The other day, I was reminded of a student who changed me. Years ago, when I was still considered a “young” teacher, a refugee student joined my classroom. He was a beautiful second grader with bright shining eyes and a smile that spread across his entire face. It wasn’t first apparent that he was a joyful student. No, initially, I thought he was a trouble maker and a behavior problem. I was wrong. Truly wrong.

Unfortunately, back then, I didn’t understand how important my teacher decisions were to the success of every student. No, I thought students came to me and I was in charge of making sure they learned the curriculum. I wanted to be influential to student learning, but I didn’t always know how (I am still learning this, fifteen years later!). I also didn’t believe I could actually teach ALL students to learn. I had what is called a “fixed mindset” (Dweck, 2006), on what I could do as a teacher. Additionally, I didn’t necessarily believe that every child could learn because of some limitation or other. This is called a deficit-mindset and appears whenever a teacher places a limitation on a student for any perceived reason (economic, ability, personality or other). It sounds like this, “If Johnny could only be fed well every morning, he could learn.” or “If Susie didn’t have a disability in Reading, she would succeed.” What it is, is an excuse for the teacher to focus less on Johnny or Susie, because they just won’t make it due to…_____(fill in the blank with the limitation of choice). I did this. And I am so sad I had this mindset.

So here’s the story.

This amazing eight year-old student, who we will call John, had lived much of his life with his Mom and siblings in an African refugee camp. Relief services from a Christian organization helped them immigrate to the US to flee their war-torn country. John joined my classroom in the Fall of his second grade year. He spoke little English but knew words for the bathroom, and outside, and food. On the first day, John did okay. He sat like his peers in a chair, he watched them closely to see what to do. He did okay. On the second day, John fell apart. And so did I.

He was provided English Learner services for almost three hours a day starting right away in the mornings. He then joined our classroom and had to transition into our Literacy block. The second day of school, our class was practicing Literacy Centers where students worked through different types of reading or writing activities. It was a typical second day of school and students were doing fine. Until John entered the room. When he came in, he slammed the door behind him. When he saw the kids all in different places compared to the day before, he became visually upset, crouched down into a ball, and started to moan very loudly. He then began to rock back and forth. I was shocked. I was worried. I was frustrated.

I went to him, rubbed his back, talked calmly to him. I tried to gently calm him. At the same time, I tried to manage a classroom of 28 other eight and nine year-old students. They were so confused and worried for John. Some came to ask what was wrong. Some asked if he was going to stop moaning. Some covered their ears. Some just stared. Recess came. Thank goodness. John agreed to go outside. He played well. But when he returned, he returned to his moaning crouch position. I continued my comforting to John and teaching everyone else from afar. What else could I do? Ten days of this teaching and I was ready to quit.

The day I found out I was pregnant (with son #2), I had to chase after John so he wouldn’t run away. He cried in my arms in the middle of the hallway. I cried too. (Every night. Every day.) That same day, I told my principal I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t teach him and my students anymore. She listened. And I know as she listened, she planned to find support. I wish I had gone sooner to her. I wish I hadn’t been so afraid to say, “Please help me.” We educators are so afraid to admit we don’t always have the answers. We are so afraid to be evaluated as an ineffective teacher. We are so afraid of our own limitations. (or maybe it’s just me?)

The following week, a para-educator followed John all day, every day, recording all his behaviors. For a good three weeks, she worked along with him during his EL service time, and sat next to him in the classroom, rubbed his back when he was in his moaning crouches, played soccer with him at recess, and built a relationship with him. He started to do better. But then she got tired and overwhelmed. Sadly, she quit. John grieved. I grieved. My class grieved. Things got worse again, even with a new para-educator.

There was a lot I did wrong for John during this time. But there is one thing I did right. I PRAYED.

And God listened. He heard me calling for help. He sent me a sign. And here is where I have learned to “Be Joyful in Hope” (Romans 12:12).

At this time, Andrew and I decided to switch churches. We decided to visit a few churches before making a decision to join any one church. The first church we went to seemed like a great fit. We loved the pastor’s message, the fellowship with members, and they even had a young families group! That day, Andrew took our son (we only had 1 at that time) to the nursery and I picked him up after. When I went to pick him up, I heard a loud, “HI TEACHER!” from inside the nursery. I looked in and saw not only my son, but my eight year-old student John, on the floor playing together. GOD!!! I weep still.

From that day on, I and John connected. We found a way to communicate in smiles, gestures and some English. We hugged and laughed. He learned and I learned more! God knew what my heart needed to learn. That I am the one who needed to let go of my expectations. I was the one who needed to be better. I was the one who needed to change. I was the one who needed to adjust, not John. I have taught with John in my mind and heart every day since. NO student is unable to learn. ALL STUDENTS ARE ABLE TO LEARN. And if any educator says differently, then I pray for God to send them a sign too.

John moved with his family to Iowa later that school year. I never learned how he did, but I pray often that he smiles daily and is full of a hopeful future. He was such a bright light that I didn’t even see until God helped open my eyes.

Here is more of Romans 12. Verses 9-12:

‘Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.’

My prayers go to the teachers still in need of a sign. My prayers go to the students who feel no one knows their hearts. My prayers to each of you, that you may feel encouraged knowing that God answers prayers.

Carrie Ruth

#shineon