Elijah

Please note: As to protect his privacy, Elijah is not the given name for the child being described…

Elijah is easily one of the most likeable third graders you will ever meet. Most days, at the tutoring program I lead, he is the first kid to arrive, eager to help, smiling, sunny and quick to give an update on all of the other kids who eventually make their way into the library. He is popular with classmates and tutors alike. Adding to his charm, he is a good four or five inches shorter than the class average; what he lacks in stature, he makes up for with charisma.

The other day, Elijah was absent and other kids had reports he was at school but left early. Later that week I asked him about his absence and told me his mom picked him up because she lost one of her jobs. He very proudly told me she still had her night job (whatever that is) but she won’t be a nurse (her day job?) anymore. He kept his smile up, but it seemed fairly obvious this wasn’t a good thing for his family.
As we starting working through the kids’ homework, I ended up working with Elijah. His main assignment was a page of converting; gallons to pints, pints to quarts, millimeters to meters, hectograms to grams and a bunch of information deep within the foggiest regions of my memory. We trudged along, but honestly I think I was making matters worse teaching him a method far different than the one his teacher had.

Somewhere in between the quarts, meters, cups, and decimeters, I noticed Elijah eyes’ were watering which surprised me as I have always known him to be a very well-adjusted nine-year-old. In fact, I asked him if he had allergies or if there was something in his eyes believing him not to be prone to crying. But, this only made dear Elijah cry worse, in the brave, strong trying not to cry way that only macho little boys can. With all of my heart, I wanted to cry alongside Elijah, but like him, knew I had to fight off the tears.