Learning

My first experience as a tutor was in 7th grade.
It occurred as part of Boston’s Metropolitan Council for Educational Opportunity’s (METCO) afterschool extension program. A METCO counselor was assigned to work with me at the Roxbury Boys and Girls Club where the program took place.

I never forgot how afraid I felt… not smart enough to teach. I feared my counselor would take me off of the project if she felt the same. We had other communities to choose from but I picked my familiar hometown of Roxbury.

By no means was this choice made because of the role of tutor.

Nervous to meet the student and plagued with insecure thoughts, I rehearsed ways to pretend if I could not actually do the elementary school math.

The irony was that I also had a math tutor from the time I was in 4th grade.

I was paired with a 3rd grader named Michael. He was shy with deep chocolate colored skin and endearing eyes that instantly turned my vulnerability to addressing his apprehension. A surprising first sense of empowerment came over me as soon as we were introduced and Michael reluctantly revealed his math worksheet.

Some weight lifted when I noticed where to help him.

Whew…

The second sense of relief and unexpected self-commendation appeared when my counselor told me that the multiplication I showed Michael was correct! I smiled and exhaled quietly (although my exaltation seemed visible to everyone).

I could not believe how prepared I felt that day and carried that beam, my personal triumph, all the way home.

I could not wait to see my student again.
There I was to help Michael and he never knew how guiding him, taught me to trust myself.

I thought about how my parents’ decision to place me in Newton through METCO was working. I was appreciative of this ingenious exchange and wondered if my choice (to tutor) was engineered for me to believe I was making the choice or intentionally framed to help me with my math anxiety. Regardless, I was already being taught about who I was as a learner and enjoying it.

That experience receded in my memory until many, many years later when I began volunteering as a reading tutor at the William Monroe Trotter public school in Roxbury, MA. My son attended that school for 1st and 2nd grade.

When kids asked my son’s teacher if they could be chosen to read with me, Michael’s eyes and a reciprocal relationship like that first tutoring session kicked in like muscle memory. Entrustment came to life with the Trotter students, (and my son of course) lasting beyond my two years there.

These indelible revelations propelled me to change careers and earn a Masters to teach. Those cherubs are alive within me daily. They are precious touchstones that keep me completely present whenever I witness a child awaken to learn.

Tahira K.E. Wilson-Guillermo