Paper Basketball

Every day when I have 6th grade math I go through the same Victor-related ritual, the paper basketball.

Victor is new to our school, and comes off very tough.  He certainly knows how to bully and act like a thug, but see, I know that's not the real him.  He's creative, he likes all things artistic.  He's good at it too, art.  Hiding it with swagger is a defense mechanism.  When he was in drama club with me, I got to know Victor better.  That kid certainly is a bit of a drama king too, he craves attention, often blurting things out across the room just to get it.  Plus, he likes the looks I throw when he does it.  A former theater buff myself I know how to play to my audience.

One of his attention grabbing tactics is his paper basketballs.  In the middle of group work time Victor used to make an excuse to visit the bathroom, now it's a long, drawn-out trip to the garbage can.  After ripping a piece of paper out of his notebook, he will use grandiose gestures to smash it into a ball.  Then there is a show of pushing his chair back and sauntering to the garbage can.  When he is about four feet away, he stops.  He makes like he is about to launch the paper basketball for a three-point shot.  I raise my eyebrows and clear my throat.  He glances back at me, takes a step closer, and waits.  Standing there, glancing at me, supposedly poised to bank his "basketball," I make another utterance.  At this point he steps in closer, yet again, and history repeats itself.  When he gets right next to the trash can I say, "A lay-up Victor, a lay-up, not a three pointer."  Giving in, he shrugs and throws away the paper basketball nonchalantly.  Every day, every day there is some version of this scenario.

When he told me he wanted to be an actor, I responded, "Yeah?  Well, I know you'd be good at it.  You certainly know how to make a scene."