Tag: empathy

Cultivate Inner Joy and Watch It Spread: Lessons from a Lifetime of Teaching, part 2

Featured by stephsimply, posted in education

“The soul’s joy lies in doing.”–Percy Bysshe Shelley

Author’s Note: This is the second installment of stories from decades of teaching a wide array of students from grades K-12.  It is my hope that by sharing these stories, I will cultivate lessons of compassion, empathy, and understanding. 

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Bus Ride 🚌

My first two professional years were spent teaching students placed in special education classrooms in a large rural high school that served an entire county in Kentucky.  Some of my students faced a two-hour ride each morning and afternoon to get to and from school.  Those students rode a “feeder line” out of their hollow, or “holler,” as it was locally pronounced, because the roads were deemed unsafe for school bus passage.  The feeder line drove students to the end of the hollow where the students would then board their school bus.

School began at 8:00 and ended at 3:00, and students could begin arriving as early as 7:30.  This meant several of my students left their house around 5:30 am and would not arrive home until after 5:00 pm.  Additionally, the “holler” roads were often impassable during bad weather.  Therefore, there was a high rate of absenteeism among those students, especially during the winter months.

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Learning methods 📝

One of those students who rode a feeder line was named “Gladys.” (Name change for privacy) Gladys had been identified as having a lower IQ. Reading and math were not easy for her.  It was as if Gladys’ brain was wired to process at a slower pace and needed expanded time to practice and play with whatever new skill she was learning.  

However, what worked to Gladys’ advantage was that she was incredibly verbal. When learning something new, most students, after instruction, think through the steps or the words to complete a task, but not Gladys. She would speak through each step and/or say each word aloud as she worked through assignments.  It seemed she had to have a conversation with herself in order to learn. 

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Joy Filled Spirit 😁

What I most appreciated about Gladys, however, was her spirit.  She was naturally joyful, but when she learned a new skill, she became highly animated.  And her joy was expressed in a loud and eager voice.

“Miss Musick, Miss Musick!  Did you hear that?  I read that story!  Want me to tell you all about it?”

“Miss Musick, Miss Musick!  I made change correctly!  You think the store will hire me?  I’ve always wanted to work at a cash register and push all those buttons!”

“Miss Musick, Miss Musick . . .” she sang out with every microstep of progress she made, a smile wide across her face.

On and on, Gladys would talk from the time she entered the classroom until it was time to go home.  On days she was absent, there was a void in the classroom.  However, upon Gladys’ return after an absence, her habit of sing-songing my name twice before asking or telling me something seemed to be in overdrive as if she had been saving up all her questions and thoughts to deposit them into the bank of our classroom.

My grandparents house that was viewed as a “mansion.”

Hope Filled adventure 🚙

I had much hope for Gladys.  So much so that I wrote to her parents and invited Gladys to come home with me after school one evening. She had not ventured out much beyond her “holler” except for school, and I wanted her to practice “applying for a job”.  Her parents agreed to this as long as it occurred on a school night, so Gladys could ride to school with me the next day.

At the time, I lived with my grandparents, 20 or so minutes from the high school.  Talking the entire ride to my grandparents home, I listened as she narrated all of the new things she was seeing for the first time.  When we arrived at the house, Gladys declared that I lived in a “mansion,” which gave me pause to consider what type of home she must live in. 

Once she met my grandparents and deposited her meager bag in the bedroom where she would sleep, I drove her to the fairly new Huntington Mall.  Gladys’ eyes were wide with wonder the entire drive, but when we walked inside the mall, she was beside herself. 

A shopping trip like none other 🛍️

Sounds of  “Miss Musick, Miss Musick!” followed me everywhere we walked. 

While I made a meager salary at that time, I knew I was making more than most of my students’ families brought in.  Therefore, when I could afford it, I would get items of genuine needs for my students, such as socks, sanitary supplies, toiletries, and even clothing items.  It wasn’t unusual for my grandparents to pitch in. With their help, I was able to get Gladys a couple warmer shirts (She mostly wore t-shirts.) and a warm coat for winter.  Plus, a few “fun” items: a packet of hair scrunchies, lip gloss, and a packet of  plastic bracelets that were popular at the time.  

For dinner, I took her to the Big Loafer–classic teenage food at the time–where Gladys talked more than she ate. After dinner, we practiced walking into stores and asking for job applications. It was the first time I ever noticed Gladys appear sheepish or lacking confidence in her own voice.  However, by the end, she could make her request in a clear and competent voice, even asking about interviews.

 I took the applications we gathered and made copies at school for my students, including Gladys, in order for them to practice reading and completing job applications. They also rehearsed appropriate ways to respond to interview questions.  Not that I expected my students to make the two-hour trip to the Huntington Mall to seek employment.  Rather, I wanted them to feel confident enough to apply for nearby jobs once they left high school. 

Hopeful application ✍️

Most of my students’ parents did not work; therefore, one of my biggest dreams for my students was that they would ultimately become gainfully employed and feel a sense of pride that comes from hard work.  I knew that I was fighting a difficult battle, but students like Gladys, whom I taught for two years, filled me with hope. 

Years later, I ran into one of my former co-workers who said that Gladys did indeed have a job at a local convenience store and had saved enough money to buy a used car that someone in her family helped her maintain.  

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Joy is contagious 🤓

If I close my eyes, I can imagine Gladys’ sing-song voice greeting customers and cheerily chirping her way through each customer’s purchase. Gladys found joy in doing.  As a result, her cup of life bubbled and overflowed with contagious delight. One couldn’t help but smile and feel joy when interacting with Gladys. 

Finding joy in our day-to-day tasks and the infectious nature of a smile were the two life lessons Gladys modeled.  How fortunate was I to be her teacher.

