drool (in a severe SBH classroom)

I woke up my ninth grade student today after he had fallen asleep. I convinced myself that if I reached out to engage him, he would be thankful for having not missed a page of the story we just started. The odds were against me, as they always are with the population I work with. But I went in determined to make that difference.

When he lifted his head, he was shocked at the stretched saliva dangling from his mouth to his sleeve.

"What is that?" he asked.

"Drool, DaWayne."

"No. It's not. You're fucking with me," he stated definitively.

My cleanly OCD response was, "No. I don't fuck around when it comes to drool."

And with that, a tissue was given and the story continued.

DaWayne passed the quiz at the end of the class.


I am making a difference.
I am making a difference.
I am making a difference.