Читать книгу The Courageous Classroom - Jed Dearybury - Страница 19

Wherever you are when you get to this portion of the book, take a pause, breathe deeply, and know that the story you are about to read is factual. It is a true account, like all of the stories of my (Jed) students that you will read in this work.

It was about 9:30am on a mid-October morning. Halloween's approaching arrival was looming over the school, and my second graders were borderline chaotic at the mere thought of the impending sugar rush. While I was standing across the room talking with a student about a book, there was a knock at the door. Per the safety protocols for my school, a student peeked out of the rectangular window to let me know who was there and asked if he should open the door. It was the guidance counselor, the principal, and some kid he didn't know. I immediately knew it was a new student. My gut reaction at that moment was, “Nope, don't open the door, our room is full.” I feel very vulnerable telling you all that, but if you are an educator and claim you have never let out a deep sigh about a new student arriving mid-year, you are lying. It is not that we don't love our students, but two-and-half months into the year and most classroom routines are clicking along nicely, and a new face can often send ripples through an otherwise calm pond.

I walked to the door and stepped outside to get the news of my new student. The moment my feet entered the hallway, the kid screamed to the top of her lungs, tears flooded her rosy red cheeks, and she took off running down the hall and darted into the bathroom. Stunned and concerned, I looked at my principal with a very confused look. The guidance counselor hurried after her leaving the principal and me alone.

I closed the door to give us privacy because you know the screams of the new kid had alerted every student in the class, and their wandering eyes and nosey ears were straining to see and hear everything they could! Can you blame them? All of us would have done the same thing.

“Cindy,” I said, “What in the world is going on? What was that all about?”

“Jed, it's so tragic. It's very complicated. I will tell you more after school, but right now we just need to get her into your room to try to have a normal day.”

Thinking back on it … the “normal” for this student was nothing of the normal we all hope for. Coming to my classroom was anything but normal for her.

The guidance counselor convinced her to walk back to the room fairly quickly, but as she approached for the second time, her tears continued to flood her face, her strawberry hair was matted to the side of her face because of the cry induced runny nose, and her body trembled as she neared.

“Kimmie, this is Mr. Dearybury. He is your teacher, and he's the best,” said the guidance counselor. Kimmie wouldn't look at me. She buried her head into her own arms and clung to Paula as if her life depended on it.

The administrative duo started to move her into the room and she stiffened like a board. She was not entering the room. I knelt down to be eye level with her and she screamed again. She became very combative and resisted all movement towards the classroom. She ran away down the hall for the second time.

“She's been abused Jed,” the principal said. “Not physically, but sexually.”

My heart sank. I had two nieces at the time and the thought of anyone hurting them enraged me. Now, right in front of me was the first student I had ever had, that I knew of, who had been molested. My principal proceeded to tell me the whole story as she was told by a caseworker. Kimmie had been sexually abused by her father. She was removed from the home and placed with her grandparents. She was then sexually abused by her grandfather. She had been removed from all contact with either side of the family and placed two counties away in a foster home. This particular morning that she arrived at my classroom was the first morning she had awakened in a new home with complete strangers shuffling her from place to place. No wonder she screamed, cried, and snotted all over herself. No wonder she ran to hide in the bathroom. Wouldn't you?

I stopped my principal from telling me more. I didn't need to know much more. The only question I had for her … “Why in the world would you put her in my class?” I was the only male classroom teacher in the building. Surely she would've felt safer in another space. All the men she had ever known had hurt her and now she had to come see a strange man at school every day? It just didn't make sense to me.

“If anyone can help her, you can, Jed,” my principal told me.

I had more than a few doubts in my ability. I had more than a few concerns about my emotional strength to meet the needs of this moment. I had more than one worry about how the arrival of Kimmie would have a ripple effect across the classroom. I had never been trained for this type of trauma. There were no professional development offerings in my district for these kinds of students. All I had was Google. I took a deep breath. I smiled at Kimmie. And eventually, she walked into my room.

