With Starbucks' re-release of the pumpkin spice latte, it is increasingly clear that fall is in swing and summer has said its good-byes for this season.  I have finally settled into my new dorm room, confirmed my work hours, and finalized my course schedule; senior year has arrived and it is time to hit the books once again.

This semester I am taking three Master's level special education courses as part of the fifth year program in Severe Special Needs.  I feel especially privileged to be learning from some of the best professors I have yet to meet during my career at Boston College.  For those of you who might recognize courses titles from your own studies, I am taking the following special education classes:

Families and Human Service Agencies
Assessment of Student with Low Incidence/Multiple Disabilities
Human Development and Disability

So far, the classes have been challenging but extremely interesting.  In fact, one of the courses requires readings from a pre-medical studies text book.  (I have to say that I never expected to be reading a science book again in my pursuit of a teaching degree!)  But, I have learned so much already, from the etiology of intellectual disabilities to the in and outs of writing a IEP in accordance with the law.  This is truly shaping up to be a great semester, and I am so excited for the next couple of months.

While I have been enjoying my course load very much, being surrounded by Master's students who are currently holding full-time positions in special education schools across Massachusetts has forced reality to sink in; I am only two years away from real-life.  Four short semesters from now I will be applying for teaching positions and establishing myself with the field.  It is an amazing, through nerve-wrecking, feeling to have your dreams materializing right in front of you.

Having realized that my time as a responsibility-free college student is nearing its end, I have begun to formulate some plans for the future.  I plan to graduate in May 2013 with a Master's of Education in Severe Special Needs and special education teaching certifications in both Massachusetts and my home state, Connecticut.  Following the advice of a good friend and former teacher I worked with in past years, I have tried to get a head start on the teacher certification process.  I was so happy to discover that Connecticut offers a Praxis waiver for the reading, writing, and math tests that is dependent on one's SAT and/or GRE scores; this will save me at least a couple hundred dollars worth of testing fees.  Sadly, Massachusetts does not appear to offer an equivalent option, although if any readers know this to not be true, please let me know!  As I attempt to navigate through the chaos that is teacher certification testing, I strongly welcome any advice you may have, as I'm sure other student readers would as well.  The process is a bit daunting to us newbies who hear the rumors of the MTELS and Praxis as we walk through the hallways on our way to class, and any assistance you might offer would be greatly appreciated.


I will be sure to touch base soon with updates on classes and the like.  I hope everyone is enjoying their school year thus far and look forward to sharing my experiences with you throughout my senior year.  Go Eagles! 

    

My credit card bill came today, threatening me with all sorts of fees should I fail to pay for the four hundred dollars worth of text books that I purchased on Amazon last week.  I guess that means that I can no longer pretend that summer is here to stay or ignore the increasingly cooler temperatures that once satisfied my desire to be a Floridian resident all season.  Fall semester is soon to begin, and the Camp Sunrise sun has set.  However, having uploaded the nearly two hundred snapshots I managed to capture from camp onto my computer, I am reminded for the eighth summer in a row that my children are unforgettable and will be remembered not only by the mosaic of pictures I have prepared for my dorm room wall but also by the inspiration they have left me with.

I am known to be a sap when it comes to anything emotional.  You can expect me to turn into a living waterfall at weddings, graduations, and the like.  The Camp Sunrise End of the Year Banquet is no different.  However, for the past seven summers I have managed to hold myself together through my speech and camper awards, reserving my tears for those last few goodbyes.  This year I was not as successful as I had been in the past.  I took one look at my campers smiling faces and was instantly flooded with memories of how far they had come in such a short time.

Take, for example, Lily, a six year old girl affected by severe autism.  My first day with Lily was rough; she would not eat, she would not sit for openings, and she would not swim.  In fact, every attempt to engage her a camp activity was met with a whining "noooooo" and a surprisingly strong pull away from whatever had been presented to her.  "No" was just about the only word I was able to understand that first day, as Lily's speech was slurred and difficult to understand.  Her inability to effectively communicate with me was frustrated by the fact that, according to Lily's mother and teachers, she could understand everything and speak clearly.  If Lily's mother and teachers could understand her, why couldn't I?  I was convinced that those who knew Lily best were mistaken or idealistic at best, and in my own frustration forgot to listen.  Consequently, I failed to pick up on the simple word "pee" and ended up having to ask Lily's mother to send in extra clothes for her fully potty trained daughter.  Faced with utter embarrassment, I struggled for weeks to come up with a new solution, a way to talk to Lily and help her to enjoy camp as much as I did.

