Last year, I had the honor of being a student teacher for a first grade class. I learned so much from these six and seven year olds, but there was one child in specific who taught me loads about “ADHD” and what it's like to be considered different for something he can’t control.

There was a little boy named Harry (name changed). Harry’s desk was pushed back, away from the other desks that were in groups of four. When a group assignment came along, he was to work with a teacher, not any of the students. He had a 20 pound weight vest that he was to wear when he was “acting up”. When the class went to the carpet for story time, he had his own little chair to sit in, he wasn’t allowed to sit on the carpet with the rest of the kids.

My first few weeks as their student teacher, I was afraid to interact with Harry. I, a 19-year-old high school senior, was intimidated by a six year old. I knew this was silly, but everyone else treated him differently, and I followed suit without much thought. When he raised his hand, I would go to him, but other than that, I avoided his corner.

One day, I had to take the kids out to the hall and have them count to 120. Most of the kids did alright, taking about three minutes to do the task. Most of them got lost around 60 and then trailed off after they hit 100. When Harry came out, he didn’t sit down in the chair I provided for the kids. Instead, he stood and bounced on his heels. I asked him to count and he complied. He counted at a steady beat and never got tripped up. He counted to 120 within a minute and a half. He was bouncing the whole time. I was impressed, as I thought he was more challenged than the other kids due to how he was treated in the classroom.

I decided to do an experiment with Harry. I praised him and asked him if he could sit down and do it again for me. He sat down and began counting again. He trailed off numerous times, looking at all the kids who passed by, the posters on the wall, and he stopped to comment on my shirt. He made it to 40 before he gave up and told me that he wanted to go back in the class. I let him go back in, but I stood in the hall for a moment in amazement. Here I was, thinking he was less than, like he was stupider than the rest, when he just proved to me that he was just as smart, if not smarter.

I watched Harry closer after that. I noticed that when he raised his hand in class, he was bouncing his leg. When he was writing, he constantly was leaning his head side to side. When he was reading, he had to have a pencil in his hand. I decided to make Harry my little guinea pig for a few days. When I took him back for a one-on-one reading session, I let him sit in the teacher’s chair like the other kids got to. He got a huge smile on his face and read better than he ever did before. I let him take off his weight vest when he was writing and he was able to focus much better than most of the other “normal” kids in the class.

Because of the way he was treated in class, the other kids treated him as if he was below them. When I was at his desk helping him spell, the nearby students would tell me that he could just take their answers -- as if he was incapable of figuring it out on his own. I could tell that the students’ behavior towards him was upsetting. He didn’t have many friends, which was understandable, as he was forced to sit away from everyone else.

I went from being intimidated of Harry to him becoming one of my most admired children. Everyday, I would sit next to his chair when the rest of the kids were on the carpet for story time. I always waved goodbye to him when I had to head to my next class. I told him how smart he was every time he finished an assignment. When I first met him, he was shy and cowered away from people who wanted to help him. Near the end of the year, he would give me hello and goodbye hugs. He raised his hand more often than he did at the beginning of the year. He was still forced to wear his weight vest and sit away from the rest of the kids, but I could tell that the small changes that he had during one-on-one time helped him.

I don’t want to take all the credit, as first grade is a huge year for development. But I do know that my encouragement helped him realize that he wasn’t as stupid as he was treated. Just thinking back on Harry makes me smile and I pray everyday that second grade is treating him how he deserves to be treated -- like a smart child who just needs to bounce his leg sometimes.