That we even conceived of the idea of “failure” in our approach to teaching kids is an absurdity.

Along time ago in a classroom not really so far away (120 miles), a young man became a teacher. At that time, he would not have guessed that he would be forging lifelong connections with kids. Heck at that time he didn’t even know that relationships were part of the deal. He thought he was there to teach English to 7th graders. He thought a lot of things, I suppose. And I suppose, a lot of those things have changed over the years. But, the lessons he learned about connecting with kids from that first formative have stayed center. He was reminded of that this morning from one of the very kids who in her own unique and sometimes challenging ways taught him some valuable truths in the classroom. I wanted to share our interaction from Facebook this morning (with permission).

Crowd, I am sorry, old friend, that you and your son are experiencing this. And though I don’t have “the” answer to set it right, I will offer this. School is largely an artificial construct, that cannot, does not, and—sadly, seemingly—will not meet the needs of all kids. It seems instead to expect all kids to meet its needs. As such, when kids don’t fit the mold—for various reasons—the system labels them failures, and this creates situations such as the one you find yourself in. And to speak plainly, it’s bullshit. It’s bullshit any time, but it’s especially bullshit when it fails to meet the needs of our IEP kids. All kids learn and grow in different ways and at different times. But the system largely ignores this as we try to run them along the assembly line built for convenience, not effect. In short, the system is failing your kid. Your kid is not failing the system. That we even conceived of the idea of “failure” in our approach to teaching kids is an absurdity. The only thing we should be focused on is growth, which then becomes the goal which gives rise to our role to serve and support. It should be that simple. “It shouldn’t be this hard.” Ever. That is not to say that learning is without challenge. Growth requires challenge, but it also necessitates support. And though I imagine those who have served your son have tried in earnest to support him, there are systemic shortcomings that can make it difficult, so I am not necessarily pointing a finger at any of his teachers; I am, however, poking an emphatic finger in the chest of an institution that creates these all too frequent, all too real, all too tragic situations for kids and families. And for that, I am truly sorry, Crowder. But, sadly, my sorry won’t fix anything. So what, then, Syrie? This. Center your son in the idea of learning as growth, help him see in himself what the system has seemingly failed to find: a young person with the means to learn and grow every day in the authenticity of his own way. Let that be what he sees in himself. And when that self is threatened from a system who would have him believe otherwise, then advocate for the service and support that he truly deserves and let the system flail in its own failure.  But I caution against using the system as a scapegoat, (which I feel like you are not trying to do). Help him believe in himself. Help him find the words, “I am learning . I am growing.” Those should be the words in the heads and hearts of all our kids. That they would ever think or speak otherwise is a travesty. It’s, in a word, bullshit. Sorry, my friend. Not sure if this helps, but I felt compelled to share my two cents this morning. Your son will be okay. Of course he will. He has you for a mama. Take care, kid.

In a few hours, in a classroom 3.8 miles away, a far-less young man will continue a teacher. He will not guess what connections will continue or in what ways they will come to enter his life later on. But he will know to focus on connecting with kids when he enters the classroom. He has to. He has learned that. He had to. He had some great teachers along the way. Thank you, Kristina, for being such a great teacher. Sorry for your struggle. Wish I could mend what’s broken.

Happy Thursday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.