Guiding Lights: My Passion for Special Education and the Power of Presence “I have learned that the purpose of teaching is to bring the student to his or her sense of his or her own presence.” – Professor Harold Bloom, Possessed by Memory Harold Bloom’s words resonate deeply with my heart and my purpose. His statement is simple, yet it carries profound meaning: teaching is not merely about academic transmission but about awakening the soul within each student. To bring a student to a sense of their “own presence” means to help them realize their inner strength, value, and capability. For me, this philosophy is not abstract—it is a living truth that shapes my purpose in becoming a special education teacher. Special education is not about focusing on deficits; it is about unlocking potential. It is not about defining students by what they cannot do, but about nurturing who they are. Every student I have encountered has their own form of brilliance. Some express it in words, others through art, movement, persistence, or emotion. As an educator, my role is to hold up the mirror so they can see themselves with clarity, strength, and joy. That, in essence, is my mission. Defining “Presence” To guide students toward their own presence, we must first define what “presence” means. It is not simply being in a classroom physically. It is not measured by test scores or perfect attendance. Presence is internal awareness—it is the feeling of being seen, of being heard, and of knowing you matter. It is self-recognition, self-advocacy, and self-worth. Students with special needs are often denied this sense of presence because they are judged by what they lack rather than who they are. A child with nonverbal autism may have deep thoughts and emotions but lack a way to express them. A student with dyslexia may be an extraordinary storyteller whose mind moves faster than the words they can read. Helping them find presence is about helping them find their voice—however that voice appears. For these students, discovering their presence is a transformative experience. It allows them to connect with the world on their terms, in their unique ways. This is what I am passionate about—guiding students to feel whole, capable, and powerful. My Mission as a Special Education Teacher My mission is to create a classroom that radiates inclusion, safety, celebration, and growth. A space where students are not merely accommodated, but truly valued. Where every child is empowered to be themselves, and where every victory—no matter how small—is honored. 1. Connection Before Content The first step to helping students find their presence is building trust. I will prioritize personal connection over immediate instruction. I will learn about each student’s strengths, fears, goals, and personality. Understanding who they are will guide how I teach them, support them, and empower them. Before academic progress can occur, emotional safety must be established. 2. Expression Without Limitations Many of my students will face challenges in communication. I will use every available tool—speech-to-text programs, picture schedules, sign language, movement, and music—to help them express themselves. If one method doesn’t work, we’ll try another. Students must know that their voices matter, even if those voices are expressed differently. 3. A Culture of True Inclusion I believe in a classroom where difference is celebrated, not merely tolerated. That means fostering inclusion both structurally and culturally. Peer buddy programs, shared storytelling, and inclusive group work will be built into my classroom routines. I will ensure that students feel not just welcomed—but essential. 4. Family Partnerships Parents and guardians are my most valuable collaborators. They offer insight into their child’s needs, history, and personality. I will build ongoing partnerships with families, not just for IEP meetings but throughout the year. Communication, transparency, and teamwork will be at the core of every plan I create. 5. Holding the Mirror Students often internalize doubt, especially when they struggle to meet traditional academic expectations. I will serve as their mirror—showing them their progress, effort, courage, and growth. My classroom will be a place of validation and self-discovery. I will help them see the light that already exists within them. The Fairy Tale: “The Lantern and the Stars” Once upon a time, in a quiet misty valley, lived a teacher named Elira. She didn’t carry a sword or wear a crown, but she held a lantern that never went out. This lantern couldn’t slay monsters or part seas—but it had the power to reveal things long forgotten. Elira walked into a forest known as the Forest of Forgotten Voices. Children lived there—not because they were lost, but because the world had forgotten to hear them. Some had voices no one understood. Some had dreams they could not explain. Some knew the stars better than the words spoken around them. Elira sat beside a boy who only spoke in colors. She painted with him until the walls were filled with his language. She danced beside a girl who didn’t use words but told stories with her hands. Elira listened to their rhythm. For each child, she lit a spark from her lantern, placing it gently in their hands. “You are here,” she whispered to them. “You belong.” The children began to glow. They called out their names, remembered their dreams, and looked to the stars. The vines that tangled their feet melted. The forest began to sing. And Elira kept walking, lantern in hand, guiding the next child to their own light. A Human Passion I did not choose special education because it is easy. I chose it because it is necessary. Because these students deserve someone in their corner. Because too many children go unheard for too long. I chose it because I believe that with patience, care, and creativity, we can change a child’s trajectory. I am deeply aware that there will be challenging days. Days where a child struggles to regulate their emotions, when IEP goals feel out of reach, or when I second-guess myself. But I also know that growth is rarely linear, and that transformation often begins in the smallest breakthroughs—a shared smile, a word finally spoken, a moment of clarity after weeks of confusion. What makes this profession so meaningful is not just the victories, but the journey. Every step a child takes toward presence is a miracle. Every new word, every self-advocating action, every confident glance is proof of their emerging light. And in truth, my students guide me just as much as I guide them. They teach me about joy in simplicity, courage in silence, and creativity beyond convention. They remind me that success is not uniform—and that love and learning can take infinite forms. Bloom’s Legacy and My Future Harold Bloom dedicated over six decades of his life to guiding students toward the recognition of themselves. His words are now a cornerstone of my mission. If I can help even one child feel their presence—to know, truly know, that they matter—then I will have lived a life of purpose. Because every time a student with a speech delay says “I did it,” or a child who avoids eye contact smiles up at me with confidence, or a learner once defined by limitations leads others into play and joy—that is presence. That is Bloom’s vision fulfilled. That is the heartbeat of special education. And like Elira in the forest, I will keep my lantern lit. I will walk beside my students—into classrooms, into IEP meetings, into every challenge and triumph—until every child feels the warmth of their own light.