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"Good morning, Miss Donovan," Callie says, her smile tiny, almost nonexistent. I wonder if the little girl had woken up cranky. "I don't take my classes here," she informs me, with a little frown crossing her forehead.
I give her another smile.
“I didn't know that. Where do we head to?"
"The den." She says this and begins to move towards the stairs. I pack up and hurry after her. She pushes one of the doors open and steps in.
The den is a beautiful small room that houses a desk and a chair. As I look around, I realize that the den has been personalized with drawings that look like Callie's. There are even a few of her drawings that she did back in my class.
"Is this your favorite room?" I ask, already guessing the answer.
"It is," Callie answers, looking a bit more relaxed than she had been downstairs. "I love it here."
"I can see that," I observe as Callie moves forward and settles on one of the chairs.
I bring out the books once more and drop them on the table as Callie relaxes in the old but comfortable chair. The setting is a little more informal than the norm, but I do not mind one bit.
"Now, can you tell me where your last tutor stopped?"
"They didn't cover a lot. I didn't understand what they were saying half the time anyway."
"So, would you like us to start over?"
"If it's not too much trouble," Callie says politely.
"I don't mind at all. That's what I am here for." I inform Callie. I am getting paid to impart knowledge and never want her to lose sight of that.
"Why don't we start with social studies?"
"Sure," Callie answers as I begin to walk her through the topic for the day.
Thirty minutes into the lesson, I notice Callie beginning to yawn. After it happens again for the third time, I close the book and turn to the little girl.
"Are you alright?"
"Do I look like I'm not?"
I'm a little startled by her curt reply and wonder if Callie's wording was intended to be rude. But then again, I know better than to assume that.
"I need to know that you are alright and still paying attention. We can do something else for a while if you are no longer digging this," I tell her.
Callie giggles and wriggles her hands a little anxiously as she reveals, "I am getting a little bored."
"Well, that’s not the strangest thing to happen. I get bored sometimes too.” I tell her.
There's something I've always used to get my students on my side. It’s the fact that I’m never afraid of being vulnerable with them. I let them know that, even though I am their teacher, I am human first and have weaknesses just like they do. It has always worked, and I never plan to stop.
Callie turns to me, wide-eyed.
"You do?" She asks, her mouth wide open as if she has received top-secret information about me. It's the typical reaction I sometimes get when I reveal certain things to my students.
"Believe it, Callie. Even adults get bored of doing things."
"Did you ever get bored while teaching in classes?"
I think about it for a split second. The truth is, I am never bored when I'm in front of the class teaching. Grading papers, however, did bore the shit out of me. That daunting task always required a mighty level of discipline.
"I was never bored while teaching you guys," I admit.
