Fire!

Once upon a time, I was a bright eyed, 22 year old, brand new teacher. I started my career as a bilingual special education teacher in the Bronx. It was a Junior high school and my class consisted of 8 kids, 7-9th grade. I was their main teacher and taught them everything except for ESL. Everyone thought I was crazy: the kids had learning disabilities, and emotional disabilities. One was mildly retarded.That was the correct term  at the time.

I had just been hired in a talent search they did in Puerto Rico. I had not even graduated yet. But, I was enchanted with the possibility of making a difference. And, I came to New York.

I only had a minor in education. My degree was in English Literature. I walked in the first day, was introduced to the staff, and then sent along to prepare my classroom. I was assigned a coach  who was extremely helpful and who presented me with every possible resource I could wish for. I was the only bilingual sped teacher so I was sent on trainings and professional developments all the time.

The classroom was fully loaded with science and math kits, brand new encyclopedias, I even was given an Apple computer complete with printer. It was wonderful and yet a bit overwhelming.

My first observation by the sped assistant principal was a failure. I had so much in the classroom that I used it all at once. I had never planned a lesson so I thought the more the better.

At the post observation meeting, the AP went over everything and helped me put together a lesson plan. She wasn't critical, she was helpful. She didn't tear me down, she built me up. To prove her point she told me she wanted me to teach a Spanish class to emotionally disturbed students. I didn't think it would be a good idea considering what she had just witnessed in my classroom.

She smiled and sweetly said, "You have the one thing that I cannot teach you. You are a teacher. It comes to you naturally."

This was 1987. By 1989, the Bilingual program at the district was phased out and I wondered what I would do. There was no need for me at this school. The principal called me into his office and I knew he would be giving me the sad news. Instead, he offered me a job for the following school year. He wanted me in the mainstream classes teaching Spanish. I was surprised and thanked him. He smiled, "I have no intentions of letting you go. You are one of my best teachers. I like your fire!"

I miss those days. You could be yourself and be creative. You could set ground rules and routines without being scrutinized. Where there were deficiencies, we would be trained. The kids learned and going to work was not work.

I can't get out of bed anymore.