My Toughest Student

My toughest student? I’ll call him Thomas. Tommy. Tom Tom. Whatever. He had so many names it was tough to keep up. I would also apply the word “tough” to his classroom presence. Hardly ever in his seat. If the teacher said, “Let’s sit on the carpet.” Tom Tom would run to get a drink from the classroom water fountain. Did I mention he kicked me in the shin once?

What made him a tough one to teach is that my experience was in a private Christian school with rules, and rule followers. There were no shin-kickers in my previous school. Now, I was a building sub that would fill in for the class paraprofessional or for the teacher.

But here's the thing—my toughest student ended up being my greatest teacher.

First, patience. Not the "count to three" kind, but the "count to a zillion" kind. Every day was a new adventure. There was little chance of a compliant reply. But I eventually got used to the idea that Tom Tom lives in a different world and I was to help him in that world. Also, I was getting my steps in when I chased him around the cafeteria. He was the guy that taught me the word “elope” when it was used in the school setting.

Second, flexibility. Sometimes learning looked like solving a math problem with Legos or turning a phonics lesson into Play-Doh practice. I learned to meet him where he was —with creativity, not control.

And finally, joy. That kid reminded me that learning should be purposeful but enjoyable as well.  Somewhere between the interruptions and the breakthroughs, I started smiling more and remembering why I became a teacher in the first place.

My toughest student didn’t just challenge my experiences — he stretched my heart. And I’m grateful. Because in the end, I didn’t just teach him. We learned from each other.

Thanks, Tom Tom.