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How To Help A Quiet, Withdrawn Kid Who Won’t Participate In School: A Teacher’s Experience In China

Family Education Eric Jones 86 views

How To Help A Quiet, Withdrawn Kid Who Won’t Participate In School: A Teacher’s Experience In China

Last October, I was pulling crumpled milk cartons and half-eaten orange peels out of the snack bin after my after-school tutoring class in Dongguan when I noticed Xiao Ming hovering by the door. His frayed canvas backpack was slung so tight over one shoulder the strap was twisted into a knot, and he kept kicking a hairline crack in the ceramic tile, eyes on his shoes. Most kids that stayed after came for extra math practice, but he didn’t move toward the homework table. When I asked if he needed to use the bathroom, he mumbled so quiet I could barely hear him: My head teacher said you help kids who can’t read. I can’t read.

He was 10, in fourth grade, and had started at the local public school two years earlier when his parents moved to the city from a rural village in neighboring Guangxi to work at an electronics factory. He lived with his grandma, who spoke only the local dialect and couldn’t help with his Mandarin homework. His head teacher told me he’d been laughed at so bad when he read aloud with his thick village accent in second grade that he’d stopped speaking up in class entirely. Now he just stared at his desk during lessons, turned in blank worksheets, and the school was talking about holding him back a year.

I set down the trash bag and waved him to the table. I pulled out his Chinese language textbook, and the first thing I noticed was the margins were covered in tiny, detailed drawings of fighter jets. Every page had one, tucked between the characters, crumpled at the corner where he’d folded the paper to hide them from his teacher. I asked him to read the first paragraph out loud, and he just stared at the page. His knuckles went white around the edge of the book, and he didn’t make a sound for 15 minutes. I’d been trained to wait kids out in that situation, but I could see his shoulders shaking a little, so I closed the book instead. I told him we didn’t have to read today. He could draw his airplanes while I graded papers, and he could go home whenever he wanted. He stayed for 40 minutes, didn’t say a word, but he came back the next week.

That’s the first thing I tell other teachers and parents who ask about helping kids like Xiao Ming. If your kid freezes up when you ask them to do something they’re scared of, don’t push them to “just try” or wait them out until they break. Drop the task. Do nothing related to the thing they’re struggling with, for that day. A lot of people think pushing them to get over their fear will make it go away, but for a kid who’s already been laughed at or told he’s slow, it just reinforces that he’s only allowed to be there if he performs. I started keeping a pack of drawing paper and colored pencils in my classroom for exactly this reason. It’s low effort, no pressure, and it lets the kid build trust that you’re not just there to test them.

After a few weeks of just drawing and sitting quiet together, I changed one small thing: I moved our chairs from across the table from each other to side by side, both looking at the book. It sounds simple, but face-to-face seating automatically puts a kid on guard, like it’s an interview or a test. Side by side feels like you’re working on the same thing together, not grading them. I started reading one page of his textbook out loud to him, then I’d pause and ask him to point to the character for “plane” or “sky” – no speaking required, just pointing. After three weeks, he started whispering the word when he pointed. I never congratulated him too loudly, never made a big deal out of it, just nodded and turned the page. That’s another small, useful shift: big displays of praise can feel just as pressure-filled as criticism for a kid who hates attention. A quiet nod is enough.

I found out from his grandma that he spent all his free time watching videos about fighter jets on his dad’s old smartphone, so I went to the local bookstore and found two short, easy reading passages about military planes for elementary kids. We skipped the textbook passages he hated for a whole month, and just worked on those. He already knew every single fact, so reading the words felt less like learning something hard and more like talking about something he loved. That’s the most practical change any parent or teacher can make: if your kid is struggling with reading or math, stop forcing them to use only the school’s assigned material. If they love online games, find reading passages about how to build their favorite character. If they love cooking, have them read the recipe off the back of the rice bag. It doesn’t matter what they work on, as long as it’s something they care about. I always say, “We can stop any time you want” before we try anything new, and that one sentence takes almost all the pressure off.

Last month, the school held its annual science fair. I asked Xiao Ming if he wanted to make a poster about fighter jets, and he shook his head at first. I repeated that we could stop any time, and no one made him present if he didn’t want to. He said okay. He drew all the jets himself, and I helped him spell the labels. On fair day, he still didn’t want to stand in front of the whole class to present, so I stood next to him and talked about the poster, and he just pointed to each jet when I asked. Halfway through, he whispered the name of one jet loud enough for the kids in the front row to hear, and no one laughed.

He still doesn’t raise his hand in regular class. He still barely talks to the other kids during recess, and his reading level is still a few months behind where the curriculum says it should be. The school still talks occasionally about holding him back. Last week, though, he came to class early and left a crumpled drawing of a stealth fighter on my desk, signed with his name in the wobbly characters he’s still practicing. He didn’t wait for me to say anything, just went to his seat and pulled out his coloring pencils. I don’t know if he’ll ever be the loud, outgoing kid that fits perfectly into a crowded Chinese public classroom. I don’t know if he’ll catch up to his grade level by the end of the year. But right now, that drawing is enough.

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