Declan Can't Sit Still

Declan* has already been sent to the office three times this week.  

He tries to be good. He really does. But school is hard for Declan. So much sitting still. So much standing in line. So much, “Keep your hands to yourself!” When he blurts out answers or bumps into desks, the teacher groans. Once, a boy asked, “Why are you always like that?” 

Declan wonders that too. 

Declan’s parents aren’t around. He never knew his dad, and his strongest memory of his mom is of her singing loudly in the kitchen while macaroni boiled over. She isn’t home now. Grown-ups use words like “charges” and “time.” Declan just knows she is somewhere he can’t visit without metal detectors and heavy doors. 

He lives with Nana and Papa. They love him in a steady, quiet way. On Friday nights they sit together on the couch and watch WWE wrestling, but, honestly, they’re tired. They struggle to meet his energy level.  

On Wednesdays, though, something special happens. 

At 11:23 a.m., the classroom door opens, and Mr. Lewis stands there with a board game in his hands and a smile that reaches his eyes. He isn’t Dad. He doesn’t try to be. He is Declan’s Lunch Buddy, the man who comes once a week to eat lunch with him. 

Mr. Lewis asks real questions. “When your legs feel jumpy, what do you think they are trying to tell you?” “What are you hoping will happen?” 

Sometimes they draw superheroes on napkins. Declan's hero is called Velocity—fast, loud, impossible to ignore. 

“That sounds like energy,” Mr. Lewis says. “Energy can build things. It just needs direction.” 

Later that week, when Mrs. Alvarez needs help passing out papers, Declan raises his hand. “I can do it.” He moves fast—careful fast—and places each paper like it matters. 

There are still hard days. But on Wednesdays, someone shows up just for him. And Declan begins to believe he is more than trouble. 

*Names and details have been changed to protect privacy.