As the end of my work year approaches, I am faced with being assessed and of assessing my own performance over the past months of my employment. Needless to say this is not really my idea of a good time, however I understand it's importance, and that there are incredibly valuable life lessons to be processed and absorbed from the positive and negative experiences I've had. I'd rather treat my supervisor and myself to ice cream and talk about the crazy stuff that happened, but that's not how public education actually works. Rather, I must rehash the last six months of my work life, in too often painful ways, and hope that I will do better next time around. That said, I will continue to repeat my mantra "water off a duck's back" as my "growth points" are highlighted for me. And I will do my best to hear and incorporate the positive words and reinforcements that I know I will receive as well.
So, what have I experienced over the past six months? As a student replied to me not long ago, when asked how many monkeys were dangling above the plastic barrel, "A lot." And although the answer was correct, I happened to be going for a specific number value, and I suspect that my supervisor will be doing the same thing. And yet, I also suspect that my supervisor will be looking at the "a lot" just as much as at the numbers. You see, in public education, specifically special education, there is much that we cannot quantify with numbers or letter grades, despite the efforts of legislators, governors, and other elected officials. The fact that I have been able to foster a relationship built upon trust, consistency, and genuine concern for the well-being of another person who desperately needed and desired this, simply cannot be summed up by any written symbol. This remarkable evolution between two people is beyond the scope of ratings systems. It is quite frankly beyond a great many people's comprehension.
More importantly, it is something that neither individual in this situation is expected to be able to do, based upon medical and/or psychological diagnoses. Though I will never violate the confidentiality of my students, I can discuss my own struggles with making friends and forming appropriate relationships with other people. I can and have discussed some of my past trials in education and the traumatic ways that it shaped me. I was bullied as a child because of my "differentness" and I continue to work to build my self esteem and believe people when they compliment my efforts and my work. Having learning disabilities, being on the autism spectrum, having a mental illness, having a parent with mental illness, living with the secret of gender identity issues, living with the secrets of intersex condition symptoms, and just plain being quirky have all shaped the man I am today. And they were all reasons to bully, separate, harm, ostracize, exclude, and hurt me as well, most often by peers. I did not have many friends growing up and my students rarely do either. We are often just a little too different to be able to make, keep, and sustain traditional friendships, largely because our brains are not wired that way.
So, the dorky, nerdy, geeky, dweeby, etc. kids eventually become friends with each other and find kindred spirits. Sometimes they go on to wreak havoc in the world, committing crimes, seemingly senseless acts of violence, endangering others, and not "living up to their potential." Sometimes, though, they turn out to be Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, Mark Zuckerberg, Dr. Temple Grandin, Albert Einstein, or an Ed Tech in an elementary school working with kids diagnosed as being on the autism spectrum. As the old joke goes, "It's either Jail or Yale..."
It is a great irony that is not lost on me that I hated, truly hated, going to school as a child. And now, I get up every day excited and enthusiastic about going to work, in a school. Yep, I have chosen to go to the very place that had a stranglehold on my young psyche, a place that I believed that I would never succeed in, no matter how hard I tried. And G-d knows I tried. By the time I was in high school I spent 3 times as long on homework and reading assignments as my classmates did, and although I was considered "smart" I struggled with written exams and being able to express my thoughts on paper. My only real successes came in playing tuba in the marching band and being involved with the behind-the-scenes work of theater. School was simply a nightmare for me. I never imagined that someday I would find myself right in the middle of that environment by choice. And yet, here I am, loving every minute of the educational team and practices that I am in.
And as I look back over the past 6 months I see other things that I have learned and incorporated into my life as well. First and foremost I have learned to remove myself, or more specifically, my ego, from many situations. I have learned that when something is bothering someone it is better to find out what is going on with them, rather than assuming that it has something to do with me. Because as it turns out, very little of what the people around me are concerned with has to do with me in any shape, form, or matter. Most people are focused on themselves and spend far more time and energy thinking about what they are doing and almost no time on the people around them. So, I've learned to step back, breathe, repeat my mantra "Water off a duck's back," and wait. Just wait, and find out what that person needs, if anything at all, from me. I don't have to have all the answers. I don't have to have any of the answers. My job is to wait, to listen, and to do what is asked of me. I have learned how to do that more successfully over the past 6 months than in any other setting in my life.
