What Tom Can Do
by Amy Campbell, 2020 Washington Teacher of the Year
Editor’s Note: We’re sharing the From Seed to Apple stories written by 2020 Washington Regional Teachers of the Year. Read more about From Seed to Apple, now in it’s 10th year, on our website.
How an asset-based approach to special education can transform a community
Twelve years ago, I stepped into my first classroom. I had an undergraduate degree in psychology, a Master in Teaching, and an endorsement in special education. I knew about learning and I knew about teaching and I knew about disabilities. I had a lot of tools at my disposal, and I was ready to buckle down and start to fix problems. My focus was on addressing deficits, setbacks, and learning gaps, and my students — students with moderate to profound disabilities — had many of those. I used to walk away from each day exhausted and emotional and feeling alone and disconnected. I am sure my students did too.
I remember at an early IEP meeting feeling frustrated sharing Mark’s IQ and adaptive scores with his family and then based on those scores guiding the team to craft an IEP that aligned to my perception of Mark’s capabilities. In assuming I knew the implications of the information I was sharing with his parents, I was limiting Mark. It wasn’t a bad meeting and I wasn’t a bad teacher, but my limited experiences and perspective affected Mark’s services.
Things might not have changed except for two powerful conversations I had early in my career.
First, after a day of difficult teaching, and students struggling with the same concepts despite my careful instruction, an administrator advised me, “Mrs. Campbell, it is important to always have a positive presupposition.” He reminded me how my amazing relationships with my students provide me the unique ability to personalize what I teach and how I teach.
With a positive presupposition, I started looking past deficit and disability and started seeing ways to access and build on the potential in my students. Despite what I thought I knew about disabilities and education, all my students had amazing skills, true interests, and the ability to participate in rich academic experiences when I took the time to truly individualize instruction.
Tom, one of my students who has a big bright smile and beaming eyes, also has Down syndrome and autism. Tom has a loving family who worried about his future and wanted to advocate for the best education they could get to ensure positive outcomes for their son. At Tom’s IEP meeting, I waited to share that an IQ test had indicated a score 3 standard deviations below the mean. First I shared that he was starting to read now that I had focused my instruction on books that were of interest to him, books about dogs, and how he was starting to type with laser prompting to find the keys, and how he was solving simple math problems using a talking calculator and number stamps to mark his answers. Tom’s love of technology meant that previous pencil and paper barriers were overcome with a presupposition that he could write if I could find the right method or tool for him.
The other conversation that had an impact on me was with a parent. I was told, in no uncertain terms, that I was “segregating her child.” My focus on maximizing time delivering direct instruction in my classroom meant that I was inadvertently minimizing the opportunities my students had to participate in social and academic learning with their peers in general education settings. I remember wanting to argue, but I realized that I didn’t have an adequate answer for her. This conversation led to years of reflection on how inclusion and access to the community are a right for all students and a responsibility of our educational system. Developing inclusive opportunities for students has been a work in progress as I learn ways to enlist the support of staff and other students. But it has been the most rewarding work of my life, and the benefits for the entire community are too many to count.
For Tom, access to inclusive experiences was centered on finding meaningful opportunities that matched his interests and also built his skills and sense of self. When the general education teacher heard about what he could do academically, rather than what he couldn’t do, she could picture my suggestions for academic opportunity and build on them, including hands on science and social studies times and morning work with his calculator. We found opportunities for inclusion in my classroom too, where students from his general education class could come participate in Tom’s social skills group. Everyone would finally be able to learn how to use his new communication devise together. Probably most exciting was the addition of daily “Book Buddy” reading time during the general education classroom silent reading time. During Book Buddies, Tom would be able to read any books he liked or have his peers read to him. He would be actively learning alongside his peers.
Only a short time after the implementation of Book Buddies, Tom’s peers noticed the types of books and the topics that excited him, immediately recognizing his love of animal books. I would often hear a buddy offering, “do you want to read this dog book?” Students who didn’t usually want to read out loud, or read at all, would often read to Tom, and his willing smile kept them motivated even as they worked to sound out words. The teacher reported fewer discipline problems and overall participation in reading increased as all students enjoyed reading together. When Tom wasn’t there, someone always came searching for their peer who loved reading. As I watched Tom charge into his 4th grade classroom and pick up books to read to his friends (pointing out pictures of familiar words or characters), it was clear to me that Tom knew he was a reader and that he belonged in this class. The disability and the IQ score did not matter
Tom’s situation is not unique. Though I imagine my job will always be hard work, now it is the work of innovation and inspiration. I can see the results of my labor as students with disabilities make real academic gains and see their own worth and place in this world, and the world is able to see my students for their inherent value and their contributions. By creating both social and academically inclusive experiences, I am building community for my students and for myself, and we, all of us together, are winning.
I got a text message from Tom’s mom on the first day of school this year. He had moved up to the middle school. It’s a very nerve-wracking transition for most parents, and Tom’s parents were no exception. In the text was a picture of Tom in an assembly with 800 other students. He was surrounded by peers and they were all smiling. The message read, “Thank you for giving him community.”
The truth is, by investigating Tom’s unique skills and interests and then leveraging those to create meaningful opportunities for him to participate with his peers, I had actually given Tom to the community. And he is an amazing gift!
