Service Learning Journal |
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My plan was never to be a regular, full-time classroom teacher. Ive always wanted to teach special workshops and mini-courses in theatre and dance. Im good for that sort of thing two-week workshops and such. Ive done a great deal of it, mostly in professional theatres, community groups and private dance schools. Ive done longer terms occasionally, the longest being three years at Mississippi Creative Arts Magnet Grade School in St. Paul. I will forever remember two small happy boys at the Mississippi grade school who were autistic. The boys were main-streamed into my dance/physical education class. Twice a week the two adorable and nearly twin first-graders would bounce into the studio with their classmates, but instead of taking part in the group activities, the boys would sit and focus on the mirrors in the room. Mississippi school was very lucky to have a big dance studio, complete with a dance floor, a great sound system, and a piano. Best of all, the facility had two fully mirrored walls. Determined to help preserve the quality of the studio, I rarely allowed students to play with the equipment, and absolutely forbid any child to touch the mirrors. I privately objected to what I saw as the non-involvement of these two students. What bothered me most was that the boys would put their hands all over my nice clean mirrors! I felt that the two were a disruption to the orderly gym classes I administered, and was afraid they set a bad example for the other first graders. The fact that the two kids were autistic was a mystery to me, so I never really said anything to them or to the aide who regularly accompanied them to class. I discussed the matter with other teachers who commiserated with me and many went on to express their dislike of the idea of mainstreaming. Satisfied that I was being tolerant, not harsh, I ignored the problem and allowed the two autistic students to sit and pat on my sparkling clean mirrors and ignore my exhaustively prepared lessons and games. One morning, months into the school year, I was dancing alone in the studio, waiting for my next class to come in. I looked toward the door and noticed the two beaming boys in the hallway with their aide holding them back. I told her it was okay if they wanted to visit and the kids tore into the room and sat where they always sat during class time - on the floor in front of the mirrors. But this time it was different. They weren't moving or beating on the wall. They were just sitting there smiling at each other and at me though the mirror. The teaching aide explained to me that they loved the mirrors, and that she has noticed that they stay engaged during the entire class. I was astonished! All that time, I thought the pair was ignoring the class. She told me that they get such a joy from the sounds of the music and the movement of the other children, that dance class has become their favorite thing! I played some music and the boys began to pat on the mirrors and dance as they watched me dance. I began to see what they were seeing in the magic of the mirror. We had a great time that morning, and then I had to move on to my next class. As they left, I confessed my ignorance of the situation and the teaching aide and I agreed to have the two little boys come into the studio alone a few times so that we could all get acquainted. This was a deeply humbling experience. It had never occurred to me that those boys were learning and experiencing and growing. I understood after that day that I was teaching children not dance. I realized that the other students never played with the mirrors, even though the autistic boys did. They were not bothered or disturbed in the least about it. They understood what I hadnt that different learners, learn differently. They accepted the idea that the rules would be broken to accommodate students in appropriate situations. After I began to appreciate the learning that was taking place in my own classroom, I was able to begin teaching. The entire class learned to play mirror games and much discussion about mirrors came out of those classes. Eventually I got both of those boys to actually join in on some dancing along with the students! It was a triumph, and the other children in the class commented on it! The boys would rush to the mirrors to see themselves dance! Now, that is the joy of dancing! Learning such a valuable lesson from two little 7 year olds was indeed a remarkable joy for a young teacher! It was an experience that I will hold on to forever.
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