From the Mouths of Babes

                So my blog is called Diary of a Part-Time Homemaker.  This is because I truly enjoy pretending to be a stay at home wife every once in a while.  But during my days, I am usually quite busy with this other thing I do.  I’m a teacher.  And, not just any kind of teacher, but a special education teacher.  And, not just any kind of special education teacher, but a middle school special education teacher.  I am one of those weird adults who truly loves this wonderful, horrifying time in a child’s life.  Some days they are still little kids and other days my students are trying to desperately to be mature young adults. 

As a seventh grade special education teacher, I see a lot of students who lack confidence in their abilities.  Frankly, they have been labeled disabled, so I see where the idea comes from.  However, I feel that the most important lessons I teach are not about reading or math but about life—goal setting, perseverance, self-talk, failure as a stepping stone to success.  Yes, my lesson plans are standard based with the Iowa Core Curriculum, but whenever I can squeeze a little extra out of the class period, I certainly do.

                Well, today in my math group one girl had all 10 problems right.  Maybe that doesn't sound too challenging but really the task was complex.  She had to read the story problems, write the correct algebraic equation, solve for her variable, and then prove her answer.  Believe me I took some time to praise her efforts.  This same student has a test in two days over the exact same thing, and she usually fails tests miserably.  So, we had a little chat—more like a come Jesus meeting—about what was going on.  She said she failed tests because she tells herself she’s stupid (which I can vouch—she does say this very thing quite frequently).  I pointed back to the homework and said that I had proof that she will earn an A+ on the upcoming test.  I also explained that more than half of the seventh graders earned a C or below on the homework.  A slight smile crept onto the corner of her mouth.  Then, in my stern teacher voice, I asked her how she was going to do on this test.  With a full on grin, she stuttered and I quote, “I’m gonna…I’m gonna kick the test in the butt.”  All I could do was nod and smile.  (Sorry, parents and principals out there.  Yes, I say this very phrase to my students before every test.)

                Hours later I was reading the questions of an essay test over a book the students had just finished reading for their Language Arts class.  (The female student from earlier in the day is not in this class as she has grade level reading skills and does not need special education support services to be successful.)  I got to the fourth question, and one of the boys shoved his test across the table, threw down his pencil, crossed his arms, and angrily said, “I don’t know.”  Honestly, I had to gather myself.  What was I going to say?  How was I going to approach this child in a way that made him feel heard yet empowered him to decide to finish the test on his own?

                Another boy in the testing group looked up from his test and without missing a beat said, “If you tell yourself you don’t know, you won’t know.  You need to say, ‘I can do this,” and then just do it.”  This motivational speaker in the making, then resumed recording his own answer to the pesky fourth problem.  Holding my breath, I waited.  (Wait time is important, right teachers?)  Within a minute the student who had been at his wits end, stretched across the table for his test and slowly started crafting his essay.

                I sat in silent awe as I tried to take in all that had happened.  This boy listened to the pep talk I was giving one of my female students this morning (granted—he’s heard these messages all year from many other adults and peers), transferred this message to another situation, and took the time to inspire his classmate.  It’s moments like these that we, as educators, need to soak in, celebrate, and store up, so that when we go through the difficult seasons we remember why we do what we do.  I know I am not the best teacher.  I know I can’t help every student in my school.  But for these three children I hope I have helped them on their journey.  Maybe they will continue to share these positive messages with others in their lives.  Maybe, just maybe, we have started something small that can become something big.