Although it took seven weeks to perfect my plan, I finally succeeded.  I gathered Boardmaker visual depictions of our camp activities, including a pool, bus, and lunch.  Then, prior to a transition which had proved to be challenging for Lily, I would present her with a pictoral representation of whatever activity was to come next.  While this facilitated Lily's understanding of her daily schedule, it served a dual purpose of familiarizing me with her speech.  When shown a picture, Lily would point to it and say the word outloud.  Thus, I began to understand the little girl who had been speaking to me all along and recognized that the problem was not hers to fix.  I was the one not comprehending and the one who needed practice, not Lily.  

My newfound ability to communicate with this beautiful little girl opened a world of opportunities to us.  I learned that it was difficult for her to sit still during lunch, but if I allowed her to push a stroller while eating she would eat a whole thermos of mac n'cheese, two cheese sticks, and a pack of mini muffins.  I also discovered her love for merry-go-rounds, or in Lily's terms "round-wee-rounds", and spent a full two hours holding her tight on the carousel at Lake Compounce, the brightest smile lighting up her face as we went.  And, Miss Lily was a huge fan of Dora the Explorer, the Chicken Dance, and bus wheels.  I fell absolutely in love with this wonderful child.  On last day of camp, she yelled back out the bus door to me "Bye Meghan!"  The busdriver pushed her onwards, unaware of her attempts to say farewell; he could not understand.  But, Lily words were loud and clear to me.  I blew her a kiss goodbye and watched her leave for the last time, pursed lips pressed against the window, her kiss back.  

At the camp banquet, instead of presenting myself as the composed group leader I had hoped to be, I sobbed to the sixty something parents about how truly inspiring their children had been, eventually burying my face into my assistant group leader's shoulder to pull myself together.  There was Lily sitting in the front row, clapping her hands as loud as she could.  Truly inspiring does not even begin to describe it.            

 

Hello all!  After a brief hiatus, I return to you with a snapshot of my summer.  Transitioning from the college lifestyle  that more often than not involves staying up until 2 am watching re-runs of The O.C. with roommates and consequently sleeping in until the not-so-early hour of noon to a summer season full of 7 am risings for  full days of work at Camp Sunrise always proves to be interesting.  As a group leader in charge of approximately twelve toddlers affected by disabilities ranging from mild ADHD to severe autism, I find myself loving my summer job but reserving time in my afternoon schedule for a daily nap.  I am sure that my campers do the same.  

Camp Sunrise, a Connecticut day camp serving students ages 3-21 who have special needs, is the dream summer job for a student studying special education.  It provides a vast amount of hands on experience but, unlike student teaching, leaves the student completely in charge.  There is no supervising teacher who gently determines the course of each day.  Although sometimes overwhelming, an experience like this allows for a unique opportunity to independently lead a group of children and learn from one's very own mistakes and triumphs. 

This summer marks my eighth at Camp Sunrise, but I did not always hold the position of Blue Group Leader.  In today's post, I will share my first year at camp, during which I served as a high school volunteer who was paired with a camper who needed more help than his peers and helped him to navigate through the day.  But, this was just the beginning of an eight year journey that truly transformed my life ambition.  You are welcome to stay tuned to future posts to learn about my more recent camp experiences and how they have influenced my study of special education.

For now, let's return to my early years at Camp Sunrise.  Down’s syndrome, autism, cerebral palsy, post traumatic stress disorder, mental retardation… the list of disabilities I was certain to encounter as a volunteer at Camp Sunrise seemed to continue infinitely through the pages of the training manual that lay before me.  As an eighth grader with virtually no experience working with children with special needs, the labels were daunting.  Instead of educating me, they shouted abnormality, difference, and fear.  But, I was soon to learn from my camp buddy named Maddie that labels, while important for medical and legal issues, have little importance on a personal level.  No matter where an individual’s mental capacity falls on a diagnostic scale, how able he is to communicate with others, or how physically limited he appears to be, a person can always be discovered.  Each child is able in some way able and has great potential to achieve, and the importance of fanning the spark of magic that lies within everyone cannot be overstated.  

