I gave Elias a significant look. “See? Step back a little when assessing how he’s doing. Don’t look at it day to day. Compared to day one, he’s made a lot of progress. And with a consistent adult in his life supporting him, he’ll only continue to improve.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
SIMONE
Several days being shadowed by his guardian made more of a difference than I’d expected with Jasper. He wasn’t sociable yet, still preferred to keep to himself, but his work was finished consistently and he stopped getting into fights. An entire week went by without incident and when I reported the news to Reagan, she was ecstatic to hear it. She was having less luck with Evan, and she was glad Jasper at least was trying to do better. He’d also consistently done well on the assignments I gave him from the eighth grade math class. Well enough that Reagan and I agreed it was time to test him a little, giving him a trial run in John’s class. John was on board, and I filled him in on everything he needed to know about Jasper, including his guardian’s involvement in his education and willingness to sit in on a class or two to keep Jasper on track if need be. Elias had been informed and gave the thumbs up. The only person I hadn’t cleared it with was Jasper.
“Mr. Reed, stay behind, please. I have something I need to discuss with you,” I called over the noise of the students packingup their bags to move onto their next class. He looked up with a frown, but didn’t argue, hovering by his desk until the class spilled out and we were alone. I gestured to the desk nearest mine so he could sit.
“I didn’t do anything,” he started, already defensive. I ignored the tone, waving away his concern.
“I know. I didn’t ask you to stay behind because you did anything wrong. It’s actually the opposite.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
Pulling out the most recent assignments he’d handed in to me, I offered them to him, pointing out the grades. Slowly, he slid into the seat of the desk I’d gestured to, his brows drawn together tightly. I noted the improvements since his first day, though, his posture less tense and coiled for a fight, the grip on his backpack strap more neutral. Little improvements that made a world of difference when having a conversation with him.
“Have you noticed at all that you’ve been doing different assignments from everyone else?”
The way his face twisted told me the answer even before he shook his head. I nodded, unsurprised given that he still didn’t have friends as far as I was aware. At least not in my class.
“I noticed early on that you show a lot of promise in mathematics. With everything you were going through, I didn’t think it would be a good time to do any official testing. Instead, I offered you some assignments from Mr. Karlsen’s class to see if the material was more at your level.” I gave a significant look at the grades printed at the top. “You know the material already, don’t you?”
Something flickered across his face, a dark cloud that told me this was a more sensitive subject than I’d first thought. To my surprise, he didn’t just push the papers away and act like it was nothing. He explained himself instead.
“Mama was a math professor. She started teaching me math when I was Isla’s age. I’ve always been good at math,” he grumbled.
It explained a great deal more than just his ability. It all suddenly made a lot of sense. His refusal to participate in my class especially, feigning ignorance on assignments I now knew were too easy for him. It all connected to his mother, and indirectly to her death. It made math a sore subject for him.
My tone was softer, more soothing, when I told him, “She did an amazing job teaching you. You’re advanced enough that I’d like to do a trial run with you joining Mr. Karlsen’s class during math.” He was shaking his head before I finished the sentence. I pushed a little. “Can I ask why?”
“Mama and Mom both said they didn’t want me advancing grades. They said my social development was just as important as intellectual stuff. They wouldn’t want me to switch.”
Pursing my lips, I thought about how to approach the subject. While I understood, and on some level agreed, with his mothers’ approach on his education and development, I wasn’t sure they’d stick to that mindset at his age. “Your moms wanted you to grow with your peers, and that was important when you were younger. If it were me, I probably would’ve done the same thing. But you’ve been developing socially for years. You’re more than ready to handle the challenges of a more advanced course load and development at your age isn’t as strictly tied to age grouping like it is in elementary school.”
“It’s not?” He looked confused, but not outright against the idea.
“It’s really not. Besides, a year difference isn’t something to worry about. You won’t lose anything they valued about your upbringing. Using that skill that your mother developed since you were a toddler will only be building on their values, not taking away from them.”
He looked down at the papers, then back up at me. For the first time since he arrived in my class, he looked truly vulnerable, his eyes searching mine for answers I knew he wished he could get from the women who raised him. I pressed my lips together, raising my eyebrows at him.
“I can’t tell you what they’d say or do if they were here, I didn’t know them like you did, but I can tell you that if your mothers were around, I’d be having this exact conversation with them. I’d explain things in the exact same way. You tell me, how would they respond?”
The question made him thoughtful and his eyes darted back and forth as he tried to imagine the conversation with his mothers present. When he finally looked back at me, his expression was more confident. “Mama always said education was important. If I wanted to be a good member of society, I had to work hard in school. I don’t think she would ignore a teacher saying I’d do better in another class.”
I dipped my chin in agreement. “Knowing you as long as I have, I have to imagine they were smart women. I think they’d be the type to give it a trial run at the very least. So what do you think? Are you willing to spend a week with Mr. Karlsen? See if you fit in well there?”
He nodded again, more determined now. I thought maybe by bringing his moms into the conversation and asking what he’d think their opinions would be, it helped with his uncertainty. Gave him a little more confidence knowing he was making choices based on what they would’ve wanted. And when he stood, he offered me a hand to shake like a proper gentleman. I bit back a laugh, standing and shaking his hand.
“Thank you for listening, Mr. Reed. We’ll have you start with Mr. Karlsen on Monday.”
“Thank you, Ms. Brooks,” he said politely, heading for the door. It felt like I was seeing the real Jasper for the first time,more polite and self assured, a young gentleman raised by two women who adored him and taught him well. I had high hopes for his future.
He paused in the doorway, seeming to hover for a second before looking back at me. He looked contemplative, and when I tipped my head at him, waiting for him to speak, he wrinkled his nose. “Do you only tutor older kids?”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “I teach middle school. Who else would I tutor?”
He opened his mouth to respond, then hesitated, that earlier confidence wavering. I pushed just a little. Whatever he wanted to say was important, I could see it on his face. He just needed the confidence to speak without being judged.
