Adios to MASA

I'm behind, but I figure better late than never.

Although the trip up to the Bronx to volunteer at MASA (Mexican American Student Association) was time-consuming, I was sorry to see it come to an end with the end of the school year. Every Wednesday during the academic year, I'd spent two hours helping Henry and Yancy, both fourth graders, with their homework. Both are great kids, but Henry and I really bonded. He and I were paired up from the beginning, and I ended up with Yancy more or less by default a few months into the program. 

The program directors matched me with Henry because he was having trouble with reading, and I was so dismayed by his poor skills that I presented his case to my boss, knowing that he is a softy. Sure enough, after a ten-minute conversation he was insisting that we assess Henry free of charge. We ended up diagnosing dyslexia and MASA is working to use our report to demonstrate that the services the school is providing to Henry are inadequate (which they are) and to demand better reading instruction for him.

Yancy is a disciplined student. She isn't as quick a thinker as Henry, but she was very motivated throughout the year to get her work done thoroughly. She was often annoyed when I wouldn't explain everything to her, however, and seemed resentful when I presented only part of the solution (I could retire tomorrow if I had a dollar for every time she helplessly sighed, "I don't get it."), only to beam a mega-watt smile when she suddenly figured something out on her own. Henry, on the other hand, needed very little help with the concepts he was supposed to master. His challenge lay in getting the words off the pages, something he lacked the reading skills and patience to do without help. I often read material to him (after which he had no trouble answering even the trickiest comprehension questions), and we started off every writing assignment by brainstorming words he might want to use so I could write a list he could use to help with spelling. 

While each kid caused me to grind my teeth at different times for different reasons during the year, I was sorry that I wasn't going to be able to work with them during their fifth grade year. I sat them down in May and told them I was moving to Colorado, and while Yancy showed nothing more than polite interest, Henry scowled at the floor. "That's sad," he finally mumbled. I hastily explained that we needed to figure out how to stay in touch with each other. I suggested email, but both kids seemed unmoved by this (likely because I don't think either one has a computer at home). They lit up when I suggested postcards.

Meanwhile, the end of the year was fast approaching. Tutors are not supposed to buy gifts for students, but I figured that since my time with the program was over I might as well break some rules. I went to an art store and bought sketch pads and colored pastel pencils, since they both love drawing. Before they went home that day, I gave them their presents, as well as cards I'd written and a few stamped envelopes with my address on them. I have already received a letter (with such poor spelling that I can hardly read some parts of it) and a drawing from Henry.

Henry's mother, who is a lovely, sweet lady, brought me flowers, which Henry as very excited to give to me. He was sad at the end of the day and must have hugged me about 20 times. "I'm very sensitive," he told me a bit brusquely, trying to smile but not really pulling it off. 

I had decided sometime in early spring that I liked Henry too much not to see him again, though, so with his older sister as a translator I exchanged phone numbers with his mom and got her permission to take Henry and his sister or a friend on an outing or two during the summer. I proposed kayaking, rock climbing at my gym, a movie, a museum, or the zoo. Henry listened to all of the choices and announced that he wanted to do everything. Next weekend will be my first free one in a while, so I'm going to get in touch to see if I can take him somewhere on Saturday.