The first time I met camper Maddie, I did not notice that her knobby legs were bent inward at a seemingly impossible angle.  She sat tall in her wheelchair, covered by a flowing skirt that concealed her physical disability.  I did, however, notice that she spent hours upon hours rocking back and forth in her seat, intermittingly smacking the palm of her hand on her smooth, delicate face.  Maddie’s disability represented one of the most severe diagnoses at Camp Sunrise.  However, you never would have guessed it from the smile that lit up her face or, as I was eventually to learn, from the power of her beautiful voice. 

Maddie was a twelve-year child stuck in the mind and body of a two-year old.  She relied completely on her caregiver, and her disability was so profound that her camp counselors excitedly celebrated when she was able to grasp a paintbrush for a mere five seconds.  But, Maddie was also an amazing musician.  Although she was unable to articulate the lyrics to a song, she would sing her own words perfectly in tune while rocking back and forth to the beat of the music.  Any musician can explain the joys of performing in concert and sharing his gift with others.  And Maddie, just like any other musician, loved the stage. So, together we spent our afternoons at camp circling the gymnasium; I, her eager audience, pushed her chair, and she, the talented musician, graced me with the beauty of her more-than-able voice.  

I can't help but laugh when I look back at my first summer at camp because the outcome was so unexpected.  Prior to that experience, I was convinced that I would some day attend veterinary school and open my own practice somewhere in town.  I was so dedicated to this goal that I spent hours upon hours at our local vet's office, shadowing the technicians and doctors.  I was eager to sit in on surgeries, feed the kittens, and help in any way I could during office visits. I was a vet in the making, but the magic of Camp Sunrise was truly life changing.  Having been exposed to the amazing world of special education, I could no longer visualize myself as a veterinarian and changed my life plans accordingly.  Since then, I have spent every subsequent summer at Camp Sunrise and owe the discovery of my passion for special education to the inspiring children I met that very first summer.  I am now privileged to work with the three to seven year olds as a group leader and am responsible for planning recreational activities for my children to participate in each day.  As I do so, I never forget the lessons Maddie and the others taught me and remain forever thankful to them for helping me to chose this career.  

Check back soon for more reading about this year's Camp Sunrise adventures!      

Below are just a few pictures to highlight my past summers at camp.  Enjoy!     

As children, we are constantly reminded to not judge a book by its cover because more often than not the exterior misrepresents that which lies within.  Continuing with my previous subject of severe special needs, I cannot help but wonder whether or not we, as people, remember this token phrase when it comes to interacting with those individuals affected by the most profound disabilities.  Are we quick to judge their capabilities and mark their highest levels of achievement at merely base level?  Or do we look beyond the exterior into a world of possibilities?  

The clip below introduces us to Carly, a girl with severe autism whose story epitomizes this childhood slogan that we often forget.  She is a reminder that labels, while important for medical and legal issues, have little important on a personal level.  No matter where an individual’s mental capacity falls on a diagnostic scale, how able he is to communicate with others, or how physically limited he appears to be, a person can always be discovered.  Each child is able in some way able and has great potential to achieve, and the importance of fanning the spark of magic that lies within each child cannot be overstated.  Therefore, it is important to embrace our students for whom they are and empower them in every way we can.  We must dare to have expectations and hold our children reasonably accountable in order to provide them with a world of possibilities.         

As Carly's story depicts, the work is intensive and laborious.  Success does not just miraculously present itself; it must be developed.  In the classroom, I reserve dresses for those rare days when I am confident that everything will run smoothly, and even then I tend to resort to jeans and sneakers just in case.  But, despite the demand I have learned that if you develop perseverance and bravery, your lessons will prove meaningful to your students.  This is the greatest, most inspiring reward of all.  As special educators, we cannot promise miracles.  However, we can work wonders.        


