Little Buddha

I've wanted to post on this for a while, but I've kept musing on it until I could figure out what my actual thoughts are.

I've been working as a Casual Relief Teacher in a Special School for the past term (as well as another mainstream highschool), and my experience there has been invaluable.

I walked in on my first day as green as it gets, nervous about the kind of student I would be working with (I've heard many stories from my wife who is a Speech Pathologist working in education and my brother who is an integration aide in a Specialist School - one step lower functioning than my school) and wondering about my purpose in such a place. I quickly came to realise in my first hour that children with autism are not at all scary (at least the ones I am working with), even when they are throwing things around the room in a tantrum, picking their nose until it bleeds, smacking themselves in the face, squeezing the crap out of another autistic child (pinching) or even screeching at you at the loudest decibel level they can muster.
I also quickly cam to realise that children with special needs can be as, if not more, adorable than 'normal' children. Each child has such a unique personality.

On my second day there, I met the child that has been my favourite (even though we're not supposed to have fovourites - it's impossible not to) ever since. I love this kid - he is absolutely adorable.

Let me paint you a picture:
A rotund Asian boy squats in his chair, peering down at a puzzle beneath his eyes. His eyes are a little too slanted, and upon further inspection I can see that he has actually fallen asleep again (succumbing to his narcoleptic condition). I walk over to him and kneel beside him.
"Wake up, Wei Yin!" I whisper with a smile, gently nudging him behind his left shoulder. "Look! Let's do your puzzle!"
His eyes open gradually, and without a smile he looks at me in acknowledgement. I hand him a piece from his childrens' puzzle.
"Where does this one go?"
He scrutinizes the puzzle board, and can't quite decide on the right spot for the truck-shaped puzzle piece he now has in his hand. He drops the puzzle piece on the board, reaches over to me and forcibly places my hand over the puzzle piece.
He looks at me. I know what he's trying to do, but I play dumb - I want him to do it. He picks up my hand and drops it on the piece again. I pick it up and put it back in his chubby, olive fingers.
"Come on, Wei Yin. You're clever, I know you can do this."
He grips the piece, looks at the board and spots the right slot in less than a second, his hand pushing towards it without a thought. He struggles with the exact positioning for a moment and then slides the piece cleanly in.
I give him a huge grin.
"You. Are. Wonderful! Well done Wei Yin!!!"
My joy spills out into my arms and give his shoulders a congratulatory squeeze as my face and words convey my pleasure in his work.
His face lights up. Where once there was a look of casual contentment, now there blooms a huge smile. His huge chubby smile beams up at me, and then he grabs my head either side with both of his hands. He pulls my head closer and closer to his own, until they are touching, and he holds me there, beaming with joy, looking at my eyes.
For the rest of the day, we were best of pals. He continually amazed me with how smart he is. He can't talk, he manages to fall asleep while walking around a basketball court and he tries to get everyone else to do everything for him, but knows his way around Windows XP as well as anyone I've ever known. He can spell. He can write. He listens and understands everything you say to him. And he still remembers who I am whenever we see him in the playground.

This kid is one of the most special kids I've ever has the pleasure of teaching, and this school has so many just as special kids who are special in their own completely unique ways. I hope I can have the opportunity to encourage kids like that all the way through my life.

I think this is the primary reason why I teach. I love to make people feel good about themselves. I love it. And I seem to be able to do it best with kids. I want people to be able to feel like they can do things, and that their worth is immeasurable. I think I've just defined my life's mission statement.