Zulma* and I sat at a round table in my office. The principal’s office– I assured her she wasn’t in trouble. She had just turned 17. She looked dull. Resigned. 

Our journey with Zulma started two years ago in January when my assistant principal and I drove to the West Bronx on a quest to find her, our car doors scraping the snow as we stepped out.

Zulma had been absent for weeks. We were in remote learning. It was her first year in high school, and her second year in New York since arriving from El Salvador.  We found her apartment building and through the intercom, a sibling told us Zulma was at the laundromat a block away. So there we went, finding her in a hoodie and flip flops, taking a load out of the washer. 

We managed to get her back in online classes. Zulma was quick to learn and made up the work. The next year we came back fully in person. She made friends, passed classes, started to smile. 

This year, the attendance drifted off again and the grades suffered. A stressor at home? A responsibility, a disappointment? Or, did we at school just get distracted and stop giving her the attention she needed? 

But we caught it in a meeting– the grade drop. The teachers created a plan to support her, and I led Zulma to our guidance office to share it with her. 

The plan started with her strengths: strong writer. Helps other students. Great with numbers. 

She gazed down at the table, not fully listening. Dismissing the strengths. 

So I said it again– great with numbers. Strong writer. Helpful to others.

There was some kind of glimmer the third or fourth time I said it. As if I were shouting at one end of a long tunnel, and she was on the other end, finally starting to hear me. 

Great with numbers. I asked if she was interested in being an engineer. “No!” She shook her head emphatically. I listed a few more math-oriented professions. No, no, no. 

And then, accountant. She paused. We looked it up in Spanish to make sure we were talking about the same thing. Contador. For a female, contadora. 

She liked the idea of working with money. Businesses. People. The wheels were turning. She smiled a little. “Maybe.” 

Accounting is a profession for people who are great with numbers, I said, like you. 

She heard it. It was and still is a long road. And, this is what it looks like when we are seen. A teacher saw her– the way her mind works, a slice of her greatness. She was seen. 

*Names and identifying features of students have been changed. 

Photo credit: Katie Walker, Creative Commons License.