Welcome to summer readers!  After a brief hiatus filled with final exams, the consolidation of my entire dorm room into a limited number of boxes, and my return to my home state of Connecticut, I return to you for the summer season and am certain it will be a good one.  I hope that this post finds you all well and enjoying the glimpses of sun that are beginning to emerge from behind the thunder and lightning.  

I am excited to announce that I have been accepted into Boston College's Fifth Year Program in Severe Special Needs and am incredibly thankful for the opportunity to continue studying at this wonderful university following graduation in spring 2012.  I am fortunate to have the privilege of taking graduate level special education courses along with my senior year coursework and welcome all of the advice that those of you who have previously completed a similar program have to offer.  I mention this as an introduction to the topic of today's blog: why we special educators do what we do.  While this question is pertinent to any special educator or, as a matter of fact, to any individual seeking the meaning behind his or her career (whatever that may be), I have found it to be a subject of particular relevance to teachers who dedicate themselves to working with students affected by severe, multiple, or profound disabilities.  To put it simply, I must steal the words of a peer who once complimented me for working in a field where "you never know if you are making a difference."

While I could respond to this question with a multitude of complex answers, I have come to understand that the most important reason teachers chose to work in severe special education is absolutely simple in its purest sense.  Sure, the work tends to be hands on, individualized, and intriguing.  But, the true thrill of it all extends far beyond this.  Severe special education teaches those who are touched by its power the meaning of true love.  Romantics and poets alike have attempted to capture this concept in their words for decades upon decades, yet I have been lucky enough to stumble upon the very essence of love in my work with students affected by severe disabilities.  I see it in the eyes of the parents, siblings, teachers, and nurses who spend their days giving everything to their children and expecting nothing in return.   That is what love is all about, isn't it?  Many of the students with whom I have worked are non-verbal and thus face challenges when trying to communicate their needs and desires to those around them.  But, in their silence, they have inspired me to lengths unimaginable.  Sometimes the work is frustrating.  One may spend days or weeks searching for that one activity or lesson that evokes some sign of pleasure or enjoyment from the student who may struggle to reciprocate socially.  However, when a glimpse of a smile is caught, you repeat what you were doing because you have found something that makes your student happy, a way to communicate with him or her and share the experience of the classroom with each other.  This joy found in loving is a reward within itself and lies at the heart of severe special education.    

Now, this post comes with a caveat of sorts.  It is likely that we teachers cannot know everything there is to know about our students' neurological impairments; nor can the doctors!  That's why there are so many specialists and so much experimentation with therapies and medications.  When this reality strikes, the work may become daunting.  Do not become discouraged!  We are not super heros.  We cannot take away the struggle that our students and their families face from day to day.  But, what we CAN do is participate in their lives.  We can write the lesson plans that address our children's needs and preferences.  We can learn the complicated jargon in order to secure the services our students deserve and need.  We can be their teachers, their mentors, and their friends.  When we see the child whose speech is severely distorted because of his cerebral palsy, we can recognize the courage and strength behind his voice.  When we see the child whose fragmented sign language is indicative of his profound deafness, we can observe the beauty of a bridge built over a communication gap.  Instead of seeing disabilities as permanent labels deeming a child incapable of learning or succeeding, we can acknowledge the truth that we are all disabled in some way.  There are things that you and I will never be proficient in, no matter how hard or long we work at it.  Do we focus upon our inabilities?  Or course not!  We focus on that which we are capable of and our students deserve the same treatment that we deem ourselves worthy of.  They will succeed and progress through life just the same as we do, teaching us to love as they go.  And we can love them back.

With this knowledge, I consider myself extremely lucky to be studying Severe Special Needs in the coming years and thank all of the children who I will meet in the coming years for the gift of love they will give me.