When I was a Middle School Principal, I met many substitute teachers. Whenever we were able to find one that could juggle a variety of placements, we held onto them -- tightly. Mr. James Smith was one of those substitutes. Not only was he one of the calmest spirits in a room, he knew anything and everything you would ever want to know about any animal on the planet. Everything.
At least once a year, he came into our school to teach during our Adirondack Day with many a reptile in tow. Of course, being the scaredy cat of snakes Principal I was, I stumbled through fearful words whenever I saw that pillowcase of his. I knew what was in there. And, he'd deal with my corny jokes about being afraid each and every time.
When I left the Principalship, I lost track of Mr. Smith. I recently discovered he was working for BOCES in the Special Education Department as a Teaching Assistant. That news made me smile upon first hearing it. Recently, we re-connected through social media and I've been paying attention to most of his posts except when a snake is somehow involved.
Today, Mr. Smith shared a story from his workday that really speaks to the wonderful person he is. I have his permission to share it with you here:
When a verbally-challenged child sees your tiger salamander wriggling and lashing its tail and very distinctly and with effort says: "S..n...AKE!"
Who cares that it wasn't a snake? (He did use it correctly when I brought out the real snake a little later, and anyway, considering the short little legs were concealed by my fingers, it was understandable.) I could have hugged him if I wasn't trying to juggle the salamander and talk to the kids at the same time.
The work that goes into speech of either the spoken or electronic variety for this young man made that every bit as impressive to me as a lecture on salamanders by a professional herpetologist with a degree from a prestigious university and dozens of published papers.
I understood just a little how a parent feels when a little kid talks for the first time. That grumbly little voice and halting speech? If Jesus Christ had invited me to listen to a command performance by the angels, I'd have shaken His hand and thanked Him, but said that I'd as soon wait till my appointed hour, because I had already heard something to beat that.
I'm so proud of him. He's come such a long way since he came to me at eleven years old when I had to constantly rock and sing and walk him up and down. He still has rough days--actually, he still has apocalyptic days--but you know what? Special ed isn't linear in progression. And I wouldn't take back a single day with him.
When a verbally-challenged child sees your tiger salamander wriggling and lashing its tail and very distinctly and with effort says: "S..n...AKE!"
Who cares that it wasn't a snake? (He did use it correctly when I brought out the real snake a little later, and anyway, considering the short little legs were concealed by my fingers, it was understandable.) I could have hugged him if I wasn't trying to juggle the salamander and talk to the kids at the same time.
The work that goes into speech of either the spoken or electronic variety for this young man made that every bit as impressive to me as a lecture on salamanders by a professional herpetologist with a degree from a prestigious university and dozens of published papers.
I understood just a little how a parent feels when a little kid talks for the first time. That grumbly little voice and halting speech? If Jesus Christ had invited me to listen to a command performance by the angels, I'd have shaken His hand and thanked Him, but said that I'd as soon wait till my appointed hour, because I had already heard something to beat that.
I'm so proud of him. He's come such a long way since he came to me at eleven years old when I had to constantly rock and sing and walk him up and down. He still has rough days--actually, he still has apocalyptic days--but you know what? Special ed isn't linear in progression. And I wouldn't take back a single day with him.
Reflections like his are powerful reminders of why the work we all strive to do really matters and that there is beauty and perfection all around us. We just have to stop and take it in.
Well done, Mr. Smith. Well done.
Teach: Inspiration Clip
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