 

Back in the time before computers and television ruled the average household, reading was the primary form of leisure.  Books in hand, children and adults alike would travel to worlds unimaginable and achieve monumental feats with the power of their minds.  Reading was not a chore to be painstakingly completed for homework or an alternative activity to resort to when the power went out on a stormy night.  In fact, one of my most prominent childhood memories includes proudly placing a sticker on the colorful summer reading chart my parents hung on my bedroom door, eagerly awaiting the day when I would have read enough books to earn a trip to the local ice cream parlor.  Or how I treasured the moments spent reading "Dan, Dan the Bandage Man" with my dad, giggling at how the scrawny, young boy featured in the story shared the same name as my strong, invincible father.  Most impressively, I can still to this day sing you every word of the Reading Rainbow theme song.  Thanks to the inspiration and encouragement from my parents and teachers, reading has become an integral part of my life.

Over recent years, I have observed a transformation in society.  Nintendos (or whatever the latest gaming system may be) have replaced stories.  Film versions of classic books trump the literature unfailingly.  And, people are far more likely to be found updating their Ipods than scouring the shelves of the local libraries.  When we do choose to read, we can't help but view the text on an electronic screen; the paper pages are just too outdated.  

However, there is a lot to be learned from the "old-fashioned" book.  Why else would professors ask us to spend no less than $500 a semester at the school bookstore?  Clearly a hidden value remains.  

When I first became interested in special education, my mother began buying me books on the subject and reading became an inspiration.  The authors provided me with a lens into the world of teaching children with special needs and allowed me to explore an area to which I never would have been exposed had it not been for the gift of literature.  The stories I read framed my passion and provoked me to learn more.  Consequently, I am a firm believer that books have certainly not lost their place in today's world or for those of us studying special education.  Rather, they provide insight into those complicated situations which we may someday encounter and expose us to classrooms we might have otherwise been unfamiliar with.  They allow us to learn from other teachers' mistakes and acknowledge the beauty within so many children that we will not be privileged to meet in our lifetime.  Given this, I thought I'd leave you with a list of some of my favorite books about special education and children with disabilities and ask for your recommendations about others that have inspired you to follow this path.  After all, you can never do enough reading!

A Smile As Big As The Moon by Mike Kersjes
This is the true story of Mike Kersjes, a special education teacher who believed his children would benefit greatly from participating in a space program for gifted children sponsored by the US Space and Rocket Center.  He was met with great resistance, as many people were convinced that his class did not have the ability to compete or succeed with the seemingly more suited, "gifted" students.  Despite the challenge, Mike's group became the first ever special education class to win a spot in the program and truly demonstrates what it means to reach for the stars.  

Author Torey Hayden 
Torey Hayden wrote numerous books about her experience as a child psychologist and special education teacher.  She worked with many challenging students, including those affected by severe autism and selective mutism.  Her stories expose the real difficulties of special education and demonstrate the wonderful bond that can built between a teacher and her student when the right strategies are used.  

Uncommon Fathers edited by Donald J. Meyer
This book is a collection of inspiring essays written by fathers who were asked to reflect upon their experiences raising a child affected by a disability.  Their stories are honest and powerful, thus providing a unique perspective on raising a child with special needs that might be especially helpful to teachers trying to understand the family dynamics supporting their classrooms.  

Alandra's Lilacs by Tressa Bower
This is the story of a mother of a deaf daughter who refused to except the doctors' predictions that her daughter would not be able to be educated or participate in the hearing world.  The book details Alandra's experiences in a variety of different learning environments, including an oralist classroom and a residential school for the deaf, and highlights her triumph over the doctor's prognosis.  

Now that you know my favorites, please share yours!  What do you like to read?  Where can students like myself learn more about special education?  Feel free to leave comments! 
   

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.  

Course registration is the inevitably stressful week long period during which students scramble to enroll in classes with the most engaging professors, the most manageable workload, or the most exciting subject matter.  Despite the chaos involved in figuring out how to work the "old-school" registration system that has a display screen resembling that of the world's very first computer, I was lucky enough to claim a spot in a course entitled Working with Families and Human Service Agencies.  

