Folding, spindeling, and mutilating lauguage for fun since Aug, 2004
Wednesday, 28 February 2007

Today was the last day of the term for my Wednesday class.  I am always sad to see the end of our six-week terms.  Mostly because in the past, there has been a two-month –long hiatus, and in the mean-time my families get busy with other stuff and don’t come back.

(For those of you who don’t know, I teach two Kung Fu classes for special needs kids.  I told my SiFu a while ago that this was one of my goals, so he found some classes for me to teach.)

This time, there is only one month between terms, and they handed out registration forms right in the class.  All of the parents swore they would be back.  I’ve heard that before.  In all this time, I’ve only had one family return…but hopefully we will keep the terms going back-to-back in the future and get better retention.

I’ve got to tell you about one of the kids, though.  I’ll call him Sport.  He walked in the very first day, chest puffed out, head up, looking around the room as he crossed it with a confident stride. 

“I’m going to like this class.  I’m going to be really good at it.  I can tell.  This is going to be great.”

Sport started and ended every one of the six classes we had with that attitude.  Shouting “Look at me, I’m doing this really good!”  When I have them do a stretch, and tell them where they should feel it, Sport always declares “I feel it!  I’m feeling the stretch!”  So excited.

Sport has serious problems with balance, and his muscles are as tight as a tow strap trying to pull a Hummer up a hill out of a foot of clay mud.

His greatest asset is his attitude, which never seems to tire or disappear.  He shows up on time, every week, striding confidently into the room, squinting through his glasses with the one eye that isn’t covered with an eye patch, 1000-kilowat grin on his face, and a story about whatever great exploit he accomplished today.

Today I presented him with his certificate of achievement and a little medal on a red-white-and-blue ribbon.  He put it around his neck, grabbed his dad by the hand and said “I’m going to wear this to bed tonight.” As he walked out the door.

I wonder if he’ll come back, I wonder if I was able to help him at all in the six short weeks I had with him.

Whatever the outcome for me, I imagine Sport will have few problems ahead in life despite his difficulties.  I have a feeling that even if he doesn’t walk back through that door, I’m going to be hearing about him again.

Wednesday, 28 February 2007 21:57:56 (Central Standard Time, UTC-06:00) | Comments [4] | #
Wednesday, 28 February 2007 23:00:57 (Central Standard Time, UTC-06:00)
Thanks

I needed that story today.
Thursday, 01 March 2007 06:21:24 (Central Standard Time, UTC-06:00)
Glad I could help. What's up? send me an e-mail.

Thursday, 01 March 2007 11:26:32 (Central Standard Time, UTC-06:00)
Oh, that is a wonderful story Teresa. Thanks for sharing it. My wife is an elementary music teacher and is getting into Resource (working with special needs kids) and I myself teach oboe to kids. It is so wonderful to actually be witness to profound moments in young peoples' lives. To watch it happen in their faces and their attitudes. Sport sounds like a very special person.
Good on 'ya! That story is making me get away from this confounded comp. screen and go for my long neglected run. Thanks!
Cheers
Thursday, 01 March 2007 18:25:58 (Central Standard Time, UTC-06:00)
Hey Ranger,

Thanks! Good for you and your wife, as well. Music is such an important and unfortunatly undervalued componant to education.
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