Trauma is real. Our students, whether we know every modicum of the details, come to us having had countless experiences that impact their learning. In order to teach these students, we must be informed of what they bring so that we do not add to their pain, but help. No, we are not their saviors. We are their teachers. But, in order to teach, we have to know about the whole child as best we can.

As I reflect back on my time with Kimmie, I ask myself a million questions.

 Did I help?

 Did I hurt?

 Did I do enough?

 Did I do too much?

 Did I try as hard as I could?

 Did I try too hard?

 Was I over the top?

 Was I under the top?

I am sure that educators reading this will relate to those questions. Our work is a constant circle of “do, reflect, do again, reflect again.” It's the nature of who we are and what drives us to be better each day we enter the school building.

She arrived mid-October without notice, and she left the same way in mid- April. I have not seen or heard from her since. The only thing we were told by the Department of Social Services was that she was in a safe place.

What is a safe place for someone like Kimmie? Certainly the absence of sexual abusers. But, what else does a student like Kimmie need to be safe? The basics for human life of course, but she also needs caregivers, educators, and community members who are trauma informed so that they nurture and love her where she is and help her find her way out of the hellish nightmare she had lived in her seven or so years of life.

Kimmie needed a school with a program, organization, or system that was full of trauma-informed teachers who created courageous classrooms with these three key components.

1 Realizes the widespread impact of trauma and understands potential paths for recovery.

2 Recognizes the signs and symptoms of trauma in clients, families, staff, and others involved with the system.

3 Responds by fully integrating knowledge about trauma into policies, procedures, and practices; and seeks to actively resist re-traumatization. (SAMHSA 2012)

As Kimmie's teacher, I fully realized the likely negative impact of trauma on her learning. I was well versed in the effects of my own personal trauma, but I had no ideas about how to provide her a path to recovery as her teacher. I certainly recognized the symptoms of trauma as she screamed, snotted, and ran away, but what did I know about dealing with those behaviors as a result of the abuse she had suffered and it all being triggered as she stood looking at me, her male teacher? At that moment, I wish I could have responded knowledgeably with a procedure or practice that was research based and relevant to the scene playing out in the hallway. Sadly, I wasn't. Now, some decade later, I have learned a lot, but I often wonder what kind of courageous classroom I could have created had I been trauma informed from day one of my educational certification degree rather than 10 years into it.

Reflect for a moment before reading any further.

 Do you feel adequately trained as an educator for a student like Kimmie?

 Did your college coursework guide you to an understanding of this type of trauma and its effect on a student's ability to learn?

 Has your district provided ongoing professional development and guidance for faculty and staff who will serve as caretakers for students like her?

 Has your school administrator ever offered to send you to a conference or seminar where the focus of the work was educating students of trauma?

 Do you own an educational resource other than this book that has influenced your work with students of trauma?

If you are like me, if you are like millions of other teachers, sadly, the answer – to at least one of these questions – is no. That must change. Our students are becoming more and more affected by trauma each year. According to a 2007 study, students report a traumatic event by the age of 16 (Copeland et al. 2007), traumatic events can include but are not limited to:

 psychological, physical, or sexual abuse;

 community or school violence;

 witnessing or experiencing sexual violence;

 natural disasters;

 terrorism;

 commercial sexual exploitation;

 sudden or violent loss of a loved one;

 deployment, loss, or injury of parent due to military service;

 physical or sexual assault; and

 serious accident or life-threatening illness.

When you read the list, thinking about students past, present, and future, it might feel overwhelming to consider how one might engage in teaching a student who has experienced any of these. It is likely that many students have experienced multiple such events. It is incomprehensible that there isn't more training offered to educators given the overwhelming weight of the task of caring for and teaching a child who has dealt with so much. So where do we begin to become a more trauma-informed educator? You are in the right place.

I told you to imagine it was one of yours. It was one of mine. The fear, the trauma, the abuse that Kimmie faced prior to ever setting foot in my classroom will never leave my brain. Her trauma in many ways became my own. It opened my eyes to the horrible things my students faced on a regular basis and led me to action. Before I could help Kimmie, and students like her, I had to face my own traumatic experiences.