This class explores the dynamics of families with a child affected by special needs and the services available to them outside of the school.  I will learn about the impact a child with disabilities might have upon the family, the stages of acceptance experienced by parents, and available community supports.  One of the major class assignments involves locating such services in our local area.  

As a student studying special education, I oftentimes focus solely on what goes on in the classroom.  Does the child's IEP call for certain services?  What kind of accommodations might be useful?  What can I, as a future teacher, do to help the child succeed despite his or her disability?  In doing so, I sometimes forget about how important everything that goes on outside of the classroom is, especially the child's family.

Take for example, the parents who might be in denial of their child's disability.  Refusing to acknowledge that their student might need some extra help and special attention, they do not seek out services or, in extreme cases, refuse to accept them.  The student therefore struggles with his work, lagging further and further behind his classmates.

On the other hand, a parent who in fully involved in the child's education and who understands and accepts the implications of raising a child with disabilities might be more likely to pursue services that will be beneficiary.  They might be especially motivated to demand certain therapies or accommodations.

Parents are extremely important to the education of children.  Knowing this, I am extremely excited to take this course next year.  Being aware of this subject matter will help me to become a better special educator by being more understanding of the family dynamics I am working with and the services I might recommend to those parents and children who are struggling outside of my classroom.       

Facebook, the ultimate procrastination tool and killer of potentially productive time for the typical college student, is, in a way, a virtual record of the development of my generation.  Clicking through a series of profile pictures will give you a fairly good idea of who a person used to be and who they are now.  Comparing past and present message threads highlights how much we have matured since the high school prom and how much more we have left to learn.  Perhaps the most obvious example is the facebook status.  Status updates allow users to post a comment, photo, or link for all of their friends to read.  In return, readers can reply with comments or "like" the status to indicate that they enjoyed it.  And, you can be certain that when everyone posts the same status, something big has happened.  After logging onto my facebook this afternoon and scrolling through all of the most recent status updates, I noticed that two phrases seemed to be repeated over, and over, and over on the profile pages of the members of the Class of 2011, this year's graduating seniors: "got a job" and "off to another interview."

As a junior, I am currently in denial that graduation is right around the corner.  College has flown by, and I can't believe I'm almost 3/4 of the way to paying the bills, relying completely on Stop and Shop rather than Lower Dining Hall, and moving my belongings from my parents' house to my own apartment.  Despite my wishing that my career at Boston College could last forever, I have managed to keep my eyes and ears open as this year's seniors transition into the real world in hopes that I might pick up a tidbit of advice here and there.  Here's what I've learned so far.  

1. Ask your professors for help when working on your resume, especially those teaching education courses.  They know what administrators are looking for and can help you to shape your resume around these values.  I recently had the opportunity to review my resume with a special education professional at a Boston College CEC event.  It was extremely helpful to hear her comments.  I had originally been concerned that my resume was longer than the standard length of one page, however she ensured me that as long as your list of experiences are relevant to the field of special education, exceeding this page limit is acceptable and will not hinder you from getting a job offer.  So, consult your education professors!  If you ask, they will help.  

2.  When interviewing, remember that the first impression is the lasting impression.  My Sign Language professor recently described an interview he conducted with a student teacher who had completed her practicum working with Deaf students and was seeking a job at his school for Deaf children.  The first thing he noticed was the fluorescent nail polish painted on her hands.  Nail polish can be extremely distracting for Deaf students who watch signing hands during conversation.  Bright colors and designs catch the children's eyes, thus preventing them from concentrating on the information being presented to them.  And, they tire the eyes quickly.  This is common knowledge amongst teachers of the Deaf.  This student teacher did not consider who she was applying for a job with.  She failed to recognize that the needs of the Deaf community, even though she was seeking a job amongst a signing population.  And, who is to say that the interviewer would must certainly be a hearing person?  What if he or she had been Deaf?  In this case, the student teacher would have needed to sign, and the nail polish would have made communication difficult.  So, when interviewing for a teaching position, come ready and prepared as you would for the school day.  Be conscious of the environment you are entering and what it asks of you. And stick to clear nail polish.

