I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my teachers of students with significant disabilities and the challenges and questions they’ve struggled with over the past years. They work to get their students to a bar that, for the most part, no one has defined. They are, in so many cases, cordoned off to a different part of the school, resembling the age when the “mentally ill” were committed to an asylum, rather than an age where inclusion is supposed to be the norm in public schools.
In some ways, I realize that the majority of people somewhat understand the plight of these kids. Everyone, no matter what socioeconomic bracket you hail from, has interacted with a person with a significant disability, since these conditions are no respecter of race or class. I would venture to say that more fundraisers and foundations exist to race money for Autism or Cerebral Palsy research than to eliminate the achievement gap that exists along socioeconomic and racial lines. Yet, in most public schools, there is consistently little knowledge about what these students should be working on, nor belief in what they are capable of.
Those of us who are passionate about equitable education are, in general, motivated by a strong core belief that every child, every person, deserves a fair chance at success. We also assume, I would guess, that embedded in “success” is finding happiness and satisfaction in this short life we’ve been given.
I believe that those who work with students with significant disabilities very quickly find the heart of this belief and where it rings true to them. They know they won’t have a student call them in 10 years to tell them THEY are the reason they became a writer, or receive a full ride to a four-year university. In fact, many of their students, who are unable to communicate in a traditional way, will never be able to say “thank you” to the teacher who taught them the skills they needed to maintain human dignity – feeding themselves, independently using the restroom, or asking for help. Also, in most cases, sadly enough, if these teachers DON’T do their jobs, no one will be standing there, demanding that their students perform to the best of their abilities.
But still they teach – they teach sign language, picture communication, push-button communication. They teach utensil holding, following a schedule, calling home. In many instances, they teach money skills, reading, and writing. They teach following directions and reading safety signs. They teach students to interact with books in a meaningful way, greet others, and shake hands. In some cases, they teach students no one has tried to teach before.
These teachers don’t teach the next doctor, lawyer, or president. Many of their students, no matter how much they improve their skills, will never “contribute to society” in an economic sense. Instead, these teachers embody what I believe we are all called to do: help others because it’s the right thing to do. Because it makes another individual’s life better. Because despite the fact that these students will not, in most cases, be able to tell their stories, their lives, their dignity, and their happiness still matters.
No doubt those of us (myself included) who have taught more typically-functioning students do so for these same reasons. But it is awesome to watch these acts of selflessness happen every day in their classrooms in such pure form.
Of course, any of these teachers will tell you that they've learned more from their students than they have from them. And it's true. If you're a teacher, if you haven't already, invite these students into your classroom. And thank the teachers that work patiently and selflessly with them.
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