Touching the Future

Today, I'm not writing as a parent.  I'm not writing as a person with ADHD.  I'm writing as a teacher.  I had a profoundly moving experience this afternoon.  I'm going into my eleventh year of teaching students with mild to moderate disabilities.  I average five to seven new students each year.  I'm terrible with names and recognizing faces, especially when its been awhile since I've seen someone.

I was in the library this afternoon working on visual schedules.  From where I was standing, I could see the door to my classroom.  I happened to see a young man peeking in my room.  He looked a lot like Michael Orr, the football player of "The Blindside" fame.  He saw the room was empty, so he turned to leave.  I called out, "Are you looking for me?"

That young man turned around, smiled, and said, "Yes, ma'am."  I nearly fell over.

I'm going to call him John.  The first time I met John, he was in second grade.  The annual "Mother's Day Tea" was in full swing, with doting moms and grandmas all over the place.  John, however, was under a low table, in a handsome pink shirt, crying his eyes out.  His mother was unable to come.  Maybe she forgot, or maybe she couldn't get off work, or maybe she couldn't get a ride.  But John was heartbroken, and none of the other teachers could coax him out.

I approached the table, knelt down, and pretended to cry myself.  "I can't believe it!" I gushed.  "I was supposed to be here to get to be someone's special guest.  And I can't find anyone to be with.  Please, PLEASE tell me you'll let me be your guest!"

John perked right up and gave me a beautiful smile.  I tell you- he was the most attentive little guy.  I had lots and lots of treats, and my cup was never empty of a drink.

I got to work with him off and on through the next three years.  When frustrated, he would look at me, shaking his head, muttering, "Mashugana."  He consistently wore pink, and he was handsome as could be.  Homework was a problem, as was staying serious and on-task in class.  There were tears fairly frequently.

So I was looking at this young man, who had just "ma'am-ed" me and towered over my 5'8" by several more inches.  "John?"  (I was terrified I would get the wrong name.  I remembered the table, the shirt, the mashuganas... but the name!)  And he smiled.  I hugged him and asked him lots of questions.  He's seventeen.  Going into eleventh grade.  Doing well in school.  More ma'ams.  I gave him another hug and told him to come find me when he graduates- I'll have a present for him. (I don't know what- any ideas, cyberspace?) 

I hope like anything that G and J can bring that feeling to a teacher someday.  I feel like I'm such a small part of my students' lives, especially since there's such a long time between elementary school and graduation from high school.  The moral of my story?  Go tell your teachers how much they've impacted you.  Tell them about the things that may be small and insignificant, because your encouragement may make their day, their week, their year.  Spread some love!

"I touch the future.  I teach."  Christa Macauliffe