I moved to a new city in 1st grade. At the time, I was ahead of the curve, reading-wise. I learned to read early and was really good for my age at that point. Reading was my favorite thing to do. So you know quiet reading time was my jam. Except the kid sitting behind me, we'll call him D, was annoying as hell and did his best to distract any and everyone around him during silent reading time. I didn't understand why he couldn't just shut the hell up and let me enjoy my book...and honestly, I started to really hate him. Also, having just moved, he was the first black person I had ever met in my life, and I might have been brought up to be a little bit racist (a flaw I have worked to correct since I realized it).

ANYWAY, eventually, after a few months of close surveillance, I solved the mystery of why D had to be so goddamned annoying during my favorite part of the day: he was bored to tears because **he couldn't read.** And I mean he literally could not read, he could sound out some easy words but he was pretty much lost for the most part. And the teachers weren't really doing anything about it...

So I taught him. Before school, during recess (on days when when couldn't play outside of course - we were little kids, not college students), during reading time, waiting for the bus. We practiced and practiced. I brought him my phonics flashcards from kindergarten. My mom sent me to school with two sets of whatever supplies we needed that day - one pack of markers/notebook/pair of scissors for me, one for D.

I got to know him better, and learned about his home life. His mom had two jobs and didn't get home until after most kids are in bed. He took care of feeding and bathing his younger brother. His dad was in jail. He had a rough life. Hearing about his made me closely examine my own. This was my first real lesson in racism as well. My teachers always seemed exasperated with him, like it was his fault he couldn't read and not a reflection of their performance as a teacher. They seemed to leap at the opportunity to give him a demerit or send him on a trip to see the principal even for minor infractions, like "not paying attention" (read: looking out the window because the public school system had failed him so badly he couldn't even begin to keep up with the material). I noticed they treated several other kids this way, all of whom were black. There were troublemakers of all races and backgrounds, but I remember noticing, at an early age, that the rich white ones never seemed to get in half as much trouble as D always did.

By the end of the year, D's grades had soared - and not just in English. It turns out, with the right support system and school supplies, anyone can learn anything. He finished the first grade with an A in English nothing below a C+ in the other subjects. I remember him hugging me tight and saying "I've never gotten an A before!" But most importantly, he could read. He had joined the world of the literate. He was just so excited. All he needed was a little attention and some help getting school supplies.

So that's probably not what you were expecting, Reddit, but my story of misbehaving-kid-gets-karmic-justice is just a little bit different than the other ones. Life dealt D a bad hand and he succeeded anyway. He got "what he deserved" - a fair chance at an education.

Hope you're still out there reading, D. Wherever you are.