Educating Special-Ed Kids

One of the dilemmas I've faced at a new school I'm teaching at this year resonates with the message of this past week's parsha, namely, the extent to which values breed new behavior patterns, or vice versa.

The students I teach are undoubtedly considered special-ed, but, in addition, some have severe behavioral issues and cognitive difficulties, and all, struggle with regulation. As I am new to this type of work, I have had to learn how to reconcile some preconceived notions with the approach taken by the particular school. For example, more often than not, students fail to bring writing implements, let alone notebooks, or their workbooks. These are students who, in another teacher's words, "would be out on the streets," were they not in my classroom.

As for how to teach students who come wholly unprepared, early on, I was in favor of coming with a stash of pencils or pens, but was strictly prohibited from doing so; they have to learn basic talmida'ut I was told, the basic life skills inherent to being a student. "How else," I was told, "would they become functional adults?"

It seems to me that the Sefer Ha'chinuch on the mitzvah of the paschal offering can add some insight.

On the seder night, writes "The Chinuch," we're supposed to internalize new values and traits through reliving the experience of our ancestors. Each and every element of the historical act of korban Pesach was aimed at that. For example, one is not allowed to break a bone so as to feel the majesty of a free man; one who breaks on a bone to suck on its marrow lives in a state of poverty, the meanness of his state outstripping his newfound liberty. At the seder, we recline to feel the freedom, and relaxation of one who can regale in the four cups of wine. With that said, we break off a piece of the matza in yachatz, because a poor man saves his meager bread for later. Obviously, similarly, the act of eating matza is highly symbolic, the bread, or meal of affliction, not of the newfound grandeur, but rather, one's still humble roots. We, writes the Chinuch, act in certain ways to become different people.

And now, back to the pencils. The principal and administrators are striving for students who internalize these ideals, or rather, who already have. But sometimes, to feel what it's like to be a student, you actually have to be one, i.e. be given/lent a pen or pencil, until you fortify the understanding, or experience of having been one, so you thirst for it again.

In the end, today, the principal gave me a box of pencils to have for students. Tired of empty threats, sending, or rather, not sending students home for failure to bring the necessary paraphernalia – and the aftermath of dealing with parents that it would entail, the principal gave me a nod, saying, "so you have these available." I don't know who's right, but it seems like, as with most things in life, a middle ground requires both sides giving, a push/pull modality where you aim high but accept the fact when your achievements fall short of your expectations.