The Kid Who Did Nothing With Blocks Except Throw Them at Other Children and Dump Them On the Floor for Two Months Makes the Taj Mahal

Seriously. The first few weeks this child was in my class, I would dazedly stumble into the principal's office, croak out the child's name while throwing my hands in the air, and return to class in a disoriented blur. There was no way to describe what this child was doing that wouldn't end with the words, "and I quit." Refiloe drank paint, threw stuff at me, threw himself on other children, scribbled on every available surface in the room, dumped out the contents of any box, basket or bucket he could find, tore pages out of books one by one. And he did all of these things non-stop. Cleaning up after him was a full-time job and he wrecked my room with a peculiar disinterest in the fantastic messes he was making. The principal once observed Refiloe rip the alphabet from the wall. He apologetically handed me a mangled letter and said, "He didn't mean to tear your W, but he did mean to steal it."

In the beginning, I would actually dream about this child, and wake up soaked in sweat. I started working with him one-on-one, mainly with language, and while he became less disruptive, to a point, he didn't do much of anything with purpose and seemed to be getting very little out of his time here. And then today, out of nowhere, he looked at the pictures of the famous architecture I laminate and post near the blocks, and methodically, intentionally, constructed the Taj Mahal. (It was even more elaborate than the pictures suggest, but I had to crop some of the building out since I avoid posting the child himself). Today, I practically skipped to the principal's office, cried, "Refiloe!" and dragged him to the room for once showing him something that wasn't an utter disaster. Later today, Refiloe jumped on a sand toy and broke it in half, tore apart the reading area while I read Lilly's Purple Plastic Purse, and drank the backwash out of everyone's water cup, but baby steps, baby steps.