Lighting the Way: Teaching with Heart, Creativity, and Family at the Center Working with a child like Rebecca Lynn Seto—who had a rare disorder, was nonverbal, and brought light to every room—requires more than a strong academic background. It requires love, creativity, flexibility, and a commitment to understanding the whole child. As a graduate student in special education and a former caregiver and Direct Support Professional, I’ve had the privilege of working with students whose diagnoses don’t come with a manual. These experiences have taught me that successful teaching doesn’t begin with labels; it begins with connection. When working with a child with a rare disorder, my first approach is observation and listening—listening with my eyes, heart, and patience. I would spend time learning the student’s interests, communication patterns, and sensory preferences. Nonverbal students often communicate through body language, gestures, facial expressions, or behavior. I would use tools such as picture exchange communication systems (PECS), voice output devices, or customized visual supports to create a bridge between the student and the world. Most importantly, I would work to ensure that the student is seen and heard on their own terms. To reach and teach a student like Rebecca, I would design a flexible and engaging learning environment centered around their strengths. If they loved music, we’d use rhythm and song to reinforce learning. If they were drawn to physical movement, I’d incorporate gross motor activities into academics. I believe in multi-sensory teaching—where movement, touch, visuals, and sound work together to create meaningful experiences. I would collaborate closely with specialists such as speech-language pathologists, occupational therapists, and physical therapists to build a team-based approach to support the whole child. Above all, I believe that family is at the heart of a disabled child’s growth and progress. Families know their children best—they hold the history, the tiny details, the unique cues, and the deep-rooted love that no professional can replicate. I have worked closely with families who have had to advocate fiercely, celebrate small milestones with huge joy, and adapt their lives around caregiving. As a teacher, I see families as partners, not passengers. I would create regular and open channels of communication, ask for their insight, and include them in goal setting. When a family feels heard and respected, their trust empowers the entire educational team. Rebecca’s story reminds me of why I chose this path: to be the kind of educator who takes the time to know each child deeply, to innovate when the path isn’t clear, and to recognize joy and progress in all its forms. My goal is to help every student—no matter how rare their needs—feel excited to come to school, just like Rebecca did. And with every lesson, every laugh, and every connection, I will carry forward the legacy of students like her.

Guiding the Heart and Mind From the moment I stepped into a special education classroom as a volunteer, I understood that this wasn’t just a career path—it was a calling. That calling has only deepened through my years as a caregiver, a Direct Support Professional, and a graduate student pursuing a Master of Arts in Special Education with a Mild to Moderate Support Needs teaching credential. I have supported individuals with autism, Down syndrome, and complex communication needs, and I’ve had the privilege of walking beside families who entrust me with their child’s care and development. These lived experiences have shaped my identity as an educator and fueled my passion for building inclusive, empowering learning environments. Why I’m Passionate About Special Education As a caregiver and Direct Support Professional, I’ve spent countless hours supporting individuals with intellectual and developmental disabilities. I’ve sat in IEP meetings, collaborated with speech therapists and occupational therapists, and implemented communication systems for nonverbal students. I’ve celebrated the day a student used a picture exchange card to say “help,” and I’ve witnessed the power of trust slowly built with a student who rarely made eye contact but began to reach for my hand. These aren’t just moments—they’re transformations. Working closely with families has shown me the immense love, advocacy, and emotional labor that happens outside the classroom. I want to be the kind of teacher who partners with families, respects their knowledge, and honors the full picture of a student’s life. This is what drives me: the opportunity to help students discover their own voices—whether spoken, signed, typed, or gestured—and to feel proud of their place in the world. Defining the Quote by Harold Bloom Professor Harold Bloom stated, "I have learned that the purpose of teaching is to bring the student to his or her sense of his or her own presence." This resonates deeply with my work. To me, it means guiding students to recognize their intrinsic worth, to know they matter, and to claim their space in the world with confidence. For students with disabilities—especially those who are nonverbal or have been underestimated—this sense of presence must be cultivated intentionally and with care. Presence is not just about visibility—it is about feeling empowered, expressive, and understood. For a student who communicates without words, that presence might be felt when they make a choice independently. For a student with anxiety, it may be when they raise their hand in class for the first time. My role as a special education teacher is to notice these moments, celebrate them, and build on them. Through person-centered teaching and inclusive practices, I will support students in becoming the authors of their own stories. My Mission as a Special Education Teacher My mission is to help each student feel seen, heard, and valued. I will create classroom spaces that are safe and flexible, where students’ sensory and communication needs are respected. I will use evidence-based practices like visual supports, AAC (Augmentative and Alternative Communication), and social stories to help nonverbal students engage fully. I will collaborate with families as partners and advocates, always remembering that behind every student is a network of people hoping for their success. I am committed to teaching in a way that emphasizes strength, not deficit. I want every student I teach to leave school knowing, “I belong. I am capable. I am powerful.” A Fairy Tale: The Heart of the Labyrinth Once upon a time, in a land of winding paths and echoing silence, there lived a young woman named Isabella. In this kingdom, many children were trapped in the Labyrinth of Labels—a confusing place where voices went unheard and gifts were often overlooked. These children were known not by their dreams, but by their diagnoses. But Isabella carried with her a radiant lantern, lit by patience, compassion, and hard-won experience. She had walked with those who couldn’t speak, listened to those who communicated with their eyes, and sat quietly beside those who needed time to trust. She had spent years in the quiet corners of the kingdom, helping children unlock the doors to their own light. With each step through the maze, she built bridges over fear, planted gardens of encouragement, and swept away the cobwebs of doubt. She learned to speak the language of gestures, of visual cues, and of presence. And slowly, the children began to step forward. They claimed their names—“Leader,” “Inventor,” “Friend,” “Dreamer”—and lit their own lanterns. Together, they reached the Heart of the Labyrinth, a glowing place of self-discovery and belonging. There, each child stood tall, knowing they were more than their labels. And Isabella, with her lantern still glowing, vowed to continue guiding others through the maze—not to rescue them, but to help them find the light they already carried inside. Closing Thoughts Special education is not just a field of study for me—it’s the culmination of years spent in direct care, advocacy, and community. It is the work of my hands and my heart. I carry with me the voices of nonverbal students, the hopes of families, and the strength of caregivers who keep showing up, day after day. With this scholarship, I will continue my journey with renewed determination—to teach, to empower, and to help every student I meet experience the joy of their own presence.