A Special Job

My first trip down to visit the classroom where my mother worked as a paraprofessional in a "readiness" room was my inspiration.  I vividly remember a teeny little guy with super duper crazy curly hair that was practicing tying his shoes.  My task as a peer helper was to encourage and support him during his practice of this delicate art.  I did so for a few days and then one day - it happened.  A little nub of a loop connected to another barely holding on by the aglet.  He. was. so. excited.  The glee that poured over that little guy began like a rainstorm.  A few trickles of grinning, a compliment from me, a whisper to see if he could show Mrs. Keiper,  gave way to steady streams of congratulations, high fives and maybe even a few sideways shoulder squishes.

These days working with my 8th graders, it doesn't happen as often, nor as exuberant.  Ha.  That - would NOT be cool.  But seeing their faces light up when they've tried ten times harder than the others and only done half as well and STILL proud - that, my friends, makes being a special education teacher worth it.