A Very Special Prom

Spring is just around the bend.
If you happen to be a high school teacher, the coming of the spring season means prom.
And "Prom" is a loaded word packed with a whole lot of emotional baggage. And that baggage isn't always a trendy, flight ready carry-on either. Sometimes it's a ratty old backpack filled with rocks.

It might mean the time of a very young life for some.
There might be glamorous dresses, a first tux, dinner at a fancy restaurant, or a fine ride in a rented car.

From experience I can tell you that kids invest a whole lot in planning for that one special night. Tons of teenage time, energy and angst goes into it. Not to mention often ridiculous amounts of money.
It takes a whole lot of burger flippin' to pay for glamour.

But it also might mean the pain and heartache of not being asked.
And sometimes the pain and heartache that comes from making some really wrong choices on prom night.

Yes, prom can bring joy or misery.
And no matter who you are, homecoming queen or computer geek, prom is often heavy with piles of that pesky baggage.
While it may seem to adults to be just a frivolous rite of passage for young people, I've seldom met a grown-up who doesn't remember their senior prom.
And I've yet to meet a teenager who didn't consider it a big deal in their lives. No matter what they tell you.
The memories linger for sure. And sometimes haunt.

Well, our two youngest daughters are the Junior and Senior class sponsors at their high school here in the big city. So that means they're responsible for the school prom.
This time of year they're up to their necks in venue and caterer finding,  decor planning,  musician choosing,  photographer booking,  budget squeezing, centerpiece making  and twinklelight stringing.
After prom they collapse in a heap of tired high school teacher and wonder why they chose this thankless profession.

But they also sponsor a second prom.
Many teachers, students, and parents don't know about it.
It's a little smaller in scale and this year's was held just yesterday. I talked to our daughters for just a bit after it was over.
They were exhausted, as usual, from all the prom'y' preparations and goings-on.

But this time was different.
They went home to collapse in a heap of tired high school teacher knowing exactly why they chose this thankless profession.

You see, this event is held especially for the kids in Special Ed programs.
And while the students in special ed classes are certainly invited to their regular school dances, most seldom care to go.
Because sometimes it's hard for a teenager to feel comfortable at a dance if they happen to be in a wheelchair or have cerebral palsy.

So the Student Council, also sponsored by these same teachers, has an annual Valentine's Day Prom especially for these young people.

The students are bussed in from all the high schools in the district. Wheelchair ramps get a real workout that day.

Before their arrival, young ladies with braces on their legs have had mascara and lipstick artfully applied by homcoming royalty at their home school. Hair has been glamorously coiffed by cheerleaders.
Football players and basketball jocks have taught the boys the fine art of tying a tie and the proper amount of cologne to apply.
Beautiful dresses were made available for anyone who needed a gown. Suit coats were on hand for the gentlemen.

The event is held in a lovely decorated room with a luncheon provided. This year there was a chocolate fountain and the gym had been transformed into a "Candy Wonderland." Last year they were magically taken back to the "Fifties."

Dance lessons can be seen being given by the Stu-co kids even as the music plays and the dancing begins. All of the students, regular and special ed, join in together.

Memorable things happen just as they do at any other prom.

I remember once Kelley told me about one of her cheerleaders who came back to the buffet table from the dance floor wiping her ear.
The girl explained that a boy had asked her to dance and while they were doing so proceeded to lick her ear. He immediately let her go, laughed excitedly, jumped up and down, and ran over to his teacher to tell her what he'd done.
Kelley explained that the young man had Down's syndrome and had probably been told by someone that licking ears is what boys are supposed to do with pretty girls. Maybe it was one of the student council jocks teaching more than tie tying.
All the rest of the dance that sweet boy would smile broadly and wave to the girl, who waved back nicely. But he never asked her to dance again. Mission accomplished I guess.

Another lovely student council girl shared with Beth that one of the boys had just asked her to be his girlfriend. She hadn't been a girlfriend yet because her family thought she was too young. But instead of trying to explain it to him she just said, "Yes, I'll be your girlfriend at every Valentine's dance."
It made him very happy.

So, at the end of this dance, some of the best spirits, saved for the last days, handicapped or hale and hearty, have a prom memory that will last a lifetime.

Some of the special ed kids may have been asked to dance for the first time in their lives.

Some of the regular ed kids may feel a little more grateful for blessings they've taken for granted. Things like being able to walk, see or hear. Or do algebra even.

