Professor Harold Bloom once said, “The purpose of teaching is to bring the student to his or her sense of his or her own presence.” This powerful statement transcends academic instruction and touches the very core of what it means to be a teacher, especially in the field of special education. To help a child discover their sense of presence is to awaken in them the realization that their thoughts, feelings, abilities, and dreams matter. It is to guide them toward understanding their value, agency, and voice in a world that often underestimates or overlooks them. As a special education teacher, my passion stems from the belief that every child, regardless of ability, deserves the opportunity to be seen, heard, and understood. Special education is not merely about teaching students with disabilities how to read, write, or do math. It is about helping them discover their identity, embrace their uniqueness, and participate meaningfully in their communities. My mission is rooted in the idea that students with special needs must first feel recognized and validated before any academic success can be achieved. To understand how I would guide my students toward a sense of their own presence, we must first understand what Professor Bloom meant. A “sense of presence” is the recognition and internalization of one’s self-worth and individuality. It is the experience of being consciously aware of oneself as an active participant in life and not just as a receiver of information or care, but as a unique being with potential and purpose. For students with special needs, developing this sense of presence can be both deeply transformative and uniquely challenging. These students often face barriers to self-expression, whether due to communication difficulties, physical limitations, cognitive differences, or social stigmas. My role is to help them break through those barriers so they can see themselves not as people to be pitied or fixed, but as full human beings with their own light to shine. My mission begins with creating a classroom that feels safe, welcoming, and empowering. Safety, in this context, goes beyond physical security. It means emotional safety—knowing that mistakes are not met with judgment but with curiosity and encouragement. It means fostering relationships rooted in trust and mutual respect. Every child has strengths, even if they are not immediately visible in traditional academic settings. My approach is to identify those strengths and build upon them. Whether a student has an extraordinary memory, a love of music, or a calming presence among peers, these traits become the foundation upon which learning is constructed. Goals should be meaningful and relevant to the student’s life. In developing Individualized Education Programs (IEPs), I will ensure that students and their families are actively involved in setting objectives that align with their personal interests and future aspirations. Many students with special needs experience challenges with verbal communication. I will incorporate a variety of alternative communication methods such as picture exchange systems, assistive technology, and sign language to ensure each student can express themselves. When students can communicate their needs and opinions, they begin to experience the power of their presence. Inclusion is about more than placement. It is about belonging. I will advocate for inclusive settings that celebrate neurodiversity and foster peer interactions that are genuine and respectful. Through shared learning experiences, my students will recognize their place in the broader world. Teaching students mindfulness techniques, breathing exercises, and reflective journaling (where possible) can help them connect with their inner world. Even those with limited verbal skills can engage in reflective practices through art, music, or movement. Growth looks different for every student. My classroom will emphasize effort, resilience, and personal improvement over standardized benchmarks. Every small victory will be celebrated because each one brings the student closer to understanding their own potential. Once upon a time, in a land far beyond the ordinary, there was a village called Bloomville. Though the land was rich and the people kind, a great fog had settled over the village, making it hard for anyone to see themselves clearly. The children of Bloomville, in particular, wandered through the haze unsure of who they were or what they could become. In a quiet cottage on the edge of the village lived a young woman named Maeryn (that’s me). Maeryn had a heart that burned with the desire to help others, especially the children who struggled to find their place. She knew that inside every child was a spark, but the fog kept it hidden. Maeryn studied the old texts, spoke to wise elders, and listened closely to the songs of the forest. She learned that the key to clearing the fog was not a grand spell or magical relic—it was the art of seeing. Not just looking, but truly seeing each child for who they were, without judgment or comparison. With this knowledge, Maeryn became a teacher. She invited the children of Bloomville into her cottage, which she transformed into a sanctuary of light. Each child was given a lantern, and Maeryn helped them find the match that would ignite it. For one child, it was music. For another, it was storytelling. For some, it was simply the space to be quiet and feel safe. As each lantern lit up, the fog began to lift. The children started to walk with purpose. They laughed, explored, and even helped one another shine brighter. Maeryn did not give them the light, she simply reminded them that it was already there. One day, the elders of Bloomville asked Maeryn, “What is the secret to your magic?” She replied, “I just listen. I see them. I believe in their light until they can see it themselves.” And so, Bloomville became a place of brilliance, not because of one heroine, but because every child learned to walk in their own light. The fog never returned, for the village was now filled with the glow of presence, each child, a star. Teaching is not just about imparting knowledge, it is about awakening a sense of self. For special education students, this awakening is even more sacred, for it often defies the limiting narratives society places upon them. By guiding my students to a sense of their own presence, I commit to seeing them fully, teaching them with intention, and loving them unconditionally. Professor Harold Bloom’s words serve as both a challenge and a promise. As a special education teacher, I accept that challenge wholeheartedly and make the promise to every student I teach: I will help you see your light, until the day you carry it with pride.