V - Vital, Vocal

My first job in the public school system was working as a teacher's aide in a "severely disabled" special education classroom. It was challenging, but rewarding work. The class had one teacher and four aides. Plus, there were specialized social workers always coming in and out to deal with particular students' special needs (Braille training, therapy room equipment, computer software, bringing physical therapists, etc).

One of the other aides was a woman who I quickly came to admire and tried to emulate. While many people push people like the students in our classroom to the side, Donna reached out to them instinctively. She loved these kids and they knew it.

If one of them was having a difficult time or was getting worked up about something, Donna was a natural at helping them to become calm again and prevent an episode. She was able to get them to do the work they needed to do when they resisted. She was a calming presence to have in the room for the rest of the aides as well.

However, it wasn't just her gift with the students that I admired. It was her heart, her work ethic, and her determination to advocate for them. She not only knew her job in the classroom, but she had aggressively familiarized herself with government programs, grants, and other services available to help the families of these children. If she saw a need that could not be met by the school, she would make the phone calls and seek the information needed to find out how to meet that need. Then, once she had the answers, she would contact the family to show them how they could be helped.

When I asked her why she didn't just give the contact information to the families, she told me that many of these families were already overwhelmed with their responsibility of taking care of their child. She didn't want this search to be another burden. Plus, sometimes chasing down the benefits of these programs was complex and time-consuming. That's why she continued to assist the families with applying and filing the correct paperwork to apply for whatever help was available. She also pointed out that the children with disabilities as severe as the ones we had in our classroom did not attend public school if their parents had any money or decent insurance. Our school was in the inner city and most of our students came from very poor households. Their parents were often undereducated and rarely capable of navigating the complicated maze of government bureaucracy. Therefore, she guided them through the entire process. (This level of involvement with the families was frowned upon by the school system. This is why I am not mentioning her name in this post.)

She spoke up loudly when the school instituted any policy that did not consider the impact it would have on the students in our classroom. She told the other aides, teachers, and administrators exactly what she thought of them and their handling of any situation involving our classroom. Whether good or bad. She was always brutally honest. She believed mincing words and playing games to garner favor with people cost the kids too much time getting what they needed.

She would often come up beside me to show a better way to connect with a student or get a job done. She quickly figured out with each student the proper use of touch, voice, movements, or words to use in whatever was needed at the moment. And she wanted more than anything to share what she was doing so others could do it also. She was quick to correct her coworkers, but somehow she made us feel uplifted rather than scolded. She was an amazing woman.

She is one of those people selflessly working an underpaid, thankless job in a corner where she will never be noticed. However, she is immensely impacting the lives of dozens of families every week. The world needs more people like her.

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This month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. Each day this month, people around the world are writing blog posts and working their way through the alphabet. Each person decides their own personal theme. I am writing about people who have affected my life.