“We need to judge less and understand more.”
― Mitta Xinindlu
My new advisee, Jeff, came to Metro in a cold November. He walked into my first hour Language Arts class wearing a heavy winter coat. It was zipped up with the hood pulled over his eyes. He carried a small spiral notebook with the wire partly unwound and the cover creased and worn. He held it like it was a winning lottery ticket.
I introduce Jeff to the class the class and tell him that he can just hang his coat on a hook on the wall or on the back of his chair.
He sits, ready to work, but the coat stays on the next day, the next week.
I ask to see some of the work in his notebook. He writes poetry about sitting in his room listening to music, about he and his mother moving in with his grandparents and how he shares a room with his cousin, about walking to school, cracks in the sidewalk, the sounds of traffic and barking dogs. I tell him how much I like it. He seems pleased.
Finally one day in class I decide to be assertive about the coat. “Would you just take off that coat, Jeff,” I demand.
Jeff looks genuinely surprised. “Why?”
I sputter the first thing that comes to mind. ”You might catch cold when you go outside.”
Denise looks up. “I don’t think that’s a scientific thing. I mean it’s kind of a weirdo idea.”
I look at her multiple earrings, nose ring and arms loaded with noisy bracelets
Everyone is now watching Jeff, Denise and me.
This is not a battle I choose to fight, so I say, “You’ve got a point there, Denise. Let’s all get back to work.”
Days pass and I decide to forget about the coat thing. I figure warm weather will take care of it naturally. Besides he isn’t the only one who wears a coat or jacket inside. Maybe it is shyness or some deep psychological issue. Or maybe it’s because we don’t have lockers in which to hang them.
I want to meet Jeff’s mother and let her know how Jeff is adjusting to Metro.
When I tell Jeff about the home visit he says, “Are you going to tell her about my coat fetish?”
“Very funny, Jeff.”
I mention in our Friday Staff meeting that I am going to visit Jeff and ask for any feedback about how he is doing. They are all impressed with how quickly he made up for having started the term so late. Scott talks about Jeff’s writing, especially his poetry. All of it good news to take to his mother.
Jeff’s grandparents’ house is white with paint peeling under the windows. I climb the three steps, knock on the door of the screened porch and wait. No one appears and it looks like the doorbell is through the porch by the front door so I make my way through toys and furniture and ring the bell. I can hear a dog barking and a TV blaring. Finally Jeff appears.
“Hi Mary. Come on into the dining room. Mom’s at the neighbors.” He looks at me and grins. “I can hang up your coat for you.”
“Got me on that one.. No need. I’ll be fine.”
I follow him through the living room where a TV blares at empty chairs and sofa.
The dining room is large and it serves as an extension of the kitchen. That is, there is a table on one side and a refrigerator on the opposite wall. Cupboards and countertops fill in the spaces. Five people sit around the table. The smell of coffee and cigarette smoke fills the air.
“This is my advisor and English teacher, Mary,” He waits while nearly all of them all look up. Then he goes around the table saying their names or relationship. Most respond with a nod or a wave. “That’s my grandpa and grandma and there’s Jenny. She’s a cousin and so’s Arnie. And that over there is my Uncle Cletus.”
Grandpa takes a sip of his coffee and says, “What kinda trouble is he in?”
“Oh, none. He’s really doing well. I mean, he had a lot to catch up and he’s been…” Jeff interrupts me to say he is going to get his mother.
“I want her to hear the good stuff.”
I walk over to the refrigerator and lean casually against it. Grandma offers to get me some coffee. I thank her and say lamely, “Not right now.” They go back to their conversation. I am about to grab a chair and join them when I hear a sound. Jeff’s uncle is tapping the table with a lighter. Then he suddenly jumps up and shoots like bungee jumper across the room.
“You’re a teacher. Huh?” It is more of a challenge than a question.
He is shorter than I am, and he does a little dance and pushes his finger at my sternum. Then he takes a drag off of the cigarette in his left hand, expands his chest as he prances back a few steps.
“What good are poems gonna do?: Huh? Huh? You gotta take care of yourself. Like me. I didn’t get no visits from no teacher. I just got my ass into the Navy. I knew how to take care of myself. Yeah. Like that time I was back on leave.”
He looks at the group around the table. They just stare into their coffee cups. Jenny and Arnie look like they’re trying not to laugh.
Grandpa stands up.
Cletus continues. “I was just nineteen and that ass hole across the street said I couldn’t park my car in front of his house. I told him what he could do to hisself and where he could go and he just got madder. He went over and got a stick so I ran to my car to get my gun…”
Cletus is so stirred up, his head looks like one of those booble heads. I am afraid he’ll start pummeling me but then I see grandpa has walked over to us. He puts his hand on Cletus’ shoulder, “Dammit Cletus!”
Cletus stops, sputters, turns and goes back to the table and sits with his head down.
Just then a pleasant faced woman comes into the room with Jeff. She’s wearing a large man’s shirt and jeans. Her smile breaks through the tension in the room.
“This is Sally. My mom,” He looks at me plastered to the refrigerator door and Cletus slumped at the table.
Quickly I tell her the good news about Jeff in my class and in school generally.
Sally beams. “I never had any school people tell me such nice things. Usually it’s all about how my kids are getting in trouble with their work or other things.”
As we talk I can’t help but keep an eye on Cletus. He just sits smoking and drinking his coffee while we chat.
Jeff volunteers that he is working on a report in science about snakes.
I see Cletus’s feet are beginning to twitch. “Snakes! What the hell! I’m the expert on snakes here. I could tell you…”
“Dammit Cletus,” Grandpa says with a good solid slap on the tabletop.
After that Cletus sits quietly, eyes glazed.
Sally tells me how I had just made her day and says I should come back any time. Jeff offers to walk me to the door.
We walk past the blaring tv in the living room, and I step on a child’s squeeky toy. I apologize to the toy and Jeff and I start to laugh. By the time we get to the front porch steps are still chuckling. Jeff sits on the top step and I plop down next to him.
“That Uncle Cletus.” He says. “He used to write poetry. He showed me some once. Don’t tell him I told you. He’d kill me.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t”
Jeff bobs his head and I picture Cletus, head bobbing as he jumps and jabs. I start to chuckle again.
“I didn’t think he’d go off like that. Maybe I should have warned you about Uncle Cletus.”
I thought about that. “No, probably not. I’ll number him among life’s most interesting characters.”
Just then a cool wind blows across us. I zip up my coat and pull the hood up.
“See you Monday, Jeff.”