His name was Francisco, though everyone called him Kiko.

My mind hit the rewind button. Kiko was one of those bright kids who thought homework assignments were part of an option package he’d rather pass on. His quick mind and restless spirit made his behavior a challenge.

Still, Kiko was likable, even admirable. I would catch him helping other students with their work, even when he didn’t bother to do it himself. But I never praised him for this. That might have damaged his veneer of coolness.

I remembered one incident in seventh grade. It was time to turn in homework, and Kiko gave his classic “forgot-it-at-home” routine. His parents were aware of his poor work habits, but I felt I had to intervene again. Too much potential was being wasted here.

One evening I drove to Kiko’s house around the dinner hour. Surprise covered his mother’s face when she saw me, but that word doesn’t begin to describe Kiko’s reaction. His face was pale and his arms were swinging back and forth like some early 20th century attempt at flight.

I told his mom that Kiko keeps forgetting the work at home, so I was stopping by to pick it up. There’s no need to describe what happened next. You’ve pictured it already.

Fast forward to some years later. Kiko advanced to high school. I was told he had matured—and was even doing his homework—but that was all I knew. Once students leave the classroom, they drift from our lives like autumn leaves.

Unfortunately, the news I would receive about Kiko would be most unwelcome. He had gone drinking and driving with a cousin during spring vacation. They had a serious auto accident. There’s no need to describe what happened. You’ve pictured it already.

Back to the hair salon, present day, and with Kiko’s cousin. She laughed as I told her of my home visit. That was her cousin alright. I then relayed to her the postscript to my visit that very few people knew about. A couple of days after my surprise visit, Kiko came up to me.

“Why did you do that?” he asked. “Why did you come over my house?”

I remember looking at him as if I were looking at myself.

“Because you’re worth saving, Kiko.”

His cousin then lost her smile. She began to cry. She cried enough for us both. No words came to me. I awkwardly said something to end the conversation quickly and sat to await my haircut. I had made a complete stranger cry.

I sat in the hair stylist’s chair, staring at nothing, staring at everything. I thought about all the things Kiko would miss. I watched my hair fall to the floor, thankful for every student I’ve ever had. I thought about all my former students and the current crop. I thought about tomorrow’s lesson plan. And I thought about who needed saving.

Editor's Note

In the early ’80s, NEA Today regularly carried ads from a company selling grade calculators. I don’t know if the company’s still in business, but my guess is it couldn’t keep up with the sophisticated electronic tools that reside in the working environment of many school staff.

I’m pretty sure that that grade calculator wouldn’t have been able to handle some of today’s grading systems, at least not the one that produced my daughter’s recent mid-term report.

It was an electronic marvel—a two-page print out with rows and rows of raw scores for quizzes, tests, homework assignments, and participation. Each was assigned a certain weight within a category and then a percentage of the total for the subject.

I was tempted to call the teacher to find out what kind of wondrous calculator had produced such a detailed accounting for each of her 30-some history/language arts students. Even if I’d wanted to, there was no way I could have done the calculations to refute the final grade.

Another interesting idea came my way recently by phone. A new start-up company was pitching the value of software that would allow a music teacher to grade student performances on the spot using this company’s software and a hand-held computer.

Instead of slogging through a bunch of cryptic notes, the teacher could just key in an evaluation, then download the notes into the traditional desktop computer. The idea came from a music teacher who’d spent 20 years trying to find an easier way to judge his students’ musical works.

We’re constantly bombarded with information about new products coming to the educational market. Whenever we can we’ll pass along news about some of these new tools in future issues of NEA Today.

—Bill Fischer