Second on the list is that I have learned to let things play out, to unfold as they will without my intervention, and if necessary to let the system itself fail. Sometimes in life we believe that we know the answer, or we have the best solution, or that we are right and the other person is wrong when it comes to a particular challenge. And in fact, sometimes we do. Sometimes we are right about an outcome and could have altered the result to something more productive. At the same time we cannot deny someone else the opportunity to fail, or the system that this individual is working within to fail. Rarely do we learn from our successes that came without trial and many errors. It is a vital life lesson to learn how to fail and be able to recover. Each time I do not accomplish a certain goal I am able to reflect on why it didn't happen and what I can do differently in the future. So for all those individuals who say that "failure is not an option" I believe that sometimes failure is the best option and it will lead us into greater triumphs if we are willing to follow the new direction we are offered.
The last major item on the list of what I have learned is that I have at last found my calling, and have been granted the human and the Divine approval that I need and deserve for reaching this place on the journey. It has come in many forms to me that I am called to a life of behavioral and mental health ministry within the context of public education. I am acutely aware and in support of the separation of church and state, particularly in the elementary schools of the United States of America, as ours is a pluralistic nation that has not been able to embrace a universal moral code of ethics to truly guide it. There are a multitude of religious options available to the people who choose to live in the U.S., yet there is a distinct lack of tolerance and acceptance for the many options and for those who choose options that are not what is considered to be the "right" one(s). Yet all of that does not alter my own understanding of a call to ministry within a secular setting.
I have heard the words that came from Dr. Temple Grandin after I had shared with her about my choice to work rather than collect disability payments. She replied, "That made my day. Even if I have to miss my plane, that made my day." She asked me what I did for work and I told her that I teach young children who have been diagnosed as being on the autism spectrum. "And I bet you love it," she stated. Yes, I answered emphatically, I love my job. "Good." spoke Dr. Grandin. That was the Divine approval I had needed. I was able to hear that I was following G-d's call for me.
I later found myself in the middle of a Mother's Day project in school. The classroom teacher painted the hands and feet of the 19 children who then pressed them on to large sheets of paper to make flowers with great leaves surrounding them as pictures for their mothers. As she applied the green paint with a brush that tickled their feet, she would then place them on the paper, imprints of fleeting childhood preserved as a reminder of the impermanence of these precious years. And as I knelt beside her I washed each child's feet in the bucket of soapy water in front of me. I was on my knees, cleaning away the paint, the dirt, and whatever else was on those little feet and toes, and I felt that Divine approval again. I knew that I was serving. It was my job to help these children do something they couldn't physically do themselves yet, particularly in a classroom setting. Yes, the metaphor, the christian imagery, the religious nature of the experience was blatant, but the meaning was far deeper. I knelt there smiling, happy, relaxed, comfortable, and comforted that I was able to do this and be myself at the same time. Mr. Hilton was washing kindergarteners' feet. I was there for them and not myself.
Awhile ago I had a conversation about faith and religion with a colleague of mine. She ascribes to a far more fundamentalist and evangelical brand of faith than I do, still she made an excellent point in stating that she didn't have to talk about G-d in school to keep G-d in her heart and share that love with her students.
And recently while in a room with her during an incident I was reminded of her belief, and consequently my own. I sat in a room watching another human being, a very young one at that, suffering from the sometimes beast of autism, learned behaviors, quirky wiring, confusion, fear, frustration, and pain that was physically spilling out of this little body and permeating all of us as well. I sat feeling discouraged that I had not been able to intervene in a meaningful way. I felt sad that it had come to this point. I was unsure of my own abilities and what I was feeling as I witnessed it all. And then I saw my colleague kneeling as she held the child's feet to prevent kicking, and I knew that my role at that moment was to pray. And I prayed deeply from within myself. I prayed from within my heart, the room already too crowded with distress, my prayers were silent to all except G-d. I asked G-d to show all the love, comfort, support, and mercy that is G-d, to this child. I prayed for safety for the child. I prayed that the child would feel the love and support from G-d and from us. I prayed for this child of G-d. And in what felt like a few heartbeats, the calm, still, small voice of G-d breathed fresh air into that tiny room. In a matter of moments the meltdown was over and it took less than 4 minutes. It was a moment of true grace.
All of these things and so many more have been the beacon lights in my journey over the past 6 months and I know within myself how important, valid, and real my call to teaching is.
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| 21st century java! |
In fact, that very differentness, weirdness, otherness that set me apart from peers when I was young, now sets me apart from my peers in a brilliant, rather than in a tragic way. I understand what my students are living through and I can help them all the more because of it. I know what the hell feels like. I understand being on the outside. I understand being disliked. I understand not being understood. I don't have to try to put myself in their shoes, I already am. And just knowing that is the best progress I can ask for from myself or my students.
Thank you for continuing to journey with me as we walk with the feet we've been given.
Be well, love your neighbor as you love yourself, and remember to actually love yourself.
-Ari
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| Listening for the Call |