3.  My mother always taught me to come to an interview prepared with at least one, if not more, stimulating questions about the position you are pursuing.  An interview is a valuable opportunity in which you can personally obtain information about the school, its policies, and its values.  Such knowledge may give you a better idea of whether or not the school embraces your educational philosophy and if it would be a fulfilling place for you to work.  In addition, asking questions demonstrates that you have done your research about the school and that you are genuinely interested in the position for which you are applying.  

On that note, best of luck to all the future special educators interviewing in these coming weeks! And congratulations to those who have recently been employed!        

Hello from Connecticut, where spring break thus far has been more like another winter break in regards to the weather.  But it's been wonderful seeing my family and friends from home, and I couldn't ask for a more relaxing break following the chaos of midterms.  

This week, I wanted to recognize the many college students who are currently dedicating their spring breaks to a service trip either at home or abroad.  Boston College's mission for forming "men and women for others" inspires students to contribute positively to the world outside the BC Bubble and foster greater justice in impoverished areas by participating in one of the twenty plus service opportunities our school offers.  Programs promote a respect and understanding for cultures that are different from our own, an opportunity to make a difference in the lives of others, and the chance to be challenged personally by the stories, experiences, and relationships that were previously unfamiliar to us.  Many other schools have similar alternate spring break trips.

Last spring break, I had the life-changing opportunity to participate in Boston College's trip to Mustard Seed Communities in Kingston, Jamaica.  Unfortunately, Jamaican children with disabilities are plagued by a stigma that often results in their being abandoned by their families and isolated by society.  Mustard Seed Communities often becomes a nurturing and caring home for these most vulnerable people, providing them with food, shelter, and love.  

Upon arriving I met Justin, a ten-year-old boy affected by severe hydrocephalus who instantly won my heart.  His feet were swollen, his bones poked through his skin, and his head had become so heavy that he was incapable of lifting it off of the worn pillow in his crib.  Eager to ease his pain, I spent hours simply sitting bedside, holding his small, calloused hand.  I would whisper lullabies into his ear, tracing his fingers with mine as he fell asleep.  Although Justin couldn’t vocalize his appreciation, I knew he loved our time together.  Whenever my voice grew hoarse, I would slowly loosen my grasp on his hand and try to slip away. But my attempt was never successful because Justin would instantly grip my hand tight, begging me not to go.  Of course I could not resist. 

I recently received saddening news that Justin had passed away, and I cannot help but wonder how his situation would have differed had he been blessed with the resources accessible to us in America.  This beautiful boy was the first and likely the last child I will meet who is affected by hydrocephalus because the condition is easily treated by surgical implantation of a shunt in the States.  However, this costly procedure is financially inaccessible to most Jamaicans, especially a severely disabled, non-verbal, and wheelchair-using orphan.  Without adequate care, Justin’s condition progressively worsened.  He had great difficulty eating, often painfully choking on his oatmeal as I tried so hard to support his head while he swallowed.  I am confident that tube feedings, which are commonly used by children with severe disabilities in the US, would have greatly bettered his quality of life.  I struggled to mimic the massages used so often by physical therapists on Justin’s sore, weak limbs, knowing that he would never have the opportunity to be treated by a professional. 

I learned so much from my experience at Jamaica Mustard Seed and from my work with Justin.  First, proper care, high quality instruction, and the latest technology are necessary in order to better the quality of life of children with disabilities and to allow for progress. As special educators, we must serve as advocates for our students and ensure that they have everything that they need and deserve.  Second, despite all our efforts, many children will be denied access to these resources.  We should continue to strive for a world in which all children with disabilities receive the care and education available in the United States so that someday youngsters like Justin will have amazing opportunities and the chance to live full, healthy, and happy lives.  

Best of luck to all of those serving others this spring break and a special thanks to those students working at Jamaica Mustard Seed this week.  And, to those readers stuck in the cold, snowy States like me, stay warm and keep your head up; the groundhog says spring is just around the corner!         

PS- Some pictures from my Jamaica Mustard Seed trip are shown below.  Enjoy!