Our students attend classes on what is known as an alternating even-odd schedule. Because we offer seven classes per year, students attend their first block every day for fifty-five minutes. Blocks 2-3, 4-5, and 6-7 run opposite each other on even-odd days to ensure those classes have the same amount of instructional time as our five required lunch shifts weave through them. It can become quite complicated. We have so many lunch shifts due to COVID-19 regulations requiring all students to remain six feet apart while digesting their lunch. Anyway, I will deal with lunch issues at a different time.

No one will be surprised to discover the student most able to push my buttons to be a member of my first block class - yes, the one that meets every, single day. From day one, Rayshawn sashayed into class, music blaring from his earbuds (can you spell d-e-a-f?), loudly asking permission to leave before he ever got settled, and smiling from ear to ear. Mostly, he did not have his school-issued Chrome book through which all instruction, interactive notes, homework, and assessments are conducted. There are no other means by which a student can be successful in a class.

After observing Rayshawn's wanton disruption of our class over several more days, I invited Rayshawn into the hallway for the proverbial "Come to Jesus" meeting where the rubber meets the road.

"Mrs. Holland, Mrs. Holland. I know what you're going to say!"

"Okay. Tell me."

"You're going to ask me why I can't get to class on time with my Chrome book charged and get right to work."

"Rayshawn, that's a pretty good assessment. Why don't we start there?"

"Well, you, see, I have ADHD and I can't help myself."

"Rayshawn, that's such a ..."

"No, for real, Mrs. Holland. I swear I do," he said as he interrupted me.

"Rayshawn, stop and listen to me for a second. Sweetheart, I knew five minutes after I met you we were kindred spirits."

"OMG! Are you saying you have ADHD, too?"

"Yes, I am. Now suppose I came to class and acted like I couldn't control what I do? Instead, I take 40 mg of Vyvanse every morning before I come to work. Trust me, my family says you do not want me to come to work if I miss 3-4 days in a row."

Incredulous, he asked, "You take Vyvanse, too? I take 60 mg a day."

I refrained from questioning the last time he had taken any. I was positive it was not during the current school year. Asking about a student's medication is highly disdained, as well as illegal in the Commonwealth of Virginia.

We chatted a bit more about our need for him to get to class on time with his Chrome book charged, his earbuds out, his music off, his phone up, and ready to work. I reminded him the purpose of my being in the Algebra classes was to assist students, including him.

Several days later, Rayshawn was at his Energizer Bunny best. After correcting him for the third time in a little more than five minutes, I reminded him there were other students in the class who were trying to learn. As I began to walk away from him, Rayshawn began to wave his hand frantically. I tried to ignore him but he was not to be denied.

"Yes, Rayshawn," came out sounding way more exasperated than I meant, but less than I felt, I must admit.

With the soulful eyes of a fifteen-year-old young man looking straight at me, he exposed his heart in front of his peers by quietly asking, "Mrs. Holland, do you even like me?"

As tears stung my eyes, I slowly closed the distance between us so I could look him straight in the eyes when I responded. "Rayshawn, not only do I like you, I love you. I will have your back when you are right and I will correct you when you are wrong - just like family. That's how much I not only love you but all of my students."

You can have heard a cotton ball drop. Then a student from the other side of the room spurted out, "What just happened?", and the moment was gone.