**Disclaimer: You may want to grab a snack and a cold beverage because this is a rather long post, but it's SO good and DEFINITELY WORTH YOUR WHILE TO READ IT! You may also wish to have a box of Kleenex nearby because chances are good it's going to tear up your heart strings. You may proceed...*
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| 3E Love - Embrace. Educate. Empower. |
I guess today would be a good day to tell you MY story of how I got into this exciting field of special education, furthermore, working with children and adults with disABILITIES!
Growing up, I didn't always make friends easily. I was in gifted classes in school, liked to read more than socialize, I was the epitome of nerdiness. In first grade, we had a kid in our class named Alex. Alex was an absolute sweetheart. He lived in my neighborhood (had a purebred Dalmatian who later became the daddy of my dog, Pepper... but that's a different story). Alex had blonde hair and a smile that could melt a heart of stone. I saw Alex as just another kid. But Alex was a little different. Alex had Down Syndrome but his outlook on life was on the "upside" of Down Syndrome. I remember this day like it was yesterday.
It was in the first grade and we were all sitting on the carpet in Mrs. Childress's classroom, getting ready to watch a movie. One fluorescently lit panel flickered in the back of the room. The afternoon sun was peeking in through the closed blinds. Mrs. Childress turned on the VCR (which, for my younger readers, was an ancient device also called a videocassette recorder. Sometimes it would be mounted to the classroom tv set or come on a cart, squeaking down the hallway to a classroom who wasn't lucky enough to already have one). I forget what movie it was that we were watching but most likely one of the Disney variety. Alex was sitting cross-legged in front of me. He had a rather large head, which is commonly associated with Down Syndrome. I squiggled and squirmed to try and find a way to see the tv screen. I got comfortable and was ready to settle in and be dazzled by Walt Disney's cinematic splendors. About halfway through the film, Alex looked back at me and smiled. Then he scooted forward a little ways and laid his head in my lap. He asked, "Can I watch the movie here?" or something to that effect. I didn't have the heart or the need to tell him no. So there we sat for the rest of the afternoon, watching the movie, and he would just look up at me and smile. Yep, he was a sweetheart. Unfortunately, Alex moved to Florida that summer and I didn't hear from him again.
Alex, if you're out there and you read this, thank you for being my early inspiration. You'll never realize just how much of a spark started in the first grade but I just want to let you know that you had a lot to do with it. So, THANK YOU! :)
Elementary school pressed forward with it's leaps and bounds, smothered in creativity, cursive, class pets, Girl Scouts, and Reading Buddies. I started Girl Scouts as a Brownie. There was a girl in my troop (1830 -- woot woot, make some noise!!!) who had a sister with special needs, I believe her name was Catherine. She was non-verbal, in a wheelchair, and couldn't control the majority of her bodily functions. Her eyes were the darkest brown and her hair was always tied back in a pretty grosgrain bow. My hair could never do that. Catherine communicated through a touch-activated speech box on her wheelchair tray. It was funny to be sitting in the middle of circle time during troop meetings and she would always push the "poop" button constantly. Even if she didn't have to go.
I remember during one meeting we were making first aid kits. We were all sitting around in a circle, writing down emergency numbers on index cards, putting calamine lotion into old 35mm film canisters, loading up our Tupperware boxes with gauze, eye patches (not the cool pirate ones, just the boring old band-aid ones), votive candles to light in case of a power outage (because we were totally allowed to use matches and/or lighters in the first and second grade). Catherine was in her wheelchair beside one of the tables in the room, her mother was sitting beside her. Everything was relatively quiet during this time as we worked feverishly to make our first aid kits, anxiously awaiting the chance for an emergency to pop up for us to use them.
*That first-aid kit sat under my parents' bathroom counter for another ten years. And we never used it. Chances are good those emergency numbers are still on the inside of the lid, in my first-grade chicken scratch handwriting...*
Catherine was bored and obviously wanted the attention of the rest of us. In the midst of the elementary mumble, Catherine started mashing that poop button like nobody's business. "Poop, poop, poop, poo, poo, poooooop. Potty. Poop. Potty. Potty. Poop. Poop." It was by far one of the funniest memories I have from Girl Scouts. Her mom quickly rushed her out of the room to the restroom as the rest of us laughed and continued on with our project.
Catherine, thank you for teaching me that kids with special needs are funny and have a great sense of humor. You were quite a character, kiddo.
In middle school, our next door neighbors of at least ten years or more moved away. We miss you guys! A new family moved in. The parents spoke minimal English. The dad was a cab driver and the mom was just exhausted. She had every reason to be. They had three children. Their oldest, Alex, who was a few years younger than me. His younger brother, Brian and the youngest was a pixie of a chatterbox, Miss Diana. She was probably seven or eight years younger than me at the time. She would come over to our porch and ask if she could stay for dinner. Just out of the blue. We let her stay one time but I think she just wanted to spend as much time away from her brothers as she could. Her oldest brother, Alex, was very shy. He would use his dad's old cigarette cartons to build model skyscrapers in his bedroom. He showed them to me once. His brother, Brian, is the real gem of this whole story though.
Brian was an absolute angel. He had cerebral palsy and spent long hours in a stroller-type wheelchair. However, he could run somewhat. He'd slouch and almost run on all-fours, before he stumbled and went crashing to ground. He and I would race. He'd run along his side of the fence and I'd be on the other, and we'd race each other. I felt awful the first time I saw him fall. He'd be laughing, he was oblivious to fear or pain. What broke my heart was the way his siblings treated him. Diana, despite the fact she was five, told me once, "That's Brian, he can't talk. He's stupid." and her brother, Alex would explain the story.
"He was perfectly normal when he was born and when he was three, he was riding horses and fell off. Now he's like this."
