I can't wait to get back to school so I can meet them!
This week, like many teachers throughout the country, I am incredibly excited to begin working with an entirely new group of students. (This isn't sarcasm. Yeah summer is great, but I'm not going to whine about going back to work with my students. That's the best part of my job.)
Let's get this out of the way...our educational system is incredibly flawed. But that is not what this post is about. The system needs to change but it will not change in time for it to affect the students who I will be working with. Good teachers look at the system and say, "The system sucks. I will do my best to change the system. But in the meantime, I need to help these kids sitting in front of me right now." Then they roll up their sleeves and begin the arduous (and incredibly rewarding) task of educating other people's children. I try to be one of them.
*I promise I will stir up the controversy of our flawed educational system in another post, but today is not that day. Please allow me to celebrate my students, both past and future.
Some of you already know I am a high school special education teacher specializing in teaching students with learning disabilities as well as those on the Autism spectrum. I teach World History and Math (luckily not at the same time). Unfortunately at my school, many of these students are enrolled in "self contained" classes like mine. This means that these students with special needs are not enrolled in classes with their general education peers. For 17 years, I have fought to change this... and have failed. My only recourse is to try my best to provide the same rigorous content as my general education counterparts. I just do it a little differently. The common abbreviation for "learning disabled" is "LD". In my opinion, and the way I describe it to my students, I believe "LD" should merely stand for "learns differently". They are not "less than" their peers, mereIy "different" (and I spend a lot of time stressing that "different" is good). My main task for the remainder of the year is convincing them of this distinction. In fact, it's a big part of my opening day speech.
Every school year, I begin with the same speech. I point to a sign on my wall that states, "Mr. Murphy's Creed: It is my responsibility to help every student learn how to succeed today and in the future". I then explain that there really is no reason to ask why I am doing something in class. I don't mean that they shouldn't ask "why" questions about the content or the world around them. In fact I want them to ask those questions as often as possible. I simply mean they never have to ask why I planned a certain activity or assigned a project. The answer is always the same, "Because, based on my knowledge, experience and research, this activity will help you learn how to succeed today and in the future". (Although I obviously answer "why are we doing this?" all of the time. I really just want them to know I believe they can succeed and I want to help them).
Next, I explain that the most important part of the creed is the word "future". I explain that I am working for the future version of themselves. It is that version whose opinion really matters to me. I tell them that I measure my own success and failure based on what their future self would say to me. If future Billy returns and says, "Murphy was way too easy. He let me get away with everything. I didn't have to work at all. I had fun and didn't have to do much, but he completely wasted my time." Then I have failed. If future Jasmine returns and says, "Man Murphy was tough on me. He made me work. But I got stronger." Then I have succeed. I sum it up by saying, "I'm not going to lose one second of sleep, or cry on the way home from work if none of you like me right now. I'll only cry if your future selves hate me."
The reason for this speech is to let them know without any doubt that I believe they can succeed and they can count on me to do my part to help. Many of my students have had at least one adult give up on them during their educational experience. The child struggled to understand something, so the adult threw their hands up and said, "This kid will never get this. Forget it. I'll just let him play on the computer. As long as he's not bothering anyone." The student may have felt immediate joy (video games are fun after all), but the message was loud and clear: "You aren't smart enough to do this". If this happens enough, by the time the student gets to me, they start to believe it. A big part of my job is to reprogram them to believe they can and will succeed.
Next, I move onto the elephant in the room. They all know that each of them has some kind of label. So I let them know that I don't care about these labels. I begin this portion by saying, "I know many of you struggle with reading. For many of you writing is really difficult. And others have a tough time with math. But that is ok, because I know all of you can think. And thinking is what is most important. Reading and writing are tools that can help you, but they aren't the only tools. I'm going to help you get better at using those tools, but you can also improve and display your ability to think using speech, pictures, animations, music, videos and probably some other ways I can't even think of because I'm an old man who doesn't understand all of your new fangled stuff. And just so you know, in my room, "LD" stands for "learns differently". Because that is what we are going to do in here. You are going to learn just as much as everyone else in this school, we are just going to go about it in a little different manner."