And all of them may have made a friend or two who may be a little bit different from their other friends on the outside. But inside are very much just like anybody else.

And two tired high school teachers go home to collapse in an exhausted heap once again. But this time knowing that they just did one of the best things they do all year.

My Bulb Lit!

The other day I wanted to give up.
I was trying to do something and it was too hard.
I'm not usually a quitter but lately throwing in the towel seems more and more like the only sensible thing to do. Then I remembered a student I once had,  many years ago,  whose "bulb lit."

I was teaching in a middle school classroom. We were working on some science concepts that one boy found really challenging. He raised his hand and said in frustration,  "Mrs. Wagher, I've read the pages in our book,  I've listened to you explain it,  I even asked my dad for help and I still don't get it and I never will!

I took a long breath and looked at him menacingly.

"Now you've done it!  I said in a loud and dramatic voice.   Now you've really gone and done it!"  Now the whole class has to get out of their study groups and get in their seats to listen to my high school chemistry story and the Kelley driving story."

Groans all around.  Muttered threats of retaliation directed to the boy.  I ignored them and proceeded.

"Back in the day, I was the smartest kid in my high school chemistry class," I began.  "Everybody knew it too.  I always had the answer.  But one week we were working on something that I just couldn't figure out for the life of me. I'd read the chapter, listened to the lecture,  and carefully studied the drawings on the board. Nothing. Everybody else understood it but me!  The kids who got "F"s were trying to help me.  The teacher left the critical diagrams on the board so he could see if I could explain them at the end of each class. Nothing worked.  Finally he said that I was to re-read the chapter, thinking hard all the while, every single night until I got it. Great.

Well, I did re-read and think hard, three times as a matter of fact. And that chapter was long and complicated too. I still didn't get it. Chemistry was like a millstone around my neck!

On the morning of the third try I walked into class ready for failure and humiliation again. I looked at the board, my teacher caught my eye and said, "Okay, Kathy, think and go for it."
I looked at the dreaded drawings.

But, Amazing Grace, I didn't have to think at all!
Some sort of magic switch flipped in my head, the light came on, and I understood!!!  I stopped every kid as they came in the door to explain it in detail before they got to their seat. One girl pinched me hard as she passed by.

In any case, class, my point being that you just have to think, and think, read and re-read until the light comes on. You can't give up just because it's hard."

Then there's the Kelley learning to drive story.

Larry taught our other kids, but somehow I was the one teaching the youngest to drive. Not exactly one of the most sought after parenting jobs, I can tell you.

Kelley was weird about it anyway. She was well over the age to have a driver's license but refused to learn.  She said she was way too busy to mess with it. Granted she was involved in a lot of activities at school and now even had a job at the bank in town. (All of which were 17 miles away from home up Highway 260, sometimes in snow and ice by the way.) Nevertheless to being busy, we were sick of dragging her wherever she needed to go at all hours of the day and night. So we put our feet down.
She was made to take the wheel whenever she and I drove anywhere, mostly on said highway, to and from town and school.

I carefully explained all the basics of driver's ed and off we went.

It was terrifying! The child was white knuckled all the way and you could tell she was barely in control of the car at all. Since the speed limit was 65 miles an hour I was white knuckled too. This went on for weeks.

I could not believe this! Here was an unusually bright kid who had never failed at anything she tried! She just couldn't get it! Why? What was wrong with her?  Could it possibly be her teacher?

I was going to be the parent of the only child living in the American southwest, land of multi-lane freeways and at least one automobile for every adult, who couldn't drive a car! There was no reliable public transportation in the desert. Or the mountains! For Pete's sake, this wasn't New York! She'll be handicapped all her life! People will blame her mother! Why?! Why?! Why?!

I looked up at her face in despair. I noticed her eyes looking over at the side of the road. All the time. Going 65. Eyes at the side.

"What are you looking at?" I almost yelled.

"I'm looking at the white line at the side,"  she said. "You told me to keep the car on this side of that line."

"What!   Yeah, keep the car on this side of the line but LOOK up the road!    Far up the road!   Don't look at the side!   Look at the top of that hill coming up!"

She did.

She drove a few hundred feet.

The white knuckles relaxed. The car came under control. She glanced over at me and said, "Why didn't you tell me this before!?"

A simple thing. She was looking at it wrong. A minor change and the light came on.

So students, let this be a lesson to you. Don't give up! Sometimes, after a lot of work and frustration the light will come on and you'll get it."

A few days later something happened that I'll always treasure as a teacher.

