Declan loved school, but sitting still was hard. He spun in his chair during story time. He shouted answers before raising his hand. During math, he wandered to the window to watch a bird. At the art table, he accidentally knocked pencils off Quinn's desk. Ms. G watched quietly. She knew Declan was smart and kind. She also knew he needed help. That afternoon, Ms. G hung something new on the wall. It was colorful and had every student's name on it.

Declan's Wiggly Day

Ms. G gathered everyone on the carpet. "This is our Daily Goal Chart," she said with a smile. "Everyone starts at one hundred points each day. Every day is a fresh start." Declan sat up straight. Ms. G showed them exactly how to sit at their desks. She showed them how to raise a silent hand, fingers straight and tall. She explained that unsafe choices would lose points. "But you have twenty chances built in," she said. Declan listened carefully to every word.

The Daily Goal Chart

The next day, Declan tried his best. During reading, he called out an answer and lost two points. Then he called out again. At lunch time, he knocked a crayon off Quinn's desk on purpose. "Did you do that?" Ms. G asked gently. "No," Declan said, then felt bad. He lost more points. At the end of the day, Ms. G sat beside him with her clipboard. "You made it, Declan," she said quietly. "You made your goal."

Declan's First Try

"But I lost points," Declan said, confused. Ms. G smiled. "You have twenty chances built in. You didn't use them all up. You had room to make mistakes and still land on your feet. Nobody is perfect!" Declan looked at his score: eighty-seven. He felt proud. The next morning, Declan felt the wiggles coming in his legs. He remembered his proud feeling. He pressed his feet flat and took a deep breath. He raised one hand, fingers straight, arm tall. Ms. G nodded at him. Declan waited, perfectly still.

Landing on His Feet

Light brown skin with freckles across nose, big brown eyes, curly hair, shorts, and red sneakers

Declan

Freckles across nose and cheeks, purple glasses 

Quinn

Ms. G

Declan liked school, however, he had a lot of energy and liked to spin in his chair. He shouted out answers. He liked to wander the classroom. He knocked pencils off tables. His teacher, Ms. G, was patient and knew he was capable of more. Ms. G hung the Daily Goal Chart on the wall. Every student was responsible for their own score. Ms. G told the class, "One hundred is where we all begin. Every single day is a fresh start." Ms. G showed the students exactly where and how to sit, exactly how to raise a silent hand and exactly what would happen if they made an unsafe choice. Declan paid close attention. The first day, he lost seven points for calling out. Then he knocked a crayon off Quinn's desk on purpose, and then he said he didn't do it. Ms. G at the end of the day, sitting beside him with the clipboard. Her voice was quiet "You made it, Declan. You made your goal." "But I lost points," he said. "You have twenty chances built in," she said. "You didn't use them all up. You had room to make a mistake and still land on your feet. Remember no one is perfect!"
Declan looked at the number, eighty-seven, on the chart. It didn't look like losing. It looked like something he had "earned." He was proud of himself. Declan felt the spin coming — that restless fizz in his legs. He remembered how good it felt to be proud of himself. He pressed his feet flat to the floor and took a deep breath. He raised one hand, fingers straight, arm tall. Ms. G looked over and nodded. Declan waited, perfectly still, to see what she would say. 