See the soul and ignore the story: Lessons from a lifetime of teaching, part 1

Featured by stephsimply, posted in education

Ignore the story and see the soul.  And remember to love. You’ll never regret it.–Seane Corn

First years of teaching 👩‍🏫

Over the decades of teaching, I have accrued numerous experiences.  Several of these stand-out memories occurred during my earlier years of education.  Therefore, in honor of another school year’s conclusion, I will share some of these memories over the coming weeks, and the many lessons these interactions provided. 

My first teaching position was at Kentucky high school in the late 80s.  Newly graduated and exceptionally young, I was ready to change the world.  Like all first year career experiences, the theoretical training of a university was quite different from the reality I faced.  

I was one of five special education teachers.  Our classrooms were separated from the rest of the school.  We were part of the gymnasium facilities, and my classroom was one of three under the visitor’s side of the bleachers. 

Lines of Separation 📚

In order to get to my “classroom,”  I had to walk through two other “classrooms.”  One wall was slanted because it was the underside of the bleachers, and one wall was a rolling chalkboard separating my classroom from another.  One wall was painted concrete block, and the other side was a giant metal wall with a locked door that stored the ROTC weapons.  The desks were mismatched leftovers from a previous era, and classroom supplies were limited.

My first day of school was filled with nerves, and the isolation of my situation led me to feel even more anxious. However, there was little time to dwell on it as the students began arriving.

The Encounter 🗣️

The last student to arrive stood over six feet in height and brawny.  (I would later learn he worked as a hired-hand at various tobacco farms across the county.)  With one cursory glance, he sized me up, spit tobacco on the floor, and picked me by my shirt collar.

“You ain’t teachin’ me nothin.  I ain’t here to learn.  Only here cause it’s the law.”

His startling blue eyes conveyed his disdain for me as we locked eyes.  I knew this was a make or break moment, and I was determined to not break. So I said the most brilliant set of words.

“Put. Me. Down.”

It was an intense moment.  On the inside, I was filled with fear.  Fear I would lose my job after only one day.  Fear I was about to get hurt.  Fear I wasn’t strong enough to withstand the discipline this job would require.

Wordless Truce ☮️

Outwardly, my eyes never wavered from his.  I would not be intimidated by him.  Seconds seemed to stretch, although I am certain this was not a long moment.  However, it was long enough for me to take in the acne scars on his face as well as a few other scars that looked as if he had experienced his fair share of altercations.  His blonde curly hair was cut in a mullet.

I was acutely aware of the other students’ quiet stares taking in the situation as I once more repeated, “Put. Me. Down.”

Through some act of Divine Intervention, or perhaps the I-am-not-messing-around look in my eye, the student put me down.  I recall the way he smugly looked around at the other students as if to convey he had shown me.  

Peace Offering 🕊️

I could have taken him to the office or written his behavior up, but I chose not to.  Even though I was inexperienced, I knew that would immediately build a wall between not only him, but the rest of the students and me.  Instead, I believed I needed to find out more about him, and work on building a relationship with him and the other students. But, I wasn’t sure how, or even if, it could be done.

In the meantime, once things cooled down, I gave him cleaning supplies and asked him to spit out his tobacco in the trashcan and clean up the floor. Then, I walked away and busied myself with other students.  It took several minutes before he started, but he did clean it up.

Seasons of Change 🍁❄️

By late fall, the young man would occasionally engage in conversations with me, especially if I focused on his knowledge of raising tobacco and his work ethic.  He explained that he had worked alongside his dad, but at some point that stopped.

By winter, I had learned that his father was disabled, and no longer worked, but apparently still knew how to lift his arm to drink and hit. This partly explained the young man’s tough-guy persona. The student often stayed overnight with buddies around the county, or during certain parts of the growing season, he’d stay over at the farms on which he was working.

Misdiagnosis 📖

By mid-year, I felt certain that the student was misidentified.  He was no doubt dyslexic, but that had nothing to do with his IQ or his abilities.  There were so many life and reading skills that I wanted to work with him on, but time was running out.  The young man was determined to quit school once he turned 18, even though he was only a junior. 

One class in which this young man thrived was shop.  He could build and repair seemingly anything.  One of the special education teachers often talked about the young man’s talent and sometimes hired this student for work on the teacher’s farm.

By March, I had established a good working relationship with the student.  I teased him about his haircut and cowboys boots, and he made jokes about my height and “easy” job. Along with the other students, he learned to read and complete job applications, manage a budget, how to dress/act during a job interview, and even how to plan, shop, and prepare a week’s worth of simple meals. He was even reading short books with adapted text about famous athletes. 

Rumor Has It 😔

One day in April, the young man did not show up for school.  That wasn’t unusual.  Many of my students had irregular attendance.  After his third consecutive day of absence, I went to see an administrator to inquire about the student’s absence. He said he would check into it, but the gossip among students said he wasn’t coming back. The young man had had his birthday.

I have no idea what became of this student.  I would like to think the best, but I am not so sure.  Maybe he has a job, family, and even grandkids by now.  I can only hope, but I’ll most likely never know..

Lessons learned 📝

Nevertheless, I am grateful for this student.  He was the first to teach me to ignore the bluster of the student’s story, and see their soul–see the person they can be at their best self and recognize their potential.  I accepted him as he was, envisioned a better future for him, and tried to help him see it too.  

He also taught me that no matter how hard I work with students, they are still individuals who will determine their own fate.  That was, and still remains, a hard lesson to swallow.  So instead, I will focus on his best, albeit unintentional, gift:  See the soul, not the story.  You will never regret it; I haven’t yet.