fairy dust

I have no grandiose plans to leave teaching with trumpets and standing ovations. (If I did, I’d be terribly disappointed.) But it’s pressing to me to not leave teaching with regrets, either.

Which makes me think of David. Tiny, totally uninvolved David, who can’t find page 13. Where do you even begin, when the class is learning division and the very concept of multiplication is beyond him? How do I meet his needs? Most of his school day is wasted, because frankly, it’s so far beyond him he can’t follow it. He needs me one-on-one, to go at his pace. We’ve made phone calls and set up SEP’s (with the help of our Spanish translator), but his mom is a consistent no-show.

It’s so easy to write them off at that point. The parent doesn’t care; the school puts teachers through endless hoops if we try to get him help with Special Education, instead of just testing him. There’s not enough funding to help half those who need it, and even with his ELL issues, they can’t provide the kind of service he needs.

How on earth does he not get left behind? I think I forgot to pick up some magic fairy dust at graduation.