I continue, "Let's get back to thinking. That is where it's really at. No one is ever going to walk up to you on the street and ask, 'When was the Magna Charta signed?' If they do, run! But you better believe someone might ask, 'What do you think about the protests going on?' Or 'How can we find out more information about...' Every job is going to require you to think. You are going to need to think in every relationship. That is why this class is going to focus on thinking. You're already good at it. After this year, you'll be even better."
I finish by saying, "I also know that each one of you is smart. In this class you will have lots of different ways to show that off." Sometimes it feels like the biggest part of my job is convincing my students that they are smart.
Not only are they smart, my students are also the bravest kids in the school.
I have a request to make of you, the reader. Please think of something that you are really bad at. Something that you are embarrassed to do. If you can't think of one (Good for you! You are perfect!) I have a suggestion below, or at least an analogy... if you are an awesome dancer as well.
Maybe for some of you, it's dancing. You just don't have rhythm. Maybe you aren't very coordinated. And it's really hard for you to memorize the steps so you can at least fake it.
Now imagine that you are mandated to dance in public for seven hours a day 180 days per year. You have already done this for eight years in a row. To make it worse, you see 90% of the people around you getting really good at it. Some are even experts. Then every so often, someone comes in to judge your dancing and tells you how bad you are at it. To top it off, every nine weeks or so, the judge notifies the people who you love most just how bad you are at it. I almost forgot the best part, everyone is always telling you how important dancing is and that if you don't get better at it, you will end up with a pathetic life flipping burgers in order to scrape by. Sounds delightful! I imagine you would grow to despise dancing.
This is exactly what my students have done their entire lives. They show up at school every day and are compelled to do something that many of them hate. But that is the key: they keep showing up. They don't quit. No matter how embarrassed, frustrated or sad they get, they keep going. These kids are resilient.
I can't control what happened before they entered my class or what will happen when they leave, but I can do my best to provide my students with a dance floor where they feel valued and actually have a shot at succeeding. I can make it so my class doesn't feel like a scary dance floor at all. One second it's an art studio, the next a recording studio, then a TV production studio, then a poetry slam, then a meditation chamber. Maybe they don't have to dance in front of everyone else. Maybe they need some old school multi-colored footprints on the floor to help them remember their steps. Maybe their thing is just hopping in place... but they pogo better than anyone ever has! Maybe they should get to show their talent in their own unique way. If these kids get a fair shot to show what they can do, they will shine.
I'm going to leave out the middle of this story for now. I'll just sum it up by saying that my students figure out pretty quickly that even though I start out very seriously, I'm actually a clown. A clown who wants to help them to succeed today and in the future but a clown nonetheless. Hopefully I'll be able to write about those moments as the year progresses. For now, I'm going to jump to the end. I'm going to tell the future. Well it's kind of cheating because just as I begin each school year the same way, I also end the school year the same way.
Warning: the next part is SUPER cheesy. But that's me, super cheesy. By the end of the year, my students would expect nothing less.
On the last day, after my students have dominated the final for my class (yes I have to give finals... but I definitely put my own spin on them) I secretly turn on the song "We are the champions" by Queen. I silently walk to the front of the class and stand there. The kids don't know whats going on so they laugh and think I have lost my mind...again. The song is corny, but by now they know I am ridiculously corny so it's not too much of a surprise. After Freddy Mercury has belted out the first few lines, I lower the volume (but not all the way, it's not every day you get to give a speech with background music) and I say:
"Every single one of you should be incredibly proud of yourself. You have done one of the bravest things imaginable. You showed up every day and did things that were difficult for you. You showed up every day and fought and clawed to get the education that every person needs and deserves. The education that comes so easy to many people. You could have given up but you never did. I asked you to do some pretty challenging stuff this year. We analyzed college level material. You made arguments... and more importantly backed up those arguments. You solved tough algebraic equations. You read and you wrote....and then you wrote and you read. You participated in class and spoke in public. You worked together as good teammates. You gave others a chance to express their ideas. You respected each other. You maturely learned from movies with adult content like 'Schindler's List'. And you handled every difficult task with grace. I am proud of you. But more importantly, you should all be proud of yourselves. Now who answered "A" for the last question on the final? You got it right!"
In response to that question, every kid should proudly raise his/her hand in the air.
Because the last question on my final is:
Are you smart?
a. yes
There is no choice b.
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