Talk about turning your world upside down. Brian was eleven when they moved in. He could not communicate with words but he would smile so big when I would come over to visit. He'd be chewing on his hand (either to soothe his anxiety or out of sheer boredom because nobody in his family made any effort to communicate or include him). The kids would all be in the backyard playing. Brian would be strapped in his chair, thrashing back and forth, dying to get out. I would come over in the afternoons and talk to Brian. I'd take his wet, wrinkled and bruised hand, put it in my own, and look into his eyes. Talking to him about what I'd done in school today and how beautiful it was outside. He'd always smile right back at me and just stare into my eyes, hanging on my every word. He would always scream when I'd have to leave to go home for dinner.
I miss Brian. His father lost his job and they were forced to move out of their home. I don't know whatever became of that family, but Brian, you helped skyrocket me into my love for kiddos with special needs.
Six years went screaming past and I was in college. I entered my freshman year as an Early Childhood Education major. I wanted to teach preschool or kindergarten, since I had worked at a Summer Camp at the YMCA the summer after I graduated high school and had volunteered with the Preschool ministry at my church all through high school. I just figured early childhood was where I needed to be.
I got involved with a group called BCM (Baptist Collegiate Ministries) during my first semester of college. We did Bible study groups, campus outreach projects, and local missions. As my first year of college was coming to a close, I found out that BCM partnered with an organization called SendMeNow which sends college students on summer missions at no charge to them (funding coming from Baptist churches and organizations such as Southern Baptist Convention). I looked into some of the options for missions. Seeing as how I didn't want to spend another summer at the YMCA, I looked at some of the paid summer missions. One that really appealed to me was one at a camp in Northeast Georgia for kids with special needs. Plus, it was a way to get some money over the summer to pay for textbooks, etc. for the fall semester. I filled out an application and went to a SendMeNow rally/conference where I got to look at other summer missions opportunities as well as interview with the directors of the camp.
I told them I was eager to work with kids with special needs and that the idea of working at a camp for six weeks in my home state would be totally wonderful. Long story short, I got a call five or six weeks later saying that I was hired. I went to a commissioning service weekend prior to school letting out. Our families came and prayed for us before we (the collective GA BCM groups) went our separate ways for summer missions.
Little did I know, that summer (of 2011), those incredible six weeks would change my life forever.
For six weeks, I worked with camp counselors (most of whom were new at this whole thing and were around my age), camp administrators, and 30 kids a week, each week, filled with music, crafts, messy meals, dances, talent shows, Bible stories, pool time, field trips, and crazy fun! Each week we got a camper, 1-to-1 ratio to love on and hang out with for a week. I had six completely different kids, each with a completely different story, but each kid impacted me in the same way. They made my heart grow bigger and bigger and made my mind change.
Camp came to an end and with many tearful goodbyes, I was headed back to my hometown and back to college. However, before my sophomore year started, I went on my campus information page to change my major. I was now on my track to becoming a special education teacher (and with that goal even closer in sight... MAY 2014!).
So for the past two years, I have been placed in schools and working with students from elementary to high school, working with the school system, seeing the highs and the lows, the victories and the losses for my students, the good days, the bad days, and the days where they are continuously loved/encouraged/motivated, etc.
I have also been a teacher for students with autism and other special needs at my church. For the past three years, those kids have brought me so much joy and pride. They have helped me become a better person with a deeper love and understanding for the incredible things these kids are capable of.
That brings me to my 3E LOVE STORY...
Last summer, I was searching for a part time job after I had recently left my job at our local frozen yogurt joint and our local pizza parlor just a few months before that. I was sick of food service and was looking for something else. Anything else. I had to take summer classes so I couldn't work at camp, which made me very sad. I was still teaching my Special Needs class on Sundays at church but I was still looking for a part-time job.
Funny how God's timing is perfect when we least expect it...
Next door to my class on Sundays there was another class for students with severe and profound mental and physical disabilities as well as medically fragile students. One of them, T-Man as I will refer to him, was in need of another caregiver to assist his mom and dad with his daily needs. Soon a door was opened. His parents knew I was a trustworthy and dependable person and that I was also in school to be a special education teacher. They decided to give me a chance.
And I am so glad to have had this opportunity for the past 9 months! T-Man is by far the sweetest most patient young man I have ever met. He has CP, depends on others for his most basic needs, he is non-verbal, but has the greatest ability to communicate through smiles, head arching, laughs, and cries.
He can eat Mickey D's double cheeseburgers like nobody's business! He loves music, but his favorite songs are as follows (and in this order...)
1. Amazing Grace
2. Chocolate Chip Cookie Rock
3. Hello, My Name Is - by Matthew West
4. Chug-a-Lug - by Roger Miller
And there are others but these ones get the biggest rise out of him. I love his sweet smiles. He is patient. He is sweet. He eats like a beast. He laughs (A LOT!!!) at fart noises, things falling down, any type of toilet humor, people saying ouch, dogs barking, loves visiting his dog and goats, spending time with family and friends, watching cartoons, and telling secrets to me!
He is my 3E LOVE STORY because he is almost 32 years. He keeps on rocking regardless of any timestamps doctors put on him in the past, outliving all the odds and health problems to still be the sweetheart I know and love today!
T-MAN, YOU'VE MADE ME A BETTER ME AND I HAVE YOU TO THANK! YOU ROCK, BUDDY! I LOVE YOU!
So in conclusion, I've had a pretty fantastic past and little did I know that each experience would help pave the road to where I am today! I am so thankful for everyone that has supported me through this entire process.
Monday morning is the first day of my last year in college. Can hardly wait to have a classroom of my own.
Thanks for reading!
Love,
Maddie C
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