I Should Have Known

The problem with learning is that it’s a process. One thing builds on the next. It’s pretty hard to draw good conclusions without knowing all the facts.

One example comes from when I was teaching a self-contained class of ESL students. One of my students was the class food thief. Apples, bananas, or whatever snacks were left out, he’d take. He'd swipe them from other students’ desks and stash them in his backpack, which he often forgot to zip. The stolen items would sometimes spill out. He wasn’t a very good thief.

Eventually, it became my routine. I’d walk past his backpack, quietly retrieve the stolen food, and return it without anyone noticing.

To my knowledge, he never stole anything but food.

In time, I came to understand why. The motivation wasn’t mischief. It was hunger. Most of my students lived in poverty, and I began to realize this student may have been going without food at home. It took months to piece it all together. He never shared his story, and I was still a new and a naive teacher trying to figure out the world my students inhabited.

At first, I worried he was headed for trouble or maybe even jail if this behavior didn’t stop. I mean, it’s a well-known fact that a life of crime begins with stealing fruit, right?

But once the lightbulb went off, I changed my approach. I kept food stocked in the classroom and scheduled regular snack breaks. Combined with other student supports, the thefts stopped.

You’d think I would’ve celebrated that small, quiet victory.

Instead, I told myself I should have known.