Last Day!

Today is marked as the Last Day for my students on their very first year of school! It has ended with a Parents Meeting that went, kinda well, and lots of hugs & tears.

I don't have much to say. Its just that it would be so hard to come again to school and find the class empty and quiet. But I think I need some time off to reflect on my YEAR ONE of teaching. I've done so many mistakes, yet, I came to discover certain points of strength that I need to build on for my YEAR 2 inshallah.

My plans for the upcoming 6 weeks:

• Write down final reports for my students
• Prepare drafts of the IEP for next year
• Clean the classroom
• Decorate the classroom for next year
• Re-arrange the physical environment
• Prepare the units and lesson plans
• Research my students' cases even more
• Read, read, read!
• Publish a post that sums up my first year of teaching :)

I guess this should keep me busy!

Deceived

I am your voice.

Its interesting how looks and words could be deceiving. Its even more interesting how people can hide beneath a carefully polished surface to make them look more socially accepted or appreciated. Whats not interesting is how a mother can let her child get hurt and go through a painful experience...without finding a reasonable explanation...or a logical reason...or even the right to let such a thing happen...Why: thats the question.

R. I've been so worried about her all year long. I've been trying to find reasons behind the sad look in her eyes..her social withdrawal..her silence..I thought this might be just a 'symptom' which does make sense..but deep inside..I felt something was wrong..really wrong..and I realized that even more today.

It was an ordinary day. I was feeling over-happy to see the kids and all. I saw R sitting just by the door. I waved to her and then she went with the PT to the hospital for some check-ups. When she came back, I gave her a big hug and played with her hair. There were the marks on her cheeks. 3 huge hand prints, full of anger, marked right there like its challenging me. Giving me a wake-up call. Slapping me right onto my face. I was so confused. I immediately started crying, not aware of how to react.

First thing: call the mother. Not picking up. Second: call the aunt. Not picking up. Third: call the police. The director didn't think that it was a good idea. I just took my camera and took pictures of the marks. Never thought that my student's profile will ever save such images of cruelty between the colorful pages that are splashed with paint and beautiful memories.

I was crying all day. I couldn't think right. For a moment, I felt like I had to take her back home with me. I asked the director to handle it from there. I knew I wasn't feeling well.

The story might sound like it ended here, but it left me with questions. Who? Why? Why? Why! This incident marked a new chapter in my career. It created a whole new aspect of teaching. I was never ready. I never thought I should prepare myself for that. But from now on, I do feel like a different teacher. A teacher who should not only teach. A teacher who should be a voice for her silent class.