Stress and pressure are “part and parcel” of the educational arena; however the professional and personal responsibilities can sometimes seem insurmountable. As a new teacher, I existed in a myopic world that centered on such issues as completing the assigned reading before my students, taking roll correctly, motivating my students, and the intricacies of classroom management. Basically I was trying to survive, and some things haven’t really changed that much. I have learned to deal with the stress through professional organizations that expand my development to meet the needs of all the students who enter my world. The additional pressures that appear when special or exceptional students are mainstreamed into the equation can be daunting; however, I believe that students with special needs inspire me to become a better teacher and person. When I think about special education students who have inspired me and touched my life, Joe, Ricky and Camille immediately come to mind.

Starting at the age of fourteen, I volunteered for three summers at an “exceptional” children’s home. As a teacher’s assistant the first summer, I vowed to get through to a nineteen-year-old named Joe. I was told that Joe was totally unresponsive to any previous attempts made to encourage communication, and my interaction continued that tradition. The teacher told me that my attempts were useless, but I was determined and persistent. Every day, every hour, I would point at Joe and say, “Joe, J O E,” and then point at myself and say, “Maureen.” Next, I would print his name in large letters and repeat the mantra. Every day, every hour, Joe stared blankly immersed in his own world and did not or could not respond. His brain injury was a result of a Midwest carnival tragedy where a stray bullet from the gun arcade pierced his brain and left him in a vegetative state. On my last day that summer, at the end of our party, Joe shuffled over to me and shocked all of us by pointing to his own chest saying, “Joe, J O E.” Next, he pointed at me and said, “More-eeen.” He repeated it over and over again. Finally, the light bulb moment that every teacher hopes for—pure euphoria and I was hooked. This is the power of working with a special education student.

When I first met Ricky, he was a typical eighth grade boy—full of vim and vigor, hormones, and a know-it-all attitude. Ricky was very athletic and a daredevil to boot. He challenged me and I challenged him. I fondly waved goodbye as he graduated from junior high and moved on to high school. I graduated and moved on to high school two years later. There I had the great pleasure of conducting a reading class for at-risk students one period a day. It was a dream assignment located in a computer lab with special reading and writing programs installed on all fourteen computers. The reduced class size allowed me to give each student one-on-one help every day, and it was very gratifying to see the remarkable improvement in students’ reading and writing. One day, a counselor approached me to discuss a special student who had handicaps due to a motorcycle accident the previous year. She shared that he had been in a coma for over three months, and as a result had lost many of his cognitive abilities, his speech, and the use of his left arm. Understandably, he was also very angry which made it difficult for anyone to work with him. This attitude had obviously limited his improvement, and she told me that his parents had asked that he be enrolled in my class. Opening the cum folder, I saw Ricky staring back at me. The boy I had known in eighth grade had changed radically, but because of our previous relationship he trusted me enough to begin to try. He learned to type with one hand that year, and he learned it was okay to make mistakes. He learned to fit in with the other students who also struggled, and he made positive progress in his speech and cognitive thinking. It was an honor to work with Ricky that year, and I know that I learned more from him then he learned from me.

Sometimes our success with mainstreamed special needs students is subject to the support we receive. When I was told that my Multicultural Literature classes had been chosen for the mainstreaming of the blind students on campus, I panicked. I was definitely not prepared to help these special students meet the demands of a regular classroom. However, I can’t stress how helpful and supportive the sight teacher on campus was to both the teachers and the students she worked with. She had the unique ability and sensitivity to make mainstreaming work for all of us. I became a better teacher because of her efforts and expertise.

Camille, who was legally blind and very shy, was the first student placed in my class. My teacher support system was proactive and immediately enlarged the core text so that Camille could read and receive help with her reading and writing assignments. It was a pleasure to communicate with her regularly to check on Camille’s academic progress and social interaction. At first, we worried how the other students would react to Camille, and how Camille would react and interact with them. Instead of being ostracized, Camille was, at first, embarrassed by the amount of attention she received. I was delighted to see my jaded seniors actually arguing over which group Camille would join. They exemplified the respect and tolerance that can enrich our classroom environment. Camille’s self esteem blossomed as students demonstrated their respect as they watched her quietly struggle and succeed. They began to escort her to her classes, and even invite her to eat lunch with them. Their actions and reactions helped Camille assimilate academically as well as socially, and I was so proud of all of them. Consequently, we all became better people because of Camille’s powerful presence in our classroom.

Not all of my experiences with my support system have been positive, and I have certainly heard some nightmare stories as I travel across the state. However, the three aforementioned students made me a believer in the value of mainstreaming. All of our students are special, and all of them should have equal access to a quality education. We must continue to be the authentic voice for all of them, and despite the constraints, massive paperwork, and other problems associated with “special” students, I believe that the rewards one receives from students like Joe, Ricky, and Camille far out weigh the difficulties.

Let’s further the conversation at CATE 2006 (see “Meet and Greet the President” on February 3rd in your conference program). The art of teaching language arts will be celebrated as an adventure in the pre-conference hosted by CWP, “Writing: A Ticket to Success in College, the Workplace, and Life” on Thursday, February 2, and in CATE’s 47th annual conference, “Adventures in Anaheim: An ‘E’ Ticket Experience” on February 3-5, 2006 at the Hyatt Regency, Orange County (check CATEweb.org for more information).