Those Who Can

A small gift to all the teachers in the world.

Those who can - make failure bear fruit,
bring fruit to seed and plant seeds
for tomorrow.

Those who can - turn injury to endurance,
endurance to dreams and give dreams
substance. 

Those who can - shape hate to awareness,
awareness to grace and crown grace
with compassion.

Those who can - massage fear to faith,
bend faith to courage and sculpt
courage into wings.

Those who can - subdue chaos with meaning,
define meaning as light and translate
light to vision.

Those who can - give knowledge reason,
fashion reason into tools, use tools as keys
so that doors become opportunities.

Those who can - give charity character,
invest character with strength and
free strength to ministry.

Those who can - define love by their acts,
spin their acts to hope and with hope
give children a reason to celebrate.

Those who can - teach.

Written by Gavin Kayner and published in Teaching K-8 March 1993
as true today as then

Matters of Faith

I love Christmas.  I love everything about it.  Twinkling lights, trees covered with ornaments from my childhood, my career, and the ones I share with my husband, Christmas music on the radios and at every store, Santa Claus, fancy dresses, and candles.

Candles are one of the most symbolic symbols of the season for me.  In New England, you will find a candle in every window, lighting the way to home.  At the stores you can find candles to give as a gift to everyone from good friends to colleagues.  My home is scented by candles from the day of Thanksgiving until every last decoration is packed away.  All of this culminates with the most amazing candle moment, the Christmas Eve candlelight service.

When I was young, about 6 years old, I was going to sing in the church children’s choir on Christmas Eve for the candlelight service and my mom made me the most beautiful navy blue velvet dress.  I loved the dress and knew that I was wearing the dress that everyone else would notice.  It shimmered and made me feel grown up, or at least like I was 8.

But then, they gave me a candle to hold while I sang.  I couldn’t believe the magic and the science of that burning flame.  Each face was highlighted by a single glow and yet, in that glow there was a magic puddle of wax.  As I examined the candle and sang to my church, I also poured the melted wax down the front of my blue velvet dress, all while my mom watched.  We laugh about it today and she talks about the candle and my singing more than my ruining the dress.  She does because it was Christmas Eve, the day a small child came to bring us a gift from God. 

My faith is important and has shaped many memories such as that night.  My faith helps guide me and listen to my heart.  I passionately believe that all people should be able to choose their faith and how they celebrate.  But have we made religion accessible to individuals with disabilities?

I am watching one family try to figure out how to have their son’s Bar Mitvah when he is still struggling with communicating in English.  I watched a family struggle to find a church where their daughter would be able to wander through the sanctuary during the service.  I was blessed with the invitation to witness the baptism of one of my students, but he wasn’t able to really speak about the event in a meaningful way later as the communication had not yet been taught.

Where do we but faith in the list of things a child needs to learn?

Have you found a way to include your child with a disability in your family’s faith in a meaningful way?  I would love to know how to help families and children in their spiritual journey.  And maybe, someday, they will tell us about their favorite holiday symbol.

Children

I am a teacher but not a parent.  I have had the luxury of learning from children and parents through our conversations, shared moments and by observing and have noticed a few things.

When you have a child with a disability, you can't just go to a neighborhood bar-b-que and leave with insight as to how to be a better parent, stop tantrum, or hide vegetables in their dinner.  In fact, the very act of going to the bar-b-que is a stress.  How will my child react?  Will they have any of the 5 foods my child is currently eating?  What if they play a song on the radio that causes a tantrum?  How will I change their diaper at someone else's house?  Will there be any people at the party that haven't met my child?

I don’t have the answers.  I don’t have a quick and handy phrase you can say to those who don’t understand.  But maybe, parenting has more similarities than we originally thought.

Children can try your patience, make you laugh, keep you up at night, occupy your heart and worries, make you dream, hope, and believe.  They can capture us with a smile, a breath, a tiny moment.  They can also push us to a point of tears and frustration and we try to give them comfort and love only to have them still crying and upset.  You hear of parents who are so stressed and frustrated that they hurt their own child in ways we can not fathom or ignore them to avoid hurting them.  We also hear of parents who make sacrifices of food, water, safety, and security; sacrifices that most of us will never be faced with, for the love of their child.

A child with a disability is no different in that regard.  They will challenge their parents in ways that aren't found in popular parenting books.  These parents will laugh and cry, celebrate and worry, just as all parents around them.  

The Royal Child

One of my favorite parables was told by the minister in an episode of Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman entitled "Just One Lullaby."  In this episode there is a town debate on the use or prohibition of corporal punishment.  The minister, Timothy, shares a story that I constantly call to mind.  I will try to do it justice:

There once was a town that was very sad.  The children had a very sad school house with few books to share.  There were no parks or places to play.  The streets were dirty.  The villagers were sad and worked so hard in the fields to grow enough to eat that they were rarely at home as a family.  The way they spoke to each other was sad and cold.

One day, the king of the whole kingdom came to visit.  He told the members of the village that he had secretly replaced one of their babies with his own.  The villagers were shocked and afraid.  They each worried, what would the king do if he saw the way that his child was living.

The villagers cleaned the streets and school.  They bought books, toys, and paints. They spoke to their children with love and made time each night to eat as a family.  The children thrived and grew into happy, loving adults.  These adults worked, loved, and started their own families.  The village was no longer sad, but instead, it was a wonderful place to be.  It was a kind, loving, beautiful village.  You see, the children grew up not knowing that one was royalty.  They only knew that they were loved and safe.

