“Can I help you find a room?” I asked the sparkly clean but perplexed 6th grader who was wandering the halls at a strange time.
He pulled out the paper with his new schedule, transliterated from computerese into sixth-gradish. “I’m looking for Mr. Nelson’s room,” he said pointing to the class he was looking for.
“Oh, his room is there, ” I replied pointing, “but that class isn’t now. You should be in the gym for PE.”
“But I just came from there,” he said, brow wrinkled.
“Just go back and tell Mr. V you should be there now. He’ll understand. It’s why only 6th graders come on the first day,” I said encouragingly, and smiled.
Off he went.
And then he was back.
This time, though, I had my elective class was in my room. I brought the young man in and we began what looked like a “Who’s on first” comedy routine.
In the end, we figured it out. He’d gotten a bit ahead of the schedule, so I sent him on his way. I saw him later, coming out of Mr. Nelson’s room at the right time.
“How’s it going?” I asked.
“I got this now!” he replied over his shoulder as he walked confidently down the hall to his next elective.
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