“Listen,” I say softly, “there are a lot of things that you can’t control right now, but there are also a lot that you CAN control. I need you to focus on what *you* can control.”
I’d swear I can hear this child nod. We pause, silent for a moment, letting this idea settle.
“Let’s make a list,” I say. “I’ll start. You can control when you take breaks. Are you taking breaks?”
“Um. Yeah, I guess.”
“So let’s start with that.”
We talk for over half an hour. I cradle the receiver to my ear and help one child take back a sense of agency, a sense that they are capable of learning even in a system that seems designed to take advantage of every weakness inherent in their learning disability. I hang up, exhausted but content. I know that the problems aren’t actually fixed – both parents and teachers are spiralling as they try to figure out how to help – but I also know that I’ve helped give this kid a little shelter from the storm. Hopefully this will be enough to allow him to find his footing, remember his strengths, and forge ahead.
This is the Special Education work I want to do. This is the work I’ve been missing at the beginning of this pandemic-infused school year. Lately, I’ve found myself remembering the words of my Spec Ed mentor from years ago: The kids always come first. The system will tell you that the paperwork comes first, but it’s wrong. Miss every deadline you need to in order to support the kids.
The last few weeks have exhausted me. I thought I was embodying my mentor’s words, but I’ve realized that, in fact, given the restrictions on seeing students and the system’s insatiable need for accountability, I have actually been putting paperwork first. Most of my phone calls have been about IEPs, not about helping. Oh, I thought I was asking about the kids, but I was actually working through a list, making sure I had checked all the boxes. I’m embarrassed to realize it, but the kids were coming second, the myriad phone calls really in service of a form.
What’s important to me are relationships and people. What’s important is listening, believing and creating space for growth. If I am going to thrive in this moment, I am going to have to find my joy – because my joy is what allows me to reach out, is what allows me to support, to help, to encourage.
I lean away from the phone and find solace in my lonely office, away from the colleagues and students. What can I control?I ask myself. Am *I* taking breaks? I stand up, stretch, don my mask, and head across the hallway to make myself a tea.
I can control how I interact with students: I will use the phone to connect with students who might not otherwise ask for help. (In fact, I am astonished by the kids who are reaching out now compared to the kids who came to the Spec Ed room before.) I will make time for long conversations when they are necessary. I will proactively reach out to students who I hear may be struggling. I will put students first.
I can control how I interact with teachers: I will use our new, complicated school day to offer a different kind of support for teachers. I can share Google classrooms with them and offer ideas for UDL when teachers ask me about this. I will offer breaks so they can breathe during these long days. I will find ways to teach that are not dependent upon having a class.
I love being a teacher. Teaching is written into my very being. I know what brings me joy. Now, even in the midst of this most unusual time, I can decide to pursue the joy available in this moment and remember that the deadlines are about systems and I am about people.
Later in the day, I learned that my student’s parent had called the principal. The storm winds continued to blow, but the parent also reported that my conversation with their son had been really helpful: “I don’t know what she said, but it’s the first time I’ve seen him smile in days.”
Ah, there’s the joy.
11 thoughts on “Finding my joy”
Such a wonderful reminder (actually more than one reminder). The kids always come first and the kids bring joy! It’s great that the mom recognized your impact.
I so often think how systems – and all the checklists – are completely counterproductive to the results they want to get, in this case, supporting students. Some of it is needed; much is unreasonable, even costly. Yet as educators we try to do all that’s expected of us, even as our internal discomfort balloons… you captured that well here, and link it well to what you can and can’t control (just as in the opening with the student). The crowning line: “I can decide to pursue the joy available in this moment and remember that the deadlines are about systems and I am about people.” Bravo! For your voice and your choice! Because there ALWAYS is a choice – even in not choosing. Joy is a choice. What a gift to hear back about the student smiling … as I battled horrid Internet connectivity the other day, meeting with a struggling first grader who’d finally begun showing up, she signed off with “Love you.” = worth it. A little gem of joy to carry with me. Thank you for your truths and heart, Amanda!
A beautiful reminder of the importance and joy in the work that we do. This time is trying for many of us, and as you so eloquently put, is taking us away from all that we love about teaching. Thank you for reminding me to find the joy.
My job as gifted teacher is also under the umbrella of SPED that seems to be more afraid of lawsuits than they are of getting it right with the kids. Ugh! The paperwork can make you crazy. The comfort of a caring teacher is what your students and mine need right now, not a virtual learning plan or IEP or absentee report or… Here’s to finding the joy, finding the moments that make it all worthwhile, making a real difference.
🙏👏You have just given me the framework for a focus group I am attending on GBA+ analysis of my workplace’s telework policy. I suspect you have hit upon a universal truth of bureaucracy and administrative policies – process over people = no joy. I can’t speak to learning, but given all that is known about humans and productivity, this approach to people seems entirely counterproductive. Seems a safe bet that it is not a win for producing engaged, educated, ‘productive’ humans from our schools either.
The advice to miss every deadline you need to in order to support the kids is sound. Paperwork can wait. People cannot.
Keep doing this amazing work, Amanda. You are so needed right now!
What an important reminder that kids come first. I also love how your reminder to the student was important for you as well. I am so thankful you’re there to be a lifeline to these many students and so glad that parent reached out to share your positive impact with the principal.
Paperwork really can wait! That’s excellent advice. I’m all caught up in worrying about some paperwork and webinars that have to be done before the end of September (not worrying enough to skip Tuesday blogging apparently!) and I have to keep reminding myself that I’ve been doing really important work setting my students up for a successful year. Knowing the symbols that denote dangerous chemicals in a workplace isn’t my priority. (And if I don’t do the webinars will they give me a day off to get them done?) You are worrying about supporting social emotional needs and that really is the most important thing. *breathe*
This is such an important post. I really needed the reminder to take control of what I can and to focus on what’s really important – our students. You made an impact with your student. That’s what counts. Thank you for this.
“The kids always come first. The system will tell you that the paperwork comes first, but it’s wrong. Miss every deadline you need to in order to support the kids.” <— This is gold. I wish every administrator and school board honcho could have this taped to his/her/their computer monitor. Because it IS all about the kids. Not the numbers, the spreadsheets, or actionables. The kids.
And I totally gave you an air-high-five (with misty eyes) at the end of your post.