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    The Case of The Missing Boy

    The after-school tutoring program I work for is entirely voluntary (for the students–not for me: I wouldn’t be doing this without a paycheck–momma didn’t raise no fool). The school identifies students who will benefit from the service, and sends them an application. The parents fill it out and return it to the school, which determines who will be my students. Because the program is voluntary, there is little accountability. Students who were healthy enough to go to school occasionally miss tutoring because they’re sick. Sometimes the tutoring/babysitting conflicts with the parents’ schedule, so the students don’t attend. And sometimes kids just don’t want to go (I can’t really blame them: if they liked school at all they would be able to learn the material during school hours instead of having to give up their afternoons to do it all again).

    Attendance was low the first few sessions, but we’ve grown to the point where I’ve met every student. Well, every student but one. But since he’s on my roster, I make sure I call his name every day. “Ausente, Chico? Is Chico Ausente here? Does anyone know Chico Ausente?” It’s become a bit of a running joke betweem me and . . . . .