Louis W. is 13 years old.
Three weeks ago, Louis W. did not know that 3-2=1.
Now, he better know that 3+6=9 and that 2+5=7 or else I will make him rewrite it 3 more times.
He also knows that LOUIS x 1 = LOUIS and that 1,234,567,890 x 0 = 0.
In short, I hope he is no longer afraid of numbers.
Right off the bat, he was my troublemaker. Leaving breakfast wrappers on the table, pretending to sleep during lessons. Telling everyone that he was going to murder them. That he needed some more crack.
During a round of Yu-Gi-Oh, I noticed that he was having trouble calculating his life points. I decided to ask him if he wanted to practice math with me after camp. I figured I would atleast make him the offer, and didn't expect him to take it because I am much to cynical and judgmental.
His reply: "Yeah, can we start tomorrow?"
In my worst moments, I find myself exasperatedly asking myself why I bother. Because he's not going to graduate from high school. Because everyone else in the neighborhood expects him to be in a gang, to deal drugs. Because college is laughably out of the question. Because he's going to end up in jail.
Because he told me, "Nobody teaches me."
But it's difficult to think that when as I work out problems, he moves in closer.
It's difficult to think that when I see him call out answers without using his fingers.
It's difficult to think that when he came in for tutoring even though he missed a whole day of camp.
Change is draining, but cynicism even more so.
