I Learned a Powerful Lesson from My Dad

When I was younger, my dad often performed surgery on my ankle. He would saw it, yank it off, and then hammer on a new foot. And, of course, he didn’t forget the final touch: Glue to seal it up. Ok, maybe it wasn’t real surgery, but, man, it used to help with my growing pains.
In the middle of the night, my dad would pretend to take off my foot and ankle to appease the severe pain that woke me. In “sawing” and “replacing” the foot, he was really massaging the joint, but he did it in a way that effectively distracted me. While joking around and laughing at his antics, I would forget about the pain and get a free foot rub.
Anyway, the point of this anecdote is to illustrate in a literal sense that there really is no growth without pain. After two months in my graduate degree program in special education, I can now attest to a more figurative application of this adage as well.
My mom taught the fourth grade for years. She used to tell me that this grade was the perfect school age to teach. She explained they are able to comprehend more in an abstract sense than the little guys. And, they haven’t hit the awkward, smelly, weird hair, clothes not really fitting, “should I be flirting?” stage yet. However, when I began my year-long teaching internship in August, somehow I knew I could not follow in my mom’s footsteps.
Even with a lack of experience in education, I knew the little ones were for me for several reasons. For one, I think my personality best fits with this age. My methods of positive praise score very high on the cutesy scale with hugs and tickling. Further, I would prefer to teach students either the basics…or calculus. Those steps in between, like multiplying and division, are just painful for all of us.
Finally, I work with a population of students with emotional and behavioral disabilities. Due to the nature of their disabilities, sometimes the students may get physical and put themselves or others in danger. Because I’m rather small for my age, I preferred to begin my work in this field with a population over which I was bigger.
My internship started out wonderfully in the K-3 classroom. But, during my third week of the internship, I was permanently transferred up to the 6-7th grade classroom. To be completely honest, I was not happy with the school’s decision to transfer me out of K-3.
First, thinking of the children, we had already spent two full weeks together. We had begun establishing relationships, and I thought some of the students were really beginning to trust me. This is not an easy feat, and I was not looking forward to starting the process over again with new children.
Many of the students in the school also have attachment issues. Although in life and in school, they will have to learn to accept adults moving around, I never really wanted to be that adult. In just two short weeks, I grew attached to the K-3 students myself.
Despite all of this, I knew there had to be a bright side to the transfer. I knew the situation was out of my hands. I was not being punished or removed from the classroom for negative reasons. For my own benefit, I now have first-hand experience with two age levels.
Granted, my experience with the little ones was short lived, but I will certainly never forget it. I experienced the teaching styles of two cooperating teachers, and even though it was a short time, I can say I learned a great deal from the K-3 teacher. My time in 6-7 started out rough. My authority was questioned by the students and continues to be questioned more than a month into the school year.
Although supervisors have encouraged me, I still find myself at a disadvantage because of my size. I have been told that this will subside with time, and I have not given up hope yet. Fortunately, we have a large staff team in the classroom to help me out: five staff for eight students. Yet, when a situation flies out of my hands, and I am forced to get help, my authority takes another hit. Now that I have spent two months in 6-7, I still cannot say I am 100 percent happy with my placement.
Whenever I see my former students, they run over to me and give me a hug. I have even been visited in my classroom by a little one because he missed me. Nevertheless, as I get to know my new kids, their personalities shine through, even reaching an endearing or charming state. While I gain comfort in the classroom, I have begun to discover which behavior management strategies work with each student.
This has helped me rely less on other staff members when dealing with a student in crisis.
As painful as the transfer might have been, there is no denying that I have developed emotional and mental growth and a stronger passion for working with these children. I learned a powerful lesson from my dad to remedy a painful situation with creativity and imagination. That is what I hope to bring to the table in 6-7. Wish me luck, or at least the ability to distract them long enough, as my father did, to get through the day.
Visalli, 22, is pursuing a master’s degree from The George Washington University in the special education of children with emotional and behavioral disabilities.