Many years later, the king returned and enjoyed getting to know each of the adults that the children had become.  One elderly lady asked of the king, "Your Majesty, please, tell me if my son is your prince.  He is so wonderful I just feel he must be."

The king replied, "They are all royalty."

Strength, Courage and Wisdom = Hope

I have been absent from my blog for a while.  I would like to apologize but I can’t.  I can’t because I have been doing something for which no one should ever apologize.  I stepped back and took a look at who I what and what I believe.  You see, this was my response to the political climate of today.

I have my own beliefs and they have been formed in part by my experiences and in part by my education.  How much was education?  A third?  A half? A majority?  I don’t know.  But I do know that I am a teacher.  I spend 175 days a year with children; children that aren’t mine by blood, just by passion and commitment.  Was I making the right decisions for each and every one of them?  Was I making my beliefs the right answer or was I tolerant of free thought.  

What I decided is that I am committed to teaching, leadership, and the belief that our future is good.  Children will grow up to be the great and wonderful people that we hope they become.  I teach because I do value each and every person that I meet.  Each belief a person holds is right for them, shaped by their experiences, and their education.  If I want heard, I need to continue to listen.  I may not agree with everyone but that is not an argument, just a mark of what makes us each individuals.  I am not saying that crimes such as the shooting at the Aurora Theater, genocide in Sudan, or the death of our foreign ambassadors is acceptable.  It isn’t. But beliefs such as what the immigration policy should be, who should be manufacturing our products and at what rate, how we should spend our tax dollars, and whether or not each military maneuver was effective can not be decided by one person.  Each person’s view matters.

Yes, out future is hopeful. I count my blessings that I am able to be a part of that future, in a very small way.

As to my personal future,  it is this blog and public education leadership.  I may not have a leadership job title, but leadership is more than what is written on your door.  I think I am ready.  To that end, I seek your ideas, questions and struggles.  You will help guide me along with the sage advise I say as I go to sleep each night:

Grant me the strength to endure

That which I cannot change,

The courage to change

That which I can,

And the wisdom to know the difference.

(my personal adaption of the Serenity Prayer by Reinhold Niebuhr)

(Un)Fair Advantage

Oscar Pistorius, this is a name that will forever remain important.  Oscar, a young an from South Africa was the first amputee to run in the Olympics.  Not just the Paralympics, but the one that is called the Olympics and is actually broadcast in prime time on a station you can find (enough ranting, back to Oscar).

Oscar is often referred to as the "fastest man on no legs."  But this was the very source of controversy.  The prosthesis legs he wears at first disqualified him for the Olympics as an "Unfair Advantage."  Oscar appealed and his expert witnesses proved that his Cheetah Prosthetics were not an advantage.

Really?!?  Do we really think they are an advantage?  Are we afraid that other runners training as Olympic hopefuls are going to have their legs amputated so they can have the benefit of a prothetic?  Really?!?  I don't think so.  I doubt that his mother, when told that her 11 month old infant would have part of his legs cut off, she said, "great, now he can get faster ones."  No, they are not an advantage.  When he steps in a puddle on mud and doesn't know, that is not an advantage.  When he, as a 18 month old had to not only learn to walk but to put on his legs correctly so he wouldn't get sores or infections, it was not an advantage.

Bu the most remarkable thing about Oscar, his attitude.  He was grateful to run.  Grateful that he made it through the semi-finals.  Grateful to be an Olympian.  And his attitude endeared him to the men he ran with.  One even wanted to trade name tags with him at the conclusion of the race, a symbol of admiration and respect that goes beyond words.

Oscar Pistorius

Remember that name, remember that man, and remember,

All things are Possible!

Olympic Inclusion

Like a great portion of the population, I look forward to the Olympics.  My Friday was planned so I could be home to watch the Opening Ceremony and the pageantry, excitement, unity, and stories that come with it.  I love every minute from the choreography, the music, and the uniforms for each country.  It is a fun tradition that draws me in each year.

This year, there was a surprise.  This year, I saw an inclusive ceremony.  There were individuals with disabilities throughout the night.  They were members of the performance, volunteers, and people.  People who happened to have disabilities.  I first realized what I was seeing when the Kaos Signing Choir for Deaf and Hearing Children 

Copied from: http://www.haringeyindependent.co.uk/news/topstories/9845298.Choir_performs_national_anthem_at_Olympic_Opening_Ceremony/

It was a beautiful performance.  Then, as I watched the dancing and music throughout the ages, I noticed that there were additional individuals with disabilities participating.  They were dancing, singing, and a truly included part of the ceremony.  There was nothing giving away that they were different, separate, or disabled in the choreography or placement of them in regards to the television cameras and other participants.  No, it was simply people performing--all people who volunteered.

This is not the end of inclusion for this Olympics.  Athletes who would only have been participating in the Para Olympics are participating in both this year. Oscar Pistorius and Natalia Partyka are a testament not only to their own strength but to who we can become when we look toward each other's strengths, rather than our perceived weaknesses or short comings.

Thank you Olympics for inspiring us all in some way.  You gave me a glimpse of the future I believe in, thank you.