The Winning Team

In the beginning, I didn’t treat Danny Buster well because I liked him. I treated him
well, because I kept imagining him machine-gunning the entire 6th hour class to our
deaths. I knew he had an IEP (individual education plan for special needs) connected to
emotional and behavioral issues. That was not a big deal to me, but he was very odd,
seriously outcast and very intelligent. He matched my profile for potential school shooter.
I only knew that he was being raised by his aunt and was ‘dropped’ from attendance for a
couple months mid-year; I’m pretty sure it was a suicide attempt. I could see that his
peers hated him, yes, despised him, had open hostility toward him, and cared not an
ounce for his feelings. Danny had burned any bridge that existed by mercilessly needling
his peers with verbal criticism, constant inane arguing and daily disrupting of lessons. I
was determined to establish a safe place for myself and possibly, if I didn’t trample
students trying to save myself, some of them might survive as well.
Danny was the classic high school “misfit”. He had straight white-blonde bowl cut
hair, large black-rimmed glasses and a pudginess to his pale face and dough boy body.
He was not actually fat. He just lacked definition of any kind. But he was often brilliant.
He would read the month’s assigned novel in a day’s time and pass the quizzes without
effort. He was a thinker and analyzing literature was easy for him. He was undeniably the
most observant boy in the class. There were times I was grateful that someone else in the
room could stimulate my mind and challenge me to consider new angles on a character or
theme. There were also times when I wished he would just shut his mouth for five
seconds. Danny had a pattern of asking questions and spewing facts nonstop in order to
revel in the glory of absolutely any attention he could get. His questions were always
rhetorical and spoken in a scientific nerdy tone. “Did you know, Ms T, that 50% of all
Americans can complete the Rubrics Cube within 3 hours?” He just liked to get me to
connect. He already had an answer. When it came to neediness, this kid was thirsty. He
was a dried out, brittle sponge and each moment I gave him was a single drop of
moisture. There were days when I would tire of giving him individual attention and
wanted to get back to the task at hand – teaching English. When a student asks for
attention the last hour of the long school day, the other students tend to trail off into their
own conversations until you are finished addressing it. It would become a big problem
trying to get the class to stay focused. Eventually, I would look Danny straight in the eye
and say, “We are done now.” To my surprise, Danny would acquiesce with a gentle nod
of understanding. I was hugely relieved to gain this sign of respect. It never ceased to
amaze me that he would push so hard but then adhere to any line I drew, with total
submission. And I slowly came to find Danny tolerable.
This tolerance for Danny wasn’t shared by the other students though. There were
many days I had to referee between Danny’s demands and the devotion of my other
darlings. There were several kids I observed verbally slamming Danny around while
everyone else laughed. Danny wasn’t the only misfit either. This class was riddled with
them. We had six kids who had special needs, two large boys with Aspergers’ Syndrome
and two more boys with learning disabilities, some more obvious than others, and a frail
slutty girl with a brain injury due to a drunk driving accident and re-injured playing
softball, which her mother allowed her to continue playing anyway. I also had numerous
kids who were socially graceful but academically stumbling about due to poor home
situations or overzealous partying. There were two kids with a lot of social power. Nita
and Camron. Nita was a drama queen and demanded attention by coming in late and
talking as loudly as possible about the most shocking events she could muster. Her circle
of loyal friends would appease her by nodding and listening. She shamelessly shared that
the police were at her house for a domestic dispute; she had been suspended for fighting
with another girl; she loved to announce that she slept at her boyfriend’s house on the
weekends. I got the impression Nita’s mom and step-dad were not in control of this child.
Nita was a human tornado, and she had more open hatred for Danny than any of them.
Camron had the passivity of a slug and refused to do anything despite his creative
and amusing mind. He had a very sarcastic dry humor and clearly didn’t know if he liked
me yet. I think Nita and Camron were just as needy as Danny; they just had way more
pride than Danny and a very believable mask to hide their pain. One thing is for sure,
they didn’t like Danny trying to take that mask off and they were willing to shred Danny
in order to protect it. It didn’t take long for all the students to see that both of the social
‘heavy hitters’ were exceptionally bright underachievers. There were an additional couple
of girls who came in 2nd semester from other classes. One had to step down from an
enriched English course, a humbling experience to be sure, and another had risen from
the mortifying “Strategic Reading” class where the ‘dummies’ go. Both girls were
misplaced and it was my job to discreetly help them adjust.
