We attended the Memorial Dedication Service at VaTech this afternoon. The weekend had been wonderful to that point, what with moving our Hokie Girl into her new apartment and helping her get settled for a new year. Thoughts of Reema and Erin were strong, and I asked to go by their old rooms in the dorm to pay my silent respects. Luckily, no current dorm residents were around, so we could pray a moment at each door, both grateful for their love and hopeful for the healing their families' still need to find.
The ceremony itself was just fine. The weight of sadness felt familiar, as did communal experience, the understanding that we were in this together.
Again, we were reminded that those lost left much undone, but had lived extraordinary lives nonetheless. We were called to continued service in their names.
And now comes word that another of my daughter's school friends is one of Tech kids' sickened by carbon monoxide in their apartment. She is on a respirator, we hear, receiving the best care available. We are praying for her and her family and all those affected by this useless tragedy.
This feels like too much.
A veteran emotional disabilities teacher contemplates the challenges and joys of teaching in a 30 kid, self-contained special ed program.
Mrs. Ris, a la The Simpsons
Confidentiality Protects Kids
As I explore the issues of teaching my emotionally disabled students, I purposefully change names, genders, ages, and other salient information. If you think you know who I am writing about, you're probably wrong. After 22 years of teaching, I have a wide variety of resources to inspire my reflections. My goal is to provoke discussion, but never at the expense of professional confidentiality.
From an unknown but appreciated source....
"Once we believe in ourselves, we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit."
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