“We are moving in with your grandparents”, said my mom. At the time, I was 9 years old. My grandparents lived in a different state, and I was always so excited to go visit. Hearing this news, I was also excited. It took some time before I understood what was happening with my family, why we moved, and why we lived with my grandparents for a time. It took longer for me to understand why we had hand me down clothes, why people gave us family gifts at Christmas, and why my mom worked so hard with multiple jobs. Although I knew that I grew up with humble means, it wasn’t until I was in a professional development that I understood the seriousness of my family’s journey. I was one of those at-risk youths that I now was learning about as a teacher of at-risk youth. I utilize my life experiences daily, when I am working with students and with families. For example, some of these kids are really tough. They have been in foster care, are homeless, refugees, experienced abuse, are in gangs, etc. I may not have their exact experiences, but I too have baggage. Baggage that I am both saddened by and proud to have overcome. I use my story to relate to these students. And although I may not reach every kid that comes through my door, they seem to have a respect for my struggles. Enrolling in graduate school was a difficult decision, but it means that I will be able to have an opportunity to support a larger population of students. My passion is for at-risk youth, and with my master’s degree I will be able to be in a position to make systematic changes in education to support these kids.

As I drove home, I cried. Tomatoes and sour dough bread forgotten. How was I to know that a trip to the farmer’s market would be so emotional? It was an early summer evening and I was standing in line for fresh produce when I heard someone say, “Mrs. Barton?” I turned around and saw J, a former student of mine, and his mother. They were beaming at me as they shared that J had graduated from high school and was enrolled in the state university. Although a typical right of passage for a person his age, this achievement was not accomplished in the typical way. As a teacher in a middle school, I taught special education in a special class placement. This means that I taught students who struggled behaviorally and needed more supports than a resource setting could offer. J had been my student for three years. Although J had a high IQ, fantastic memory, and was academically capable, he could not identify whether a problem was a small, medium, or a large problem. J struggled with emotional regulation, peer interactions, and was not self-reliant because he has autism. The first day of school, J walked up to me and handed me his backpack. I handed it back and told him he needed to put it away himself. He looked puzzled and said that his elementary teacher always did it for him. When school starts, the weather is still hot, which means that we often have our windows open. Sometime during his first week of school, I was teaching a lesson at the front of the room, enjoying the slight breeze that came through the window. Suddenly, J stood up, screamed, and ran out of the room as fast as his body could take him (which was not fast because he was not very coordinated). The class looked confused, as did my paraeducators. That was they day that we found out that J was deathly afraid of bugs. Apparently a fly had come into the classroom and buzzed by his ear, prompting his heightened emotions. As time went on, my staff and I came to the conclusion that the elementary team had loved and cared for him to the point where he had learned helplessness. It made sense. J was a cute pudgy kid who loved the adults and seemed very babylike. But it is a problem. I like to explain behavior with this analogy. Puppies are cute. We want to cuddle them, care for them, and make their lives easier because “they are just a puppy”. Here is the problem. That puppy will grow up. When the puppy is small, you may help it get on the couch or lift it into the car when you travel. What happens when the puppy is no longer small and petite? Will you keep lifting it onto the couch or helping it into the car? At what point do you decide that the puppy is too large to be lifted? My paraeducators and I came up with a plan. I will not bore you with all the details, but main components included building independent skills (using a locker, gathering supplies for class, sharpening a pencil, etc.), systematic desensitization of bugs, and utilizing peer tutors. Over the course of the three years, my team worked hard to teach and prompt independent skills and began exposing J to bugs gradually, with pictures, videos, and then live bugs in jars. By the time J moved onto high school, he was able to independently use his locker, get the appropriate supplies needed for each class, and pack up his own belongings at the end of the day. J no longer needed to stay indoors when a class did an outside activity, because he was not as scared of bugs. Although he was still frightened by bees, he had decreased anxiety with butterflies, lady bugs, flies, and gnats. At that farmer’s market, J’s mom shared all of his accomplishments since his time with me, both big and small. Because for this kid, small accomplishments are large, and large accomplishments are huge. She shared that she saw the most growth in her child those three years he spent with me. In addition, she shared that whenever they drive by the middle school, J would say, “It’s the magic place with Mrs. Barton.” As a teacher of this specific demographic, I do not get many compliments or teacher appreciation gifts. I also do not get the privilege of knowing what becomes of my students once I pass them along. We always wish for the best. That day with J and his mom will stick with me for a very long time. Why then, did I cry all the way home? I cried because my heart was full. I was finally able to see the long term impact of my hard work. Knowing that I helped this one student was all the praise or accolades I will ever need.