This post will probably seem self-indulgent. However, I'm sharing because it's a proud moment for me. Over the past six or seven years since becoming a certified high school teacher, I've often rethought my decision. I have often asked myself whether or not I was meant for this profession or if I should continue to pursue teaching as a career. I've had many a flighty thought about other occupations, but the draw of amazing holidays and reliable employment and the ability to get paid to travel have all trumped these uncertainties. I've enjoyed my time with the students, but these same students are also responsible for some of the most difficult times in my life, whether this means being threatened with knives or receiving news that one of my English 11 students had died. Although the holidays, pay, and work environment generally justify the job, it's not particularly often that we get a sincere pat on the back.
I'm reblogging the following story from a mother of one of my students. She sent this story to our Head of School and Principal, who passed it on to our staff. I spent some time talking to this mother about 6 weeks ago after her son had an issue with an incomplete assignment. I didn't think I did anything particularly special, but it seemed to have made an impact. This is the part of teaching that makes me want to continue in the profession. Apologies if it seems a bit too over-the-top. And thanks for letting me indulge.
T
In the past seven years, I’ve trudged through some slimy, murky
waters trying to keep my child from drowning. When Matthew was
diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome in the second grade, I really had no
idea how far my heart and mind could be stretched and challenged. To me,
ASD is not a disorder or disability but more an identification of
someone with an amazing potential, quirky sense of humor and
fascinating mind. I wasn’t prepared for others who wouldn’t see it that
way, who just don’t “get it”. There is nothing more terrifying than
standing on the shoreline, watching your child going under, gasping for
air and feeling like you are absolutely helpless to come to their
rescue. I spent a few years swimming alongside, trying to throw my
child a lifeline. Elementary teachers don’t think they should have to
teach a child how to swim. There just isn’t any mention of this in the
Common Core curriculum and it certainly won’t earn any points on the
high stakes testing. Middle school teachers have too many students to
notice if someone is drowning. That was the prevailing sentiment, at
least. When your child looks at you through tear soaked lashes and tells
you that he would die without you because there would be no one who
could help him, you know it’s up to you. No one is going to be the hero
you are hoping for. Our public schools should have warning signs that
there are no lifeguards on duty. Swim at your own risk.
Eventually I decided to charter a little schooner and sail away to a
peaceful remote island. An island without bullies, without teachers who
would humiliate him. A place where he wouldn’t have to sob all the way
home after school every day. I made the decision to resign my own
teaching position and we shored up like castaways in Clermont doing
virtual school. It was a sacrifice that I don’t regret.
When David first asked if I would consider traversing the Pacific
Ocean to Shanghai, I thought he was out of his mind, end of
conversation. The storm waves had finally settled down and we were
enjoying beautiful sunsets with swaying palm trees and Jimmy Buffet
music. Why rock the boat? Over time, we began to investigate and weigh
out what an incredible opportunity this could be for our family. We
finally concluded that the worst case scenario would be that we would
continue to virtual school from Shanghai. Totally feasible, not the end
of the world, we can do this. I crossed my fingers that our little
Shirley schooner could weather monsoons.
I had no delusions that private international schools were going to
be the nautical utopia that I’d resigned myself just didn’t exist.
Private schools have no obligation whatsoever to special needs
students. Been there, done that, have the scars to prove it. I steeled
myself for another round of rejection, misconceptions and frustration.
Four out of six potential schools in Shanghai took one look at a
student with an IEP and told us not to bother applying. My expectations
were way below 20,000 Leagues. Due to pregnancy complications, I was
stuck horizontal in my bed making imaginary Rorschach pictures in the
knocked down ceiling when the school visits were done. I tried to allow
myself a little cautious optimism when Matthew Skyped to say that he
had found a school where he felt welcome and safe. Megan liked the same
school, miracle of miracles! Shanghai Community International School
(SCIS) had won their vote but I was guarded. The Olympic swimming
pool was nice, but were they really only interested in students who were
already proficient swimmers?
Matthew was adamant that he wanted to be independent, and even more
emphatic that he wanted to be treated just like everyone else. He was
ready to dive in and swim on his own. I’ve never been more proud and
more panic-stricken. This Mommy would be hanging out on the pier with a
pair of binoculars. I sent my kids off to school in a foreign country
and went a little mad trying to kill time until they returned. Every
day felt like forever for weeks. Matthew struggled to adjust, had to
deal with upset stomach and difficulty sleeping. The homework and
organization were the biggest hurdles, not unexpected. We had some
sleepless nights, working through anxiety and projects until the wee
hours. I was determined to let him work it out with his teachers but
wondered when the tide would start to carry him out as it had so often
in the past. So far he was keeping his head above the surface but I
wasn’t sure how long he could tread water.
Three weeks into school the pivotal moment struck. Matthew came home
and reported that he’d had an issue in class when asked to do an oral
report. Deep, cleansing breath. Memories of a past horrific experience
with an oral report flooded my mind. But I donned my neutral Mommy
face and prompted him to continue with the story. It was his turn but
he shook his head when the teacher asked if he was ready. Oh, Lord.
The 65% of my body that’s water froze instantly and my left eye began to
twitch but I smiled and asked him what the response was. The teacher
tactfully went on to the next person and said that he’d like to talk to
Matthew after class. Ok, I thawed a teeny bit, but let’s get to the
next phase, still much potential for a typhoon. I never realized until
this moment that I had so completely given up on the possibility of
finding empathy and compassion in my son’s teachers. What happened next
shocked me. The teacher got Matthew to talk to him and explain how he
was feeling. He suggested that an after school one-on-one oral report
might be in order and stressed to him how important it is for Matthew to
talk to him when he’s feeling overwhelmed. A little saltwater leaks
from my eyes just thinking about how I felt at that moment. Did this
teacher just throw Matthew a life preserver?? Is he actually going to
get in the water with this child?? This response is what I’ve been
begging of his teachers for so long. So simple and yet so elusive…
until now. What makes this even more impressive is that the teacher
didn’t know Matthew was ASD. He was being sensitive to who he is as a
person and treats all of his students with this level of respect. Even
more incredible is that the entire staff seems to be infected with this
pervasive culture of accommodation and reckless desire to see their
students succeed. If they can’t swim, they teach them. If they can swim,
they teach them whatever it is that they need. How completely and
utterly astounding!
It’s been two months now and the child who used to be terrified at
school is trudging through the desert in Inner Mongolia with teachers
that he trusts enough to immerse himself in some of his greatest fears.
Yesterday he texted us that he rode a makeshift sled down a sand dune
and ate dinner while viewing Mongolian entertainment (?)Tonight he is
camping in a yurt with camels and other equally odiferous animals
nearby. If you know my child or anyone with ASD, you will understand how
completely extraordinary this is. Matthew is not just treading water.
He is doing some serious deep sea diving.
Being a Disney family has brought us many special moments, but
boarding the Shanghai boat has really ramped up our magic. I never
would’ve imagined I’d find my dream school 12,000 miles on the other
side of the world. SCIS is a godsend for our family. My teacher faith
has been restored and more importantly, Matthew has finally gotten the
chance to show what he’s really been capable of all along with just a
little understanding from some real life heroes. I think I’m having a
Disney magic Mommy moment.
From: http://shirleyshanghai.wordpress.com/2013/10/12/a-mommy-moment/