The class was quietly working on science.  Suddenly a chair toppled over loudly as my "challenged" student jumped up excitedly from his work.

"Mrs. Wagher!  Mrs. Wagher!  he shouted excitedly,  My bulb lit!!!"

Indeed.

What is it that the scriptures say?  Something about not being weary in well doing I think. That's good advice.  You never know how hard you may have to try before you get it.

Remember. Be not weary. Don't give up. Your bulb will light too.

   

Remember the Important Thing

Remember the Important Thing

My very first year of teaching brought me a lesson that became very valuable to me as a parent. 
I was teaching 7th and 8th grade math.  I was part of a group of eight junior high teachers and four “specials,” as we called them. "Specials" taught art, PE and music. 
It was conference time. 
At this school Parent teacher conferences were held in the gym.  The teachers sat at tables around the edge of the basketball court and chairs for parents were lined up in the middle. There were no set appointments because each student had a different teacher for every subject. Parents waited for an opening with the person they wanted to talk to and then could move on to another. 
It was all very efficient.

Well, after many conferences the evening was winding down and I’d had no parents for about 15 minutes. One of the moms sitting and waiting for another teacher came over and sat down to chat. I introduced myself and it turned out that I didn’t have her son in my class. I’d heard about him though.

Soon this Mom began to open up about her son’s teachers and the school. 
She expressed in no uncertain terms her displeasure. 
All involved with her child were idiots who were trying to push her kid around. They’d done the same thing with her older boy. All the things her sons had been accused of were someone else’s fault. 
She’d been down to see the principal several times this year to make sure he knew about his teachers’ stupidity. 
Now she was planning to go to the school board to tell them of the principal’s stupidity. They should all be fired. Her husband felt the same way.

Well, I was new at this parent teacher conference thing, but I was very glad that I didn’t have this particular boy in my class. 
Sensing trouble on the horizon I tried to make small talk on a more neutral topic. I mentioned that I lived in the area and had a child starting at the same high school where her older boy must be attending. I asked about her older son to see if he might know mine or be trying out for the same teams. Anything to steer the conversation in a more positive direction. 
I’ll never forget her answer.

She glanced over to see if there was an opening at the next “idiot” teacher’s table and said, “Oh, he wouldn’t know him. My son quit. He doesn’t go to school anymore.”

I was speechless for a bit and then grateful as she left to see the next idiot. 
Food for thought, to be sure. 
So I began to think. 
This poor young man had been taught powerful lessons about education by his parents. 
His entire life would be affected by what he learned from them. How he spends a huge chunk of his time each day, the people he associates with, the type of home he lives in, the car he drives, where he goes on vacation, what he can provide for his own family will all be influenced. 

As I sadly thought about this young man I began to get concerned about my own family. 
What should my husband’s and my attitude be on this subject with our own kids? 
Well, I finally decided that our attitude should be something quite shocking.
It's that the teacher and the school are always right. 

Now, being a teacher myself I knew very well that the teacher and the school are certainly not always right. 
I myself, was usually wrong at least once before lunch every day. 
But I decided that it was important to our children’s future that they think that their parents were solidly behind the school….pretty much no matter what.

Education would be a top priority in our family. 
If we had issues with teachers or the school we would deal with it without the kids knowing about it. 
I wanted them to believe that even though some teachers will be more skilled than others, they could learn something from all of them. In fact, it was their job to do exactly that. 
It was their important job and responsibility to complete all requirements and to get credit for every class. 
If there were problems they should deal with it. 

A while later I got some feedback on how we were doing with this policy. 
On the way home from school one afternoon two daughters were complaining about a teacher and the unfair policies in his class. 
From the back seat one child asked me if I agreed. Before I could answer, the other one said, “Never mind…with her the teacher is always right!” 

Now I knew perfectly well that the teacher isn’t always right, but my heart went “Woo Hoo!” anyway.

I think it’s crucial for parents to remember something here. 
It’s the old, “It’s important to keep the important thing the important thing.” 
That's the principle that’s at the heart of this parenting issue. 
You see, I don’t have an eternal relationship with the teacher, the school or the principal. It’s not important for me to be “right” when dealing with them. They’ll come and go as the years pass. 
I do have an eternal relationship with my children however. 
I know that an education and completing school will make a difference in their lives in countless ways.

The prophets have told us how important this issue is to all of us. I believe them.
I also believe a parent’s attitude toward school is one thing that may make a huge difference, maybe even for generations to come.