I have known that I wanted with all that I am, with my very being, to be a teacher since I came to the conclusion that there was not a high demand for fairy princesses in the modern world. Never did I waver from this conviction, and by sixth grade after working during my own free time (I did a lot of independent study) and recesses in the special education classroom in my school I knew that I wanted to teach young children with special needs. This was as much a part of me as the tangle of red curly hair that I cursed every morning as I tried to undo the knots it magically wove overnight and my need for books that rivaled my need for oxygen. Due to the gift of multiple blood clots in my left arm that led to a small stroke just after college graduation, and then a prolonged debate over heart surgery, I was not able to begin teaching as soon as I desired but I taught an audience of one. My Little Bit was my student and together we had great adventures, and she reinforced for me my understandings of early childhood development. I taught her sign language at 6 months of age and regretted it (just a bit) when she used it to tell me exactly what she thought. :) Then my years of teaching began and I was living my dream. I was teaching some of the most incredible, amazing, heartbreaking, perseverin, stubborn, independent, wise, spirited, challenging, rewarding, joyful, creative children who kept me constantly thinking in the moment and using creativity to problem solve and find the best ways to meet their individual needs and play to their individual interests. I can name every child from my three classes that I was blessed to teach, although I must say my average class size was 8 children, but I can also remember most of the children from the afternoon preschool classes for those two years too. It helps that I took hundreds of pictures - and then at the end of the school year gave each parent a CD of the best pictures of their child and a framed copy of my favorite picture.
So this year as kids are getting ready to go back to school, as I see little ones so excited and older kids slinking around with the attitude of being too cool for all of this my heart aches. I have missed preparing my classroom for my children, with the special little areas designed for learning and made accessible in every way possible. I have missed turning a blank and average classroom into a place that is welcoming and intriguing to my children, something that does not feel at all institutional in design or remind them of other concrete brick buildings like hospitals. I have missed opening supplies and preparing them for students to use, and imagining the wonderful creations that will result from their experiences. I miss reassuring parents that I have dealt with just about everything at this point (seizures, diastat, oxygen, trachs, g-tubes, epipens, reflux, feeding pumps, special oral feeding, braces of all sorts, allergies, behavioral issues, sensory issues) but that I will be very aware of the needs of their child. Last year we had basically a mobile crash cart when we left the classroom that consisted of oxygen, two different diastat medications for two different children (clearly labled and separated), an epi-pen, emergency supplies for any g-tube issues, a towel to lay a child on if they were to have a seizure, plenty of rubber gloves, a CPR mask, and a first aid kit. Everything but the oxygen went into a brightly colored backpack, so we did not stand out too much but we also never forgot it while I was there!
Most of all, I miss my kids. I miss teaching them, I miss working so hard with them and watching them put so much effort into mastering a skill, and I miss the huge celebration when they achieved the goal. I miss the laughter and smiles that were an inevitable part of every single day because you can not work with children and not laugh and smile and have fun. I miss watching their joy of discovery and the wonder when something new suddenly makes sense. I miss being able to see the world from their perspective again and being able to take them by the hand and show them a world that is just as much theirs as anyone else's. I miss watching the astonishment of successful communication and the pride of accomplishment. I miss teaching, I miss caring for my kids, and I miss knowing that each day they are growing and learning and I am a part of it. I am a teacher without a class and it feels as if I am missing a part of myself.
September 7, 2009 at 10:09 PM
Any chance at all - after you get your new chair? Would you be willing to teach if not having the whole schmere of a classroom? Could you work with another 'Little Bit'
- a private teacher/tutor situation?
I don't know where you live. I saw a post on a school that is sooo special, I don't know how they could refuse to accommodate a teacher like you. Barbara
http://oppositekids.blogspot.com/2009/09/first-steps-of-new-journey.html
September 8, 2009 at 10:14 AM
I could teach regular education if I went back to school to get a general education certificate, or "resource"/"learning disabilities" again if I went back to school to obtain the correct certificate. I would love a private teacher/tutor situation, but with the need for insurance and not being able to qualify for individual insurance would have to wait and see what Obama can pull off. All of my experience has been either with children ages 3-5 or 5-8 (severe disabilities), so working with older children feels awkward and a bit unnatural to me. Yet in college I loved tutoring a 12 year old with Down syndrome in reading (high 3rd grade level) and Math (3rd grade level). A lot to think about. :) I am giving myself a year to adjust, to learn how to live this new life, and to hopefully find answers and then I am going to evaluate exactly what my plans are for going back to school for a new career. It seems to make sense to me.
September 8, 2009 at 9:30 PM
You are by far the most mature person I have encountered in a long time. "I am giving myself a year to adjust" - can't tell you how many people I think could have helped themselves by just looking beyond the difficulties of the moment.
I met a woman once who had a rare adult onset of progressive spasticity. I find it hard to believe that a definitive diagnosis for you is not possible (seems you've implied doubt with what you've been told - no?)
Barbara
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