I was enlisted to tutor a local eighth-grade, special education student who had been mainstreamed and had been in regular education classes for a few years. Not knowing the scope of his special education needs, I prepared seventh and eighth-grade lesson materials before his pre-tutoring interview. I quickly discovered that he was a child who had been left behind in our city's ailing, public school system; he had clearly fallen through cracks and had been blatantly neglected.
Joel did not know his times tables!! He had been taught some sort of "special" approach to solving them of which I was unfamiliar. The multi-step strategy seemed confusing and tedious and took for granted he had no memory skills. This time-consuming strategy had to be repeated for all multiplication facts he was presented with: 3X3, 4X8, 6X7, etc. I thought, "What on earth….?" No wonder this poor guy is failing eighth-grade math. By the time you're in eighth-grade math, there are countless, even endless complex multiplication equations you are expected to solve as you move through introductory algebra. This poor guy was lost. He had been robbed of an integral part of his mathematical foundation and barely had anything to stand on. With minimal multiplication skills, he was crippled in division. How could he then approach algebra? How could he convert fractions to decimals?
Joel had been told all of his life that he was "special education." Tutors at school supposedly provided the support he needed to function in a regular classroom. However, there seemed to be an understanding that he was not fully capable of doing math like his "regular" peers. His mother informed me, "I was special education, too." So Joel accepted his special education "limitations" —very peacefully. He was so well-mannered, so agreeable, manageable and teachable that I wondered if he could do more.
My first order of business was to tell Joel just what I thought of his special-education math strategies (not very much) and to tell him that I thought he could challenge and even surge ahead of his math peers. I told him, "Special education my foot!" I could see him wondering about this, and he was very flattered. I began saying things that he hadn't heard before: "You can do it… You can be better than this… You can be better than them… Memorize these…You are awesome, and you know this stuff… You're brilliant… You can do what they do… They're not better than you…This is your event; you know what to do…" Joel lit up like a Christmas tree. Joel embraced math and began to hope.
We worked our way up through his years of neglect starting with third-grade skills, and Joel travelled quickly through the math levels. Finally we were in a sixth-grade text book, and there was a big light at the end of the tunnel as Joel moved faster and faster, like something had ignited within him. It was as though literal holes were being filled in across the board of educational life. Joel learned his times tables, and long division, and to solve algebraic equations. Joel passed eighth-grade math.
What can Joel's success story teach us? We can clearly see that we can't paint special education with a broad brush. Let us look at each child individually. Let's not tell them what they can't do; let's show them what they can do. I get emotional when I tell Joel's story, and I ache for the special education pupils who are being left behind in their classrooms by educators who convey the wrong message to them. These are people who don't challenge them and don't recognize the gifts that lie within them – and don't love them. If you can love them as well as love what you do, you can make a difference.
Joel did not know his times tables!! He had been taught some sort of "special" approach to solving them of which I was unfamiliar. The multi-step strategy seemed confusing and tedious and took for granted he had no memory skills. This time-consuming strategy had to be repeated for all multiplication facts he was presented with: 3X3, 4X8, 6X7, etc. I thought, "What on earth….?" No wonder this poor guy is failing eighth-grade math. By the time you're in eighth-grade math, there are countless, even endless complex multiplication equations you are expected to solve as you move through introductory algebra. This poor guy was lost. He had been robbed of an integral part of his mathematical foundation and barely had anything to stand on. With minimal multiplication skills, he was crippled in division. How could he then approach algebra? How could he convert fractions to decimals?
Joel had been told all of his life that he was "special education." Tutors at school supposedly provided the support he needed to function in a regular classroom. However, there seemed to be an understanding that he was not fully capable of doing math like his "regular" peers. His mother informed me, "I was special education, too." So Joel accepted his special education "limitations" —very peacefully. He was so well-mannered, so agreeable, manageable and teachable that I wondered if he could do more.
My first order of business was to tell Joel just what I thought of his special-education math strategies (not very much) and to tell him that I thought he could challenge and even surge ahead of his math peers. I told him, "Special education my foot!" I could see him wondering about this, and he was very flattered. I began saying things that he hadn't heard before: "You can do it… You can be better than this… You can be better than them… Memorize these…You are awesome, and you know this stuff… You're brilliant… You can do what they do… They're not better than you…This is your event; you know what to do…" Joel lit up like a Christmas tree. Joel embraced math and began to hope.
We worked our way up through his years of neglect starting with third-grade skills, and Joel travelled quickly through the math levels. Finally we were in a sixth-grade text book, and there was a big light at the end of the tunnel as Joel moved faster and faster, like something had ignited within him. It was as though literal holes were being filled in across the board of educational life. Joel learned his times tables, and long division, and to solve algebraic equations. Joel passed eighth-grade math.
What can Joel's success story teach us? We can clearly see that we can't paint special education with a broad brush. Let us look at each child individually. Let's not tell them what they can't do; let's show them what they can do. I get emotional when I tell Joel's story, and I ache for the special education pupils who are being left behind in their classrooms by educators who convey the wrong message to them. These are people who don't challenge them and don't recognize the gifts that lie within them – and don't love them. If you can love them as well as love what you do, you can make a difference.
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