Sometimes teaching has benefits that can't be measured...

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

A Mommy Moment
October 12, 2013

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/