I’ve Got This!

This story is an edited version of an essay I wrote over the summer for work about the things I struggled with during the past school year.

I started working at a private school for autistic students in April of 2023. I started as a part-time driver and began to work in the classrooms as a substitute paraeducator during the 2023 summer program. I loved the job from the beginning, and by the fall semester of the 2023–24 school year, I knew I wanted to be a teacher.

I really struggled last year. Shifting from part-time driver to full-time paraeducator, I expected a learning curve. I knew the school year would differ from summer, and by then, I knew I wanted to teach. I expressed this and was placed in a classroom where the teacher was a ‘great one to learn from.’ At that time, teachers did not have to be certified, as the school was not accredited.

A week after I was placed in the classroom with the ‘great to learn from’ teacher, I was asked to work one-on-one with a non-verbal middle-grader. I was told I would work directly with the Curriculum Specialist to plan the students’ lessons. I was nervous, but felt that with learning and experience, I’d do fine.

Things didn’t go as expected. The Curriculum Specialist worked more with the teacher, who then dictated what I would do with the student. At the same time, I tried to bring in different activities to connect with the student based on the information I was given. What was expected of me kept changing. I was willing to keep shifting perspectives, but I was becoming confused about those expectations and less confident in myself.

I couldn’t tell if the goal was to teach my student or keep the child “out of the teacher’s hair.” Things finally smoothed out, though, and the student and I began to “click.” We made headway in communication and the student’s focus time increased as I observed what interested them and adjusted accordingly.

Then, everything changed again.

I was asked to lead a class of non-verbal middle-graders. I accepted without asking the right questions. I had no idea what those questions were. Things did not go well. I lost my perspective, my confidence, and my cool. Many “decisions” I made weren’t decisions, but actions taken in distress. I still didn’t know what questions to ask, even when provided with the opportunity.

The little class didn’t last long — less than two months. When one student was withdrawn from the school, the total number of students in the class had dropped to two. The class was dissolved just before the winter holiday break.

When it was all over, I refused to allow myself to quit.

Believe me, I considered it.

I went into a new classroom where I learned techniques for teaching my two students from experienced paraeducators and teachers. As I learned and practiced what I learned, I began to see what I could have done differently before. I worked with the other students, who were verbal and who also happened to be learning more academics. I loved leading the English Language Arts groups.

By the end of the year, we learned about something that helped calm the student I had been working with for most of the year. That insight and the work I did to help the teacher with end-of-the-year paperwork made me realize some questions I should have asked in the first place. I still don’t know all the questions, but I have a few.

I ended the year with a little bit of my confidence rebuilt, but not before embarrassing myself.

This summer I’ve been learning more about education and autism. I’ve reflected on why I behaved so unprofessionally and made a plan for self-improvement. I will stop focusing on my deficits and do for myself what I want to do with the students — assume competency.

Realizing that my being competent doesn’t mean I already know what to do or how to do it is BIG.

Competency means I find the right questions, and if I can’t, I have someone help me. Remembering that it’s not about me is the first step, and something I need to remind myself about until it’s ingrained.

I hadn’t planned to work the summer program this year, but about a week in, I changed my mind. I worked virtually one-on-one with one of our younger nonverbal Life Skills students for whom it was difficult to find a classroom.

The child’s vocal stims could be loud and distracting for some of the other students. Over the course of a few weeks, the student and I worked together to diminish certain behaviors that resulted from overstimulation from about one every hour or so to one to three every few days, with almost two weeks of no behaviors.

The last week was a little more challenging, mainly because the other children in the classroom were a little tired and restless. Trying new tactics to interact positively with the student paid off in fewer disruptive behaviors and the student having more trust in the adults.

This past year has been quite a humbling experience. I didn’t go into it thinking I knew everything, but I had no idea how much I didn’t know. This reflection on my time at the school has shown me that I had lost my professionalism. I hadn’t realized that I had done so.

It took me a bit of thought to conclude that it had happened when I was a behavioral health technician working in peer support with the seriously mentally ill and the homeless. Trudging down dry riverbanks to meet folks under the bridge or sitting on sidewalks talking to clients wasn’t conducive to wearing business clothing nor professional language.

I worked in that job for five years. I hadn’t even realized that I had taken off the professional mask that I wore for the many years I was an office manager. I didn’t know I took it off, so I forgot to put it back on again. That mask is not the kind which would hide the real me; rather, it was one that kept the customer service smile on my face even when I talked on the phone. I’d like to put that smile right back on my face. I’m working on it.

School doesn’t officially start until the first week of August, so I’ve got a little time. We went into training mode at the beginning of this week. I think I’m doing okay. When the heart wavers because of embarrassment for the fact that just about all my coworkers know about my mistakes, fear that I’m not particularly liked on the job, and frustration with myself because that even matters to me, I remind myself that I’m going to be okay.

I’ve got a big heart, a lot of love, some pretty good academic knowledge, and the drive to take that and turn it all into a Teaching Certificate in Special Education.

When I start to get a little bit down on myself because I wasn’t selected to teach at the school after the interview, I just need to remind myself that it’s not over. I just need a little more experience while I work on my courses. I can just keep on loving and helping these kids, and one day, I’ll be a teacher.

I’ve got this!