The Tape Recorder

This week I head to student teaching orientation.  I am nervous and excited all the same.    It’s a day I thought would never come.   There are tears in my eyes as I think about the idea that I am that much closer to becoming a teacher.

I remember sitting at the wooden table in the back of Mrs. Bew’s third grade classroom recording my answers to a Social Studies test on a tape recorder.   My handwriting went on a downward slant and I couldn’t write fast enough to finish my test in a single class.   So, we gave the tape recorder a try.   It wasn’t a long-term solution to testing but one that I’ve always remembered.   As I prepare for orientation this week, I cannot help but think that I once used a tape recorder to demonstrate my knowledge of Social Studies and now I’m ALMOST a Social Studies educator--- there’s something really special about that for me!

The tape recorder anecdote  is the reason I firmly believe that every student has the ability to reach his or her full potential.  If there’s a will to learn to there’s a way to teach!  

Learning to Follow My Heart

 A few weeks before college graduation I met with a distinguished group of faculty who told me that my learning disabilities made me “unfit to be an educator.”  I was devastated.  The same people who taught me that every student could succeed were now telling me that I wouldn’t and shouldn’t teach.

In the days that followed my hope dwindled...  Maybe, I wasn’t meant to teach. Nonetheless I had always considered myself a teacher at heart.  (And still needed a summer job.)  So, I filled out an application to intern with UrbanPromiseCharlotte, a Christian ministry with a mission to “provide students and teens with spiritual, academic, and social support they need to be leaders in their communities.”     

 I never imagined that my summer would begin with celebrating a group of eleven high school seniors who had all been the first in their families to be accepted to college. It was a gift to be part of this celebration.   As a young woman who had just been told that she was “unfit to be an educator” because of her disabilities----I was living every great educator’s dream: To help young people celebrate their greatest potential and discover their purpose.  

 Nearly two years later, that first class of UrbanPromise teens are all sophomores in college and I am finishing my final semester of graduate school as an education student.    My UrbanPromise students have taught me so much about teaching, learning and life.  They give me HOPE!  It’s amazing what teachers can learn from their students!

Things I’ve learned from my students:

•  Prayer is powerful and necessary!
•  Connecting with students takes time and once it’s done it is something that a teacher will never ever forget.
•  Students   know exactly what it means to accept, respect,  & love, others as long as it is continuously modeled for them.
• If I ask a student how they are… the answer will not always be good.  (And I need to be prepared to listen).
•  Students might not like to read but they’ll listen when you read to them.
• When I read with students it makes them feel special!
•  If I ask a student what they learned at school…. sometimes, they’ll tell me nothing related to core subject material.
• Students listen to what their teachers say more than they will ever admit!
• If I tell my students to NEVER GIVE UP on their dreams than I must NEVER GIVE UP!

My UrbanPromise students and their staff have inspired me to believe in my abilities and to follow my heart!  This week UrbanPromise opened a new site in West Charlotte. This means that more students will find joy in knowing God’s love is ALWAYS available and they have  freedom to be the best version of themselves!   

To learn more about UrbanPromiseCharlotte check out this link:www.urbanpromisecharlotte.org/ 

Conquering Challenge with an Index Card

In my first  semester of graduate school my professor was quick to tell us that there is no such thing as being just a teacher!   The lessons we teach reach far beyond the classroom.  This lesson changed my life! 

The 7th grade was a year of unforgettable memories.  The ice cream socials, the science fair, choir practice, and the spring spent in neon pick casts after extensive surgery on my lower extremities. I knew that surgery was a solution to the tightness of my hamstrings caused by cerebral palsy. However, the process takes a physical and emotional toll on an individual.  As I tried to fight the nervousness, my temperature reached a boiling 101 degrees.  The heat of the moment gave me the chance to realize that that the enthusiasm to overcome obstacles is entirely up to us. 

I don’t remember much of going into the operating room; it is the recovery that sticks in my mind like bubble gum stuck to the bottom of a shoe. I spent a week in the hospital where the only separation between the next patient and me was a thin white curtain. The noises from her room echoed as if I were standing in a large empty house listening to her speak.  Mom lay beside me on a cot that was as hard as rock. The taste of slimy no sugar added apple sauce mixed with bitter white medicine was always present on my tongue. She eagerly crossed off the days on the calendar until we could leave the hospital and find comfort in sleeping in our own beds. I still had a long road ahead of me but the phrase “home sweet home” takes on new meaning when you are caring for your daughter.  It means even more to the daughter who didn’t quite realize how rigorous the operation would be.         

We finally made it home after what seemed like forever.  Our dining room was  tranfigured  into my living space with my bed and a television. The scent of fresh laundry detergent lingered as I held my blanket close. After all, I couldn’t walk anywhere, especially upstairs.  I began to work with a physical therapist almost immediately, as it was extremely important that I gain mobility. Otherwise, the operation would’ve been useless. To complicate the situation , we would be moving to North Carolina at the end of June.

