advice for a new teacher

I had a new reader recently email me to ask for advice for "hopeful special education teachers-to-be". It made me think about my six years in various special education placements.

It really boils down to two three important pieces of advice:

1. A happy and healthy teacher is a more effective teacher. 
You will quickly find out that you could spend 24/7 in your classroom and STILL not get everything done that you wanted to do. There's always something you could be doing better. Do yourself a favor and set boundaries on your time. During my first year of teaching, I came home at 5 PM everyday (kids were dismissed at 3) whether I was "done" with my work or not. It saved my sanity, and it may well have saved my marriage. The workload gets slightly easier after the first few years, but maintaining balance is always crucial.


2. Always remember: you are teaching children, not curriculum!
Good ol' Mr. Rogers said it best: 

It's easy to convince people that children need to learn the alphabet and numbers. How do we help people to realize that what matters is how a person's inner life finally puts together the alphabet and numbers of his outer life?

What really matters is whether he uses the alphabet for the declaration of war or the description of a sunrise, and his numbers for the final count in Buchenwald or for the specifics of a new bridge.

3. Hang in there!
There are going to be days that you are going to wonder "Why in the world am I doing this? I did NOT sign up for this!!". There are going to be days where you are so tired, you won't remember how to spell your last name. Days when it feels like the whole world is against you: parents, students, colleagues, administrators, President of the United States. Days when you've made 4,000 decisions and don't have it in you to answer a simple yes-or-no question at the dinner table. On those days remember: "I am choosing to make a difference in the lives of children society would rather forget. However hard, however stressful, however tiring, it is worth it. The kids are worth it."

What important piece of advice would you give a new teacher?

Modern day miracles

After nearly five years as a teacher, there aren't very many "firsts" left for me. But recently I found myself in the midst of quite a "first": the mother of one of my students claimed he had been miraculously cured of his deafness.

"Sean" is a fourth grader who is profoundly deaf in both ears. He wears a cochlear implant and does quite well with it (without it, he cannot hear ANY speech sounds). He is quite intelligible, bright, and friendly.

Three weeks ago, he took off his cochlear implant and declared loudly (in slightly less intelligible speech) that he could hear and he didn't need it anymore. Thinking he was just messing around, I pointed for him to put it back on and then explained that the doctor/audiologist said he must wear it to hear. He grinned sheepishly and put it back on.

Later that day, my colleague told me that she had run into his mother at church and she had told her that Sean had been miraculously healed over spring break!

Now. I believe God still does miracles. But I also believe that miracles are not the usual way that He reveals himself. So over the next few days, every time Sean had his cochlear implant off (changing batteries, or what have you), we would loudly shout his name from varying distances.

No response.

Since Sean was obediently wearing his implant at school every day, I forgot all about the issue and went on with life.

Until Friday. Friday, his mother was at school to pick Sean up and we had a conversation in the stairwell. She told me that Sean had something to tell me. He told me that he had misplaced something and then we had the ODDEST conversation with him repeating himself and never directly answering my questions.

Then his mom turned to me after he had walked away and asked me, beaming: "Did you notice anything about Sean? He had that whole conversation with you without his implant on! He's been healed! We've had a miracle!"

I was at such a loss, I think all I managed was "Oh!". Thankfully, I had to give my attention to my other students so I was off the hook.

About twenty minutes later when the final bell had rung, she came into my classroom to expand further on this miracle. Something about a prophecy and three days and some prayer. I was quiet for a minute and she said: "You look amazed!", to which I replied: "This is an amazing situation!"

I put on my warmest smile and asked as tactfully as I could if the audiologist had confirmed his new hearing. Her response? "God doesn't need an audiologist to confirm his miracles!"

True. Since there was nothing appropriate left for me to say I quickly changed the subject, and Mom left as happy as she was when she came in.

I'm not a parent, and I'm obviously not a parent of a child with special needs. But I can understand wanting your child to be healed. I don't know how long Mom is going to hold on to this miracle, but I do know it's not my place to contradict her hope.

I Like This Hidden Curriculum

Last Friday, I threw a party for a student. She's a sixth grader with Down Syndrome, and she was being rewarded because she did various things (mainly, following directions) to earn her enough marbles to fill her marble jar. She's been working toward this since about November, so it was a BIG deal.

Since it was such a big deal, I made sure I ordered in her favorite pizza, provided drinks and colorful decorations, and borrowed the plastic bowling pins and bowling ball from the P.E department. She was thrilled to invite her many teachers, as well as two friends from her regular ed. sixth grade class. I was eager to have a front row seat to see her interact with her regular ed. peers....