Meanwhile, a smirking Danny would serve a verbal volley to the class and they’d
spike it back with the force of ten. Danny would take it like a cement post. The attention
was intoxicating and he was happy to play it all day long. Still, I sensed that he would
eventually find himself in a game he didn’t really want to play anymore, as he was not
ever going to be on the winning team, the team where there were 30 players against his
solo effort.
One night a friend asked me to go see “Crazy Heart” at the local theatre. We were
getting popcorn and drinks when I noticed Danny over by the straws and napkins stand
about 12 feet away. He saw me for sure (the place was fairly empty) but was pretending
not to have noticed me. I thought that was odd, since Danny usually sought my attention.
Then I looked around some more and realized he was completely alone. He was there
seeing a film by himself. No family, no friend, nobody. I was overwhelmed at that
moment by just how alone he was. I have never in my 45 years of life attended a film
alone. I know some close friends who are happy to go to films by themselves. That’s
cool. But I didn’t get the feeling Danny was choosing to do this alone. I got the feeling he
had no choice at all. He finally said hello as if everything was great. I asked him which
movie he was going to see. I can’t recall what he said, but I recall what he said next,
“Yeah, I already saw two movies and now I’m gonna see a third.” I smiled and said,
“Cool.” I wanted him to think he was something for having the guts to sneak into a
second and third film. However, on the inside, I wanted to cry for this kid who had no
where else to go and no one else to enjoy.
Back in the classroom, I’d thank God for my 20 years of ‘classroom volleyball’ and
the many subtle moves I had learned. Sometimes I’d make a joke that sided with Danny
and he’d smile at me with gratitude. Sometimes I’d openly tease Danny with an air of
affection and the class would be stupified that the woman they seemed to respect was
allowing Satan positive attention. Sometimes I’d go so far as to chastise the kids for
picking on “my wayward Danny”, thus solidifying that I knew he was a mess, but I
would protect him if they pushed it. I also started to make it very clear that Danny was
super smart. Whenever he’d share a thought, I’d make a huge but sincere deal out of how
interesting it was and how fascinating it is to learn what he knows. My students liked me
and they loved attention too. They were learning that the best way to get my attention
was to be nice to everyone in the room, including Danny. I had told them point blank that
any sign of elitism in the class would warrant an “ass kicking’. They knew I wouldn’t
actually hurt them, but they were intimidated anyway. I had no qualms about intimidating
anyone who might bully another student. We also had an ongoing joke about who’d end
up in the book I was writing. They were actually competing about who deserved a spot.
About this time, Danny started staying after school on occasion to visit and make sure his
work was up to speed.
One day, my step-son was waiting for me to wrap things up and head home, and
Danny was hanging out as well. They were both sophomores. They knew who each other
was. I never thought of my step-son as overly popular. He only had one close friend and a
couple oddballs on the fringes. He had his own sort of isolation. Danny and Nate were
speaking to each other and Nate was being open and polite. Danny latched on
immediately and suggested point blank. “Hey, we should hang out after school
sometime.” I stopped typing on my computer. Nate just sat there and said nothing. Total
silence. My heart fell as I watched Danny try to save face in this completely awkward
rejection. I was deeply embarrassed that my own kid was so cold as to reject this poor
boy. I wanted to kick him right in the shin at that moment. I wanted to save Danny from
the pain of being rejected by a boy who barely had any of his own friends. But somehow
I knew that I couldn’t make it better for Danny and I couldn’t force my own kid to accept
him. Openly being friends with Danny Buster was social suicide for a kid like Nate.
But then something started to change in the classroom. This class was seriously
terrified to do oral presentations. The class average for our first speaking assignment was
at a 63% D in the Fall. Due to some serious self-esteem issues in the class overall, I had
to get down to some basics of speaking in a large group; thus, I had a storytelling unit.
The theme of the stories had to be “when you’ve taken a stand or when you wish you
had”. The students sat in a giant circle and remained seated and casually told a story of
when they had to stand up to someone or for something or a time when they regretted
doing nothing. This particular group took some amazing risks. Undoubtedly, the stories
of regret were the most powerful. Some stories were hilarious; some left the speaker all
welled up with pain. The class kept moving through each story intent on listening. Ronnie
Bach, a rather strong girl had asked to sit away from Danny at the start of the year. She
said Danny obsessed about her all last year and it was very uncomfortable. Yet when
Ronnie told her story, she shared how her drunk father left her and her little brother in
Mexico to go on a drinking binge. Her story was detailed and very sad. Ronnie took an
enormous risk and David remained respectfully distanced all year. Ronnie blossomed.
