Today consisted of: math lessons with two boys who struggle but are coming a long way, a pep talk with a senior girl who is just now starting to believe in herself, practicing a Radiohead song with a 7th grader who is about to be in the school-wide talent show (I know! Already has good taste, huh?), re-scheduling the show due to weather, visiting with a teacher on how he can better teach one of his students with a disability, lunch duty (ok, that part is lame), helping a student apply for Rehab Services through the state, and a motivational conversation with our vice-principal about following your life passions. It really is a great job for me. I'm at a crossroads, though. There are many classes I must start taking for my program that are offered all during the day. It makes it virtually impossible to have a 'regular' job. I am still chewing on what I am going to do next fall. One thing is for sure: I LOVE the kids I get to work with so much that I'd personally want to train whoever my predecessor would be. I just feel an obligation to make sure that what we've built will keep on building. It saddens me to think that I would not see some of them through to graduation...but at the same time, what I EVENTUALLY will be doing is also a service to these kids.
I have one student that I feel like, on a daily basis, is my reason for getting up & coming to work. He came to our school last year...it was his first time to ever attend "regular" classes after years of separate, special classes. I knew his IQ scores were (very) low. I fought the administration on even admitting him at first: "Our school is not prepared to give a student like this what he needs. He will be dis-serviced!" But he came, and I doubted.
Fast forward to 16 months later: he is attending a rehab program for job training half a day, he comes to his "regular" classes and teachers report that he literally works harder than anyone else there, he tries to get involved in any and everything he can, and he is my assistant for the school talent show (and a good one at that!). He has thrived SO much by people treating him like an equal, by the kids (our kids rock) including him in every day, regular things. Yes, there's been times when he has shed tears in my office: "Ms. Curl, someone made fun of me!" "Ms. Curl, I don't understand what this class is!" He even confided to me about some very traumatic early childhood experiences that no doubt contributed to his current disability.
But he is, daily, trying to overcome his hardships. He just wants to be "like everyone else." The thing is: he's not. I see more drive in that kid than many of the adults we all know. He has greater work ethic than I can hope to ever achieve.
I don't care what his IQ report says. He has taught so many of us at our little school some big life lessons, and I will always cherish that. I will watch him graduate in 2 years and feel as proud as a mother hen.
Yes, life is good.
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