Proud to Be "Goof"

Twelve years ago I had the privilege of teaching a young man with Down Syndrome who taught me so many things about teaching.  This young man was only in kindergarten when I met him and he instantly stole my heart.  He was funny, active, athletic, and STUBBORN!!!  This young man could out-wait everyone in his life when given directions he wasn't fond of following.  We instantly connected as, I hate to admit it, am also incredibly stubborn.  We were kindred spirits and able to quickly move from behavior management to learning and having fun together.

As he became more comfortable, he started to say more than "ugh" and "no."  Everything he said was a repeat of what you said to him.  Even if I said things like, "I am a pretty girl," he would repeat with "I am a pretty girl."  He didn't even seem to realize what he was saying.  I just wanted him to keep talking.

Then, one day, it happened.  This young man was walking across the amphitheater making funny shadows as he walked and I said to him, "You are a goof."  He turned around, looked me straight in the eye (which was a victory in itself) and said, "No, you are the goof."

It was a real-time, honest, original sentence.  I was so excited that I wanted to hear it again and replied with the not-quite-mature-but-engaging "No, you sir, are the goof."  At which point he walked to me, said, "you are goof," and ran ahead with a giggle.

From that day on, this young man did two things:

Spoke conversationally with his own ideas, requests, and initiation 

and

Called me "Goof" as though that is my name.  

Needless to say, my principal at the time heard the story as I was sharing his celebration and she also adopted the name for me.  The young man's mom could only call me "Goof" or he would correct her.  Within a month, that was my name.  One I wore proudly as it was the result of one amazing moment as a teacher.  A few years later, I moved to a new state and received this beautiful gift that I still treasure.

When No Isn't No

"No."  Two letters make a big word.  It is a word that indicates refusal, disinterest, or a different opinion. 

No.

Small children learn the word quickly and use it at every opportunity to assert their independence.  It is a word parents use to protect a crawling child from danger.

No!

It can clarify a statement to determine if it was dissent or confirmation

No?

In my class, I have a student who says "no" every time an adult speaks to him.  For him, "no" means..."Give me a minute to think." or  "I don't know what you are saying, could you say it another way?" or "Help me know if saying yes is safe."  Dor this young man, no isn't a refusal but rather a word he uses to protect himself from the unknown.  His limited receptive language has caused him to agree to things he was not very happy about so he is cautious and anxious about agreeing until he understands.  His limited expressive language and articulation struggles leave him with the simple but eloquent, no.  Given time to process, he is usually happy to comply and grins with the success of both protecting himself from the unknown and pleasing the adult.

Confidence is a great thing!

(Shared with permission from the child's parents)

This young man reminds me every time he declares "no" that processing and think time is not only critical, it is the only way to give the student the feeling of safety and security that we all want for each of our students and children.

Describe It for Me

A few years ago I was fortunate enough to teach two young boys with blindness as well as other disabilities.  They taught me a new way of looking at the world and teaching.  The complications in teaching students with visual impairments or blindness go well beyond the inclusion of Braille.   How do you explain things like space exploration and planets, Native Americans, whales, the circulatory system, evaporation, volcanoes, exploration and discovery, the life cycle of a seed, state history, or solar power?  Suddenly, everything I know about teaching simply wasn’t enough.  I worked with the vision teachers from the district as we talked about each moment of the boys’ day and how to incorporate what I knew about teaching students with cognitive delays with what they knew about teaching students with blindness.  Together we created opportunities for all of the students. 

Though the process, we were seeking ways to make reading fiction meaningful and exciting given the books that their classes were reading in reading groups.  Then, a great gift arrived: an invitation from one of our local theaters to an “Audio Described” play.  I wasn’t really sure what it was or if it would be worth in but figured, why not.  So, permission slips in hand, transportation arranged, we set off.

At the show, we were given a small headset, similar to a Bluetooth headset for each student.  I asked that they let all of the students use one, even those without a vision disability as cool electronics are always desired.  Once situated, the lights went down and I heard a calm voice begin to whisper in the ears of my students.  It told them what was going to happen, what was on the set and what it was really supposed to be, and kept even my most “busy” students engaged.  Throughout the show the action and events were explained as well as the scene changes, costumes, and movement of the actors.  As I watched the show, I watched a group of students understand with the same level of depth as the other members of the audience.  No longer were they focused on understanding the language, facial expressions, costumes, or odd partial pieces of walls or furniture.  They got it! 

Tomorrow, I am again, permission slips in hand, heading to the theater for an “Audio Describe” performance.  There are two a year and the theater helps us work out a date that works with our school calendar.  Tomorrow, we will enjoy “Flat Stanley,” I will enjoy watching the kids receive the gift of language, theater, and magic.