She was embraced by the popular girls and accepted by Nita. Each student came to see
each other as a human being just trying to figure it out like everyone else. They started to
soften. I couldn’t believe my luck. I had the perfect concoction of 30 fucked up kids to
create a beautiful boiling brew with one whole and consistent ingredient every single kid
in that room possessed --compassion for the underdog.
The kids didn’t totally stop picking on Danny, but they started to allow him to be in
their small groups when we’d split off from a large class. They were seeing the benefits
of his intelligence. I knew this was Danny’s one ‘in’. Now he didn’t have to sit there
alone and wait for me to pair him up with someone. Danny was at times far more
capable than the rest. Sometimes Danny was even sort of a tiny bit cool. Luckily, I had
won Nita over when she needed flexibility with late work. She had shared some major
step-dad resentments and I think she respected me most when I told her I didn’t buy her
sob story. I was the only one in the room strong enough to call her on her bullshit.
Camron turned a corner and it was interesting to see how a little attention went a long,
long way with this kid too. I think Nita was screaming for her biological father and
Camron was depressed clear and simple. He had several acquaintances in the classroom
but according to his mom, no one bothered to call him outside of school. Taking away his
social time to motivate him would mean nothing. His mom had gotten him some
counseling and it was truly helping. Finally, in late April, Camron unexpectedly turned
in some work and was actually reading his book.
This class was possibly more affected by Danny’s presence than they could have
ever realized. By the final speaking assignment in the Spring, an infomercial on their
independent reading books, they had risen to a whopping 84% B average. Danny was a
phenomenal speaker. It was humbling to watch the dominant misfit rock at a social skill.
The class even clapped for him. Camron was surprisingly charming, professional and
downright funny. Many of my 6th hour class had become so comfortable, they were no
longer mumbling in shame. They were practically singing their speeches. Turns out Nita
was not as good at speaking on demand. She may not have even honestly read her book.
Ironically, that only leveled the playing field.
Danny’s birthday came in June, and though they did not sing Happy Birthday as
usual, they were willing to give him a hardy. “Happy Birthday Danny!” when I
mentioned it. This made Danny turn red and I could see he was touched by the kindness.
On the last day of classes, and I have done this religiously for 20 years now, I asked
my students to write me a little good-bye note on a half sheet of paper. It still amazes me
how willing they are to fulfill this request. Some rare kids write a giant “good-bye” and
don’t bother to sign it, but 98% of them tend to write some heartfelt stuff that I can take
with me once they move along. There were several that year that touched my heart or
made me laugh out loud, but there was one that will truly be imprinted on my memory.
Dear Ms T,
This year was amazing! I started the year with English as my favorite class and
ended it the same. Although our opinions may have different outcomes, you made a
bunch of high school students feel something other than hatred for each other. Anyone
who can do that deserves a good-bye letter. I can honestly say that I would do anything
for anybody in this room, and so would many other people. I still can’t believe Nita and
Danny are friends. So thank you for everything!
Whitney
It took Danny the entire hour to write his letter. The entire class had finished a good
20 minutes before he even began. I think it was almost too painful for him to say goodbye
to anyone. He did tell me that he was moving away. He would not return as a junior.
I was disturbed by this information and sort of had to hide it so as not to seem more
disturbed than I should be. Danny said his father wanted custody so he didn’t have to pay
child support any longer. I don’t think I have to explain just how sad that is. I told Danny
that I knew if he could live through the next two years, he was going to be truly free and
find true joy. I told him I hoped he would let me know how things are going. And I gave
him my stupid little miniature clay ‘devil’s tower’. I said it reminded me of him and I
wanted him to have it. He said he had no idea what devil’s tower was, so I wrote down
the title of the movie, “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” and told him to watch it and
think of me. He said he would. What can I say? It was all I had on a moment’s notice.
I know I played my part in this experience, but I also know this was a perfect
example of God at work. Every single kid in that class played a part and I was mostly just
lucky to have been there. Danny never did bring a gun to school. He got something a
whole lot better than revenge. He got to be somebody for a short while, not somebody
special, just somebody else on the same team. Whether the team was winning or losing
didn’t much matter.