"Free to be...you and me..."

"…Every boy in this land grows to be his own man
In this land, every girl grows to be her own woman
Take my hand, come with me where the children are free
Come with me, take my hand, and we'll run

To a land where the river runs free
To a land through the green country
To a land to a shining sea
To a land where the horses run free
To a land where the children are free
And you and me are free to be
And you and me are free to be
And you and me are free to be you and me"
-     The New Seekers

I was a new teacher with my very own class of 6 to 8 year old little boys who had been institutionalized for developmental disabilities.  I was hopeful and eager.  I couldn't wait to make a difference.  It didn't matter one bit to me that only one of my guys could speak in full sentences and only three were out of diapers.  I was a TEACHER!!  It was the only profession, outside of motherhood (and someday being a civil rights attorney), that I had ever aspired to. 

From the time I was 10 years old with five younger siblings I was, in my spare time, "Mrs. French" (okay, sidenote:  there was a little boy in my fifth grade class whose last name was French and I thought it meant he was French, which seemed soooo cool, so I stole his last name for my teacher-self).  Mrs. French would make all her siblings (who were young enough to think she was really a teacher just because she said she was) sit on the floor in her bedroom and learn to count and add.   Mrs. French would read "Green Eggs and Ham" out loud with Oscar-deserving expressed animation.  Mrs. French would prepare little sandwiches for her students to eat in the "lunch room".  Mrs. French was firm, but nice.  In my mind, Mrs. French was "practically perfect in every way"…or so she thought her students thought her to be.

By the time I finally became a teacher I had an arsenal of Mary Poppins-like tricks stored up my sleeves.  I had years of hopes and expectations for my "someday" students.   I had more than a life-time of dreaming about blackboards and chalk, Dr. Seuss and Curious George, practiced Palmer-method penmanship and hand-made grade books filled with A- and C+s perfectly written in little graph-paper boxes.

But my new classroom of boys weren't able to sit down long enough for even one page of the antics of a monkey named George, and they would never take home a report card filled with hard-earned letter grades and glowing narratives. These little boys (and their little girl counterparts in a neighboring building) would never leave the institution their parents had committed them to.  These children might learn to make eye-contact and eat properly with a spork, but they were not expected to ever be trusted with pencils and chalk…much less handle a book with gentle respect.

My first few days were harrowing.  I carefully edged myself along the cinderblock walls that lined our classroom, keeping everyone, and everything, in sight.  A randomly hurled chair had landed my predecessor in the hospital for months and I didn't have any desire to start collecting disability at 21 years old.   

One day into the second or third week, I suddenly realized that when I sang hymns to myself (in order to calm my own fears) they calmed down too.  And then I noticed that they really liked the soft scent of the baby powder I wore and would gather around me each morning...not to bump into me mindlessly, but because they wanted to be near me...I started to look forward to my days with them.  Yes, they were as scattered and un-focused as baby chicks in a barnyard.  But they were sweet and eager to please and there were so many things they needed to learn just in order to live in-community with one another and the staff that cared for them.  It wasn't long before I knew that I had to let go of every starry-eyed image of what I thought my life as a teacher would be like, or I would never be able to fully embrace the class that I had been given.

My professional goals for myself as a teacher, however, stayed the same.  I would be consistent, calm, persistent, joyful, and enthusiastic about the curriculum.  I would be respectful, kind, fair and honest with my colleagues.  I would be innovative, inspired, thoughtful and creative in my use of learning tools and materials.  I would be expectant, patient, understanding, honest, loving and clear with my students.  I would teach according to their learning…not expect them to learn according to my teaching.  I would participate in a student-centric learning environment…rather than a teacher driven one.   All that really changed was what I thought the outcomes had to look like. 

When I let go of academic milestones like "counting to 10, sounding out all consonants phoenetically, and completing a 10 piece puzzle in less than three minutes", and accepted new milestones like "was able to let go of anger, did not become frustrated with himself, allowed himself to be helped"…I became the kind of teacher I didn't even know I could hope to become.

I spent my early teaching career in one classroom after another within this institution working with a full range of developmentally challenged children.  In each setting my goals and expectations for myself as a teacher never changed…they evolved…but never changed.

When a cross-country move necessitated a change in schools, I left with a heavy heart.  I had learned to love teaching in a way I never imagined.  My next teaching assignment was with high functioning gifted and talents students.  But my goals and expectations for myself, as a teacher, never changed. 

"Free to Be - You and Me" (I hope this link is a fun trip down memory lane for some of you) was an album I would play every morning in those early days of teaching my little group of 6 through 8 year old boys.  I would sing and dance around the classroom like a butterfly, a bouncy "Tigger", a wood sprite, a crazy bumble bee, or a silly bear before we started our long days of repeating simple tasks hundreds of times over and over again.  It's lyrics would remind me that there isn't just one way to be…there are hundreds of thousands, millions and zillions of way to be.  My job was to help them discover the best "me" they could be that day.  It was as much the same for my little guys who were learning to hold a spoon, as it was for my gifted students who were taking college prep calculus courses in the 5th grade.  

This is still my favorite thing to do…
Kate