 I remember the first time I tried to walk in the kitchen with the assistance of my walker. Unfortunately, one of the wheels became stuck in a groove in the tile, and I landed straight on my bottom.     Then there was that beautiful spring day when I was once again strong enough to go watch my sister play soccer. I was her biggest fan. It made me even more proud to make it to my favorite restaurant for mint chocolate chip ice cream and peanut butter cups until an old woman looked at me and said, “She’s much too young to need a walker.”       

 I was red in the face as I rushed to the door. I had worked endlessly to gain the physical strength and confidence to leave home. As far as everyone besides the old lady was concerned, I was moving like the motor of a new car. Soon the casts would come off and there would be no more digging inside them to scratch an itch with a pencil eraser.

As time passed, I felt comfortable enough to walk on my cast. I bragged to family and friends that I would be the new and improved walking Julie when the casts came off. Smiles and laugher surrounded me as I celebrated success with loved ones. I entered the hospital with excitement rather than with the nervousness that had caused my fever on the day of surgery. I would be able to walk “normally.” That’s what I thought, anyway, until I took my first awkward step onto the parking lot pavement. My leg was numb and stiff; it hurt to move again even after all the improvement that I had made.   I thought it could not get worse, but it did.

I had just finished a short walk down the sidewalk with my physical therapist.    However; short doesn’t always mean simple.   It takes determination to move when you’re that weak.    There was always the constant reminder to pick up my feet. My reward for a job well done was the feeling of happiness that consumed me. I was scheduled to return to school the next day. The joy of being a student is what I missed most, and that was truly the only thing I wanted. I sat patiently on the stairs as my therapist discussed my session with my mom, and toward the end of the conversation, we all spoke of my eagerness to return to school. However, my PT questioned as to whether I had tried to put a sneaker on my foot. This was a thought that hadn’t crossed my mind. Nonetheless, Mom went to get me a pair of tennis shoes.  I took the shoe from her and clutched my ankle as I always do, guiding my foot in the downward motion. It was like pulling teeth. I began to cry, and giving me a hug, she took the shoe back from me thinking that if she loosened the laces, it might be easier. So, I wiped the tears from my eyes and started again.   This time tears fell like rain from the sky. I managed to walk upstairs gripping the railing as if it was going to become detached from the wall. I wailed for an hour, and then just laid on my bedroom floor in silence.         

My thoughts weren’t directed toward anyone in my family, but rather toward my middle school principal who had always talked about setting goals and creating high expectations for ourselves as individuals. I distinctly remembered him sharing his personal success of writing down goals. In fact, to this day I still recall him pulling out an index card from his pocket and reciting his goals to us as young 7^th graders. So, I pulled an index card from my desk and wrote my first goal in gigantic letters. SMILE!  If I could do that, then certainly the rest of my journey would be easy. I won’t let my challenges defeat me, but instead I will defeat them.

Lessons on Learning Differently

 I met a middle school student who struggled with the idea that he had a learning disability.  His principal  (one of my greatest mentors) explained that I was also a student who learned differently.  He was brave enough to share that others teased him for needing extra help.   So, I told him that I also needed more than one teacher in my classes when I was in middle school just like him. Now, I was studying to be a teacher.  I went on to tell him that having extra support in the classroom was actually really cool! I also told him that I believed in his ability to reach his goals.

Our meeting was an opportunity for me to reflect on what having a disability has taught me.   Teaching young people with and without learning disabilities  that learning differently isn’t a bad thing is really important to me.   Here’s what I think students with learning disabilities need to know.

1.     Learning differently is tough BUT it’s OK!

2.     It’s all right to be upset with those who mock you for learning differently.  NEVER  GIVE UP on your goals!

3.     Don’t ever feel like you aren’t smart! 

4.     Most of the time when people laugh at you, it’s only a reaction to what they don’t understand.  

5.     Find an adult you can share your feelings with away from your classmates. Sharing your feelings is important just share them with people who can help you!

6.     When people laugh at you because you learn differently, they want a reaction from you.  Don’t give it to them! The pause button is really important!!

7.     If it helps, write down the good things other people say about you and put them in your pencil case or somewhere you can get to them easily during the day and read them at lunchtime.

8.     Chances are there isn’t a whole lot you can do about how you learn---- Just focus on being the BEST you!!

9.     Remember, for every one person that teases you there’s one that cares about you! If

10.  Always Always give your greatest effort to your studies but, remember that there is more to you than learning differently!  There is at least one thing you do really well!

11.  You’ll learn everything you need to know. It just might not be how or when your classmates learn it.  And that’s 110 % OK.

12.  Knowing you learn differently gets easier as you figure out how you learn.  Your parents and teachers will help you figure out how to make your struggles easier.

13.   You are creative and courageous! 

Owning My Story

Owning My Story

 I studied history in college.  As a budding historian, my professors always challenged me to understand why facts and people mattered.  I could use almost any piece of evidence to prove a point as long as it was followed by: This is significant because….  This is to say that facts without reason don’t craft a compelling story.

My family and mentors have encouraged me to share my story as a book, blog, or even as an inspirational speaker.  I have constantly  struggled with where to begin my story.   Then, I applied the basic principles of writing history to writing my own story.    My story is significant because I am a young woman with cerebral palsy who doesn’t give up.  My purpose is to give to others the hope that has been given to me.  

The first step to sharing a story is to recognize that it is significant!