The Reason Why I Teach

Today was the first day back at the Edge Academy since I left at the close of Fall Semester. Today, I begin working with a new class, new faces, and a whole new set of challenges. During fall semester I worked with a group of individuals that varied in writing and reading levels, but who were committed to authoring news articles for the monthly “Scribbler”. Now, I sit in the back of the room filled with twelve students with moderate to severe intellectual disability. However, the students and I are not alone in the classroom; rather we are joined by a facilitator, four paraeducators, and a fellow SMC intern, thus providing a 12:7 student to teacher ratio.

At first the classroom is intimidating and crowded. Filled with distractions, it seems as though the most difficult part of teaching this group of students is completing at least half of the lesson plan planned for that day. Then, my ear gets pulled into the conversation happening within the inner circle of students who are reading the poems they worked so hard to author. The poems were incredibly deep – emotion and feeling poured from every word. At one point, during a poem about September 11, an event these students are too young to remember almost brought tears to my eyes. However, the most moving part of today had yet to happen. As the circle finished reading their poems, it came time for the last person to read their poem, however this student was a student with autism that has caused her to be almost-nonverbal. I was curious as to what was going to happen next. I was shocked when I saw Jamie walk into the center of the circle with her Ipad, how was she going to read her poem to the class? Then, before my eyes, Jamie pressed a button on her Ipad and a voice read the poem that she typed – her Ipad gave her a voice. Her poem was about what the world would be like if she was able to control it, needless to say tears strolled down my cheek before she went back to her seat.

Not all students read their poem however, some were not done and one student hadn’t even started. This student became my objective, see if I could get him to write a few lines of a poem. There was a catch though; Dylan was a student with an emotional disturbance that has caused him to become selectively mute. I sat alone in a room with Dylan grasping at whatever I could to make a connection. “What do you like to do?” His shoulders shrugged. “Do you like to play outside with friends?” He shook his head no. “Do you like video games?” A smile lit up his face and he nodded yes. I saw my in and continued to dig. I learned that Dylan loved “Call of Duty”, but did not like going to school. We came up with an idea for a poem and through guiding questions, we authored a poem that Dylan was quite proud of, the pride shining through his smile as he handed it into Elizabeth.

Day one was one of the most powerful experiences that I have ever encountered in a classroom. I was inspired and ready to come back and continue my work.