QuentinJuly 2, 2007by Cal Lanier"Quentin" attends one of the finest Bay Area high schools. A junior, he's retaking Geometry because he was flunking Algebra II--even though he'd already passed Geometry. He flunked Spanish II. He can't write an essay because he doesn't really try. He hates school. He has no desire to go to college. Quentin does have a father who cares passionately about his son’s education and who has kept his son in school with adequate grades using a combination of sticks and carrots. Quentin never appeared to be paying attention in ACT class, although he was required to sit front and center. I’d be privately amused at this large, black youth (think Ronnie Lott, not Forrest Whittaker), often wearing a large parka with the hood up, looking down at nothing or watching me dispassionately. Live the stereotype, kid. His intelligence was immediately obvious, if unusual. We fell into a routine when I set the students working individually in English, reading, or science. I'd come up to him and ask why he wasn't working, he'd tell me he was done, I'd look at his work, and it was either all or nearly all correct. The student next to him was on the second question, so copying wasn't even a consideration. I'd say "Great! Check your work. You missed two." and come back in five minutes to see that he'd caught and corrected the errors. In math, however, whenever I assigned a problem, Quentin would sit silently inactive unless I stopped by and handed him his pencil with a grin. "I don't know how to do it." "So figure it out, or even estimate. Step one: pick up the pencil. Step two: read the problem." Sometimes, he'd read the problem and say "Oh", casually circling the right answer. Sometimes he’d scrawl a simple calculation and then circle the right answer. Other times he had no idea, but would grasp the problem with just a few words of instruction. From what I can tell, Quentin runs his intellectual life by the 3-second rule: he'll think about a problem for 3 seconds. If he doesn't get it, he moves on. Thing is, though, he can get a hell of a lot done in 3 seconds. He blasted from a 14 to an 18 on his second practice test, increasing his performance on all four sections by a total of 15 points. His Science score was a phenomenal 21, the second highest achieved in the class at that time. I smacked him over the head when I handed back his second test--he looked at me, shocked, until he saw my smile. During class that day, I saw him surreptitiously peek at his score now and again, and later ask me what a "good" score was. The next class, I overheard the tutoring coach speaking sternly to Quentin. The gravamen of the charge was that Quentin didn't try and wasn't applying himself. The tone in Quentin's voice as he responded, "I am trying. I did great on the last test" will stay with me for a long time. He wasn't whining. He was puzzled. Wasn't he doing well? Didn't this test prove it? The tutoring director, an involved, caring coach, blew right on by that saying "Yes, but you could do better if you just showed up on time and paid more attention..." and I thought to myself how completely she'd missed the point, despite meaning well. When Quentin didn't show up the next two weeks, I was terrified that he'd given up, but fortunately (ha) there had just been a death in the family. He attended two more sessions, but missed the last two tests. In all, Quentin missed four classes, more than any other student. Despite this, I was certain he'd do well on the actual test. I was hoping for a 19, but would have been satisfied, given the missed classes, if he'd held on to the 18. I didn’t see Quentin again for over a month, but finally caught him at the center and inquired about his test scores. "Not good. I only got a 20." "A TWENTY??” "You said in your note I could get a 23. I tried really hard, but I couldn’t make it.” "I said in my...the note?" "The one in the bag." I had written all the students a private note reminding them of their goals, which the tutoring director had placed in their “goodie bags” for Test Day. My note to Quentin said that he should shoot for a 23 on the science section. “Quentin, I am absolutely stunned. That’s an incredible, fantastic score for you.” “I didn’t get a 23.” "Well, what’s that tell you? Next time, get your butt to every class. But relax. You did a phenomenal job.” "Really?" "Promise." Quentin's 20 was the fourth highest class score. He scored a 23 in both English and math (roughly 540 on the SAT). His 17 in reading (420) has a way to go, but given his 3-second rule, it’s an impressive start. Science, his strongest subject in class, was a much lower 15--probably due to the mental exhaustion of the first three quarters of the test. Had he scored as well in the real test as in practice, he would have had a 21 composite. To put Quentin's accomplishment in perspective--which means looking at scores based on race and academic preparation:
Like I said: he hates school, and doesn't want to go to college. In an earlier era, Quentin could succeed in a number of jobs where his smarts wouldn’t need to spend four years in college. In today's world, college remains his best bet. Despite his impressive performance, he’s not ready for college. He needs a year of basic instruction in composition, reading comprehension, and preparation for college algebra. He does not need to waste time pretending to take Spanish 2 or Physics or Algebra II. Sending him to college after another year of fake instruction is setting him up for failure. Given the mismatch between Quentin’s academic record and his ACT score, his father should be able to demand some concessions from the outstanding local school which has mishandled this kid abominably (and refuses to adequately observe his IEP). Building on his ACT success would be a great way to start. I keep coming back to this: he read, remembered, and acted upon my note. Despite his general disinterest in academics, he busted his ass on the test. That's the way in--activate his competitive instincts to seek out success in an academic task with an objective metric that doesn’t require a teacher’s approval. I hope to be working with him this summer, teaching him other 3 second methods and maybe coaxing him into extending his thinking time a few nanoseconds or more. Moving from the individual to the general case, Quentin’s achievement raises another issue: Bright underachievers with mediocre academic records aren’t always the well-read, intuitive, intellectually curious slackers that constitute my demographic speciality--that is, underachieving suburban white boys. The typical white male underachiever is interested in his own big questions, often enjoys thinking and writing, and is plagued only by certainty that he's much smarter than the teacher. Consequently, a kid like Quentin with a highly concrete intelligence often goes unrecognized, certainly to himself. Quentin packs some serious wattage, yet seems entirely unaware of it. How many other Quentins are missed?
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