I know that her sixth grade teacher had been saying wonderful things about how accepting and friendly the 25 other students are towards her. I also know that the teacher herself has been a HUGE part of setting up that accepting and friendly classroom atmosphere. She handles situations beautifully in front of the other students when my student does odd things like lick her desk, or give that one boy in her class graphic love notes, or have a bathroom accident in class. This teacher has been WONDERFUL, and I'm so thankful for that.

Back to the two friends at the party (one boy, one girl). I was so incredibly impressed with how they interacted with her. They never condescended or talked down to her. They knew all the right questions to ask her in order to carry on somewhat of a conversation (she's not an eager talker). They smiled and ate and took turns bowling down the hallway with her.

It made my special ed. heart just melt! To think! Irregardless of your view on inclusion and mainstreaming, aside from what good it may or may not be doing for my special ed. kiddo, just think of all the life lessons her regular classmates are learning. Whether they know it or not, because of their sixth grade year with my student, they are going to be better prepared to handle someone who is different. They will know how to interact with people who look different or who act strangely. They are learning patience, acceptance, and kindness.

There are a lot of adults I know who could have used a sixth grade year like that!

What if?

Some food for thought:

Is it easier to be an adult with a visible disability (missing limb, cerebral palsy, etc) or with an invisible disability (deafness, high functioning autism, aspergers, ADHD, etc)?

Is it easier to raise a child with a visible or invisible disability?

One mother shares her frustration:

We have twins with autism and we find ourselves always explaining (apologizing) for them because they will shout out the most obvious yet hurtful things to others... such as "what's wrong with your face", "your teeth are dirty", "You're old" They have no filter on them whatsoever. It is a huge struggle because I don't want anybody hurt like I know my sons are hurting. At one point I made shirts that said "We're not rude, we are not ignoring you, we just have autism" but I had a mother come up to me and said that it was inappropriate to make public my sons' medical condition.

It has gotten to a point that as soon as I walk into a public establishment with them I want to take out a blow horn and say "Look everybody, my boys are acting the way that they are acting because they are Autistic."

I took them to Disneyland last year and to all you parents with these very special children you know that the majority of them adore rides because of the tight feeling of the pressure of the ride restraints. But you also know that the majority of them push, pull and flail around why waiting to get on the ride. I had taken papers from our doctor into guest services and they gave us front of the line passes due to their condition. I have to say that I have never been treated so rudely by parents in my life. Every time we used the pass we had people yelling out the rudest, vilest things. Just because my sons were not in wheelchairs people just assumed that we were cutting. We were even pushed a few times. I don't think there is any easy remedy for people’s perception of this handicap.

If only we could all be more accepting of those who are different!

Reality Check

I just stumbled upon a site featuring Britain's Missing Top Model. It's very similar to America's Next Top Model, only in Britain's Missing version, all of the contestants have a physical disability. I watched a very interesting clip on YouTube (warning: girl poses in underwear) which was a thought-provoking nine minutes, worth your time if you have it. The clip brought to mind several questions.

First, can adult women with disabilities be just as catty, jealous, and deceitful as their non-disabled peers? Apparently, yes.

Is deafness any less of a disability just because it's invisible? In the clip, the woman in the wheelchair was very resentful towards the two beautiful deaf women... you'd never know they had a disability just by looking at them. Is that fair? Personally, I think that any type of disability is a true disability if it impairs your ability to function in society. If you can't communicate with 99% of the population unless you have an interpreter constantly at your side, then that should qualify as a disability. I think it's just as much of a disability as someone who can't access a building unless there's a wheelchair ramp available. That's my opinion anyway.

Was it fair to take the interpreter away from the deaf girls for an evening? I don't think so. It's one thing if the girls had decided for themselves that they wanted to try and do this on their own. But the truth is that they were probably never taught how to speak intelligibly, read lips, or hold their own in a large group, thus making them entirely dependent on the interpreter. So to take that away from them would be like taking the prosthetic leg away from the one girl, or taking away the wheelchair from the other girl. Some of you may disagree, but I believe that communicating is just as important as walking.

Reality shows are such a great indicator of what our society thinks is important. Who's the prettiest? Who's the most successful business person? Who's the best singer? Who's the strongest? Who's the bravest? Who's the best cook? I suppose that shows that focused on: who's the meekest? who's the kindest? who's the most humble? really wouldn't get that many ratings at all...