Belinda, like many of my students, had grown up "street smart", with very little use for schools and books. On the first day of school, she called Rory a very bad word, so I kept her in at break. I made her wash all the desks and pick up all the garbage lying around. "That'll teach her," I thought. Belinda, though, was smarter than me. "I like cleaning. Mr. Brassell," she said. "Can I do this every day?"
On the third day, I caught Belinda fighting with Jose. I walked over to their table and asked what the problem was. "She keeps calling me a bad word," Jose said. Belinda wrote standards after school while I gave her another lecture on behavior. The next day, I caught her fighting with Jose again. I shouted angrily across the room to ask why they were fighting. Again, Jose accused Belinda of calling him a bad word. Belinda had finally earned a home visit. I told her that I would walk her home after school and talk to her mother in person.
And for the first time all the week, Belinda became silent. For the rest of the day, she sat still in her chair, even with kids teasing her. "It's not going to work, young lady," I told her. "You already earned a walk home, and behaving now isn't going to change that."
When the final bell sounded, I took Belinda by the hand, and we began the two-block walk to her house. Belinda took me through the gate to her yard and she went inside to get her mother while I waited outside.
Where have you been, girl?" a voice screamed. Babies cried loudly inside.
"My teacher's here," Belinda said softly, and I still couldn't see inside through the front door.
"Hello," a deep voice barked. Then the door opened, and a rather skinny, short woman walked out.
"Uh, I'm Mr. Brassell, Belinda's teacher."
"What'd she done this time?"
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I suddenly decided to try a different approach.
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The next day at school, Belinda gave my knees a big hug.
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