"I'm not telling you it's going to be easy, I'm telling you it's going to be worth it." - Art Williams

(January 25, 2017. 12:10 - 1:45 PM)

Building a tutor-tutee relationship on mutual respect and friendliness is essential to success here. That relationship is the heart of an environment fertile to academic development and personal success. I think today was a step in that direction. 
To show how it was a step forward, I'll take a step back (ha!) and start with day one.
Last week, I was clearly an outsider. Students weren't comfortable with me. I was a stranger invading their space, but not just a stranger; I was an outsider. My clothes (and likely my "UGA" identification tag) set me apart. I wore a blouse that clearly belonged in church on Sunday with its plain and billowing maroon fabric. Anyone playing "spot the difference" would have no difficulty seeing I did not belong. While that separation is important for a teacher, I believe a tutor should be closer to belonging. With that in mind, I wore the same nice jeans and boots today with a plain black shirt and a simple (but nearly Sunday) flannel. Perhaps it's confirmation bias, but I think the kids were more accepting. They certainly let me in a little more. I was still a stranger, but less of an outsider. They let me answer their questions, sometimes with prompting but sometimes without. I could begin to tutor.
Three students sat at my table. Energetic Q from last week, confident J, and the brilliant (sassy!) T. They were clearly comfortable with each other as quips and sass flew across the table and friendly verbal scuffles disrupted the multiplication of imaginary numbers. Their willingness to ask questions increased with my laughter at their shenanigans. While T would slide me her work for me to check (she was usually correct), Q would playfully interrupt us with his own questions. After I finished with T's equation, I moved to Q's less correct work. I was understanding, patient (this math is hard!), and a little funny (I hope) and so he asked questions without being significantly hindered by his reservations toward me. This back and forth, always permeated by their delightful dialogue, claimed much of the class. J, who had been so loud and bold at the beginning of class, sat subdued. His head hung low over the table and his frame screamed of a struggle. I delicately asked to see his work. He responded as meekly as any lamb, a quietness and uncertainty replacing the bellowing laugh from before class. As I helped J through his math in a more delicate and sympathetic manner than I had with Q, Q and T (with silent understanding) moved their chairs together and worked as a pair as I worked with J. With some imaginary numbers correctly multiplied and the process written out, J's voice began to regain some of its boyish confidence. It was difficult for me to see someone so intensely humbled (perhaps even humiliated) by their school work. He seemed to appreciate the help with a gravity that was touching in its depth.  
These kids are already working their way into my heart. While it may be challenging to sit in that classroom as students hurl profanities and frustration and make me nervous to have a classroom of my own, these kids will make it worth it.