I nervously stepped before the double doors of the elementary school where I was to meet the first vision teacher I was scheduled to shadow. I greeted Ms. Tucker (names of students and teachers in this book have been changed), my guide and future co-worker, timidly when she arrived. A short and stout woman in her early to mid-50s, her way of dress seemed to mirror her mood that way, sullen and sloven. She did not seem very eager to have me as her shadow. Perhaps it was because she knew about my lack of prior teaching experience, or maybe her somber mood had nothing to do with me. Nevertheless, I was determined to not let her disposition dampen my excitement of starting my first day of teaching. I also looked forward to shadowing the other vision teachers I would work with throughout what I hoped would be my long career in this position…
I can say that my first foray into teaching really transformed my perception of what it means to be an educator. Traditional teachers are often pictured as standing before a group of 20 or more students in a classroom. They are usually expected to ensure the safety, engagement, and appropriate behavior of all their pupils. They are pictured as spending countless hours planning lessons, grading papers, and calling parents. They typically collaborate with a group of teachers who teach similar subjects or grade levels…
Perhaps the description above adequately describes the majority of teachers. However, I was about to find out that not all educators are the same, but they are still such nonetheless. As a teacher of visually impaired students, I typically worked with no more than two students at a time, with most of my time spent working with students on an individual basis. While I did work with some of my students in the classroom setting, I was mainly focused on supporting my student during the duration of the class or session. I also did not have my own classroom; instead, I shared a cramped office with some of my fellow vision teachers. My base office was not even located in the same building as most of the students on my caseload. In fact, on an average school week, I used my personal vehicle to travel to five or six different schools to work with my kids. (We did receive a very small stipend for gas, but it did little to cover the wear and tear I put on my car for driving all over the district to work with my pupils.) Because I mainly offered support to my students both inside the classroom and in small group or one-on-one sessions, I didn’t really have to worry about maintaining grades or writing lesson plans until later in my teaching career, and I did not have too many parents to call due to our relatively small caseloads. Because our department of teachers worked with a relatively small group of students throughout the district and our schedules varied so greatly, we did not meet very often as a whole department.
What was equally unforgettable were the individual stories of the students I worked with over those years. There was Juan, a seven-year-old student who was an English Language Learner (ELL). He had completely lost vision in his left eye at birth and had a degenerative condition in his other eye. He was expected to be totally blind by the age of nine. Despite his unfortunate predicament, his exuberant disposition was contagious. Even if I were having a rough day, working with him often brought up my spirit. Due to his impending vision loss, my role was to teach him how to read Braille to supplement the print that he was reading in class. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how much it would take to learn how to read in both a new language and a new format–and using the unfamiliar sense of touch at that! Despite the obvious pressure (and the fact that I was learning how to read Braille myself in my teaching program), we had a lot of fun learning together.
Then there was Daniel, an elementary student who helped me to truly understand the definition of legal blindness. He was a vibrant, active young man who loved sports, especially professional wrestling. While he was considered legally blind, he was able to read print and see distances with the use of magnifiers. His vision was about as poor as mine without my contact lenses–only his specific visual impairment could not be improved with corrective lenses. He did struggle a bit with focus and motivation, so I had to get creative in working with him. I remember helping him grasp the concept of integers by comparing them to the stamina of his favorite video game WWE characters! It was rather rewarding seeing him work on the entire worksheet with glee after that!
Then there was the peculiar case of Travis, an honors high school student who randomly started losing his vision a couple years into high school. He literally went from normal vision to being nearly totally blind within a year. His parents, teachers, and doctors were baffled by his deteriorating condition. Nevertheless, we all rallied together to support him, from providing him audiobooks and class support to introducing him to Braille. To this day, I am in awe of Travis’ resilience in such an unimaginable predicament…
I can definitely say at this stage of my career that I absolutely loved my job and enjoyed going to work almost every single day. My job was an escape from my personal life and my loneliness and despair at the time. Despite being a grown woman in my mid-20s, I was still living with my parents, although I had the financial means to buy or rent my own home. I was very much single, having never gone on a date or had any serious relationships with anyone of the opposite sex, platonic or otherwise. Much of this had to do with the fact that I was still a practicing Jehovah’s Witness, and I continued to live by a very strict moral code. Much of my time outside of work was consumed by my activities with this religion, so I had very little time to get to know myself as an individual. Therefore, my work as an educator provided a means of escape to my humdrum, lonely existence.
My start in education in such a unique field resulted in my seeing peaks in my career very early. Ms. Jones, the teacher who had interviewed me for my job, had retired from teaching. She also served as the department chair for our area, so her departure created a huge void that no one remaining wished to fill. I was convinced to take over her role at the conclusion of my first year of teaching. To someone on the outside looking in, it must have been wild to see a second year teacher become a department chair, but somehow at my relatively young age, I knew what I was getting myself into. I knew that I did not gain this position out of any merit or accomplishments on my part–I got the role because no one else wanted to do it.
For a while, the arrangement worked out well. As the youngest and only Black teacher of that department, I went with the flow and did a lot of going along to get along. I tried to be the neutral and peaceful force in teacher and personnel conflict, even in the face of serious infractions on the part of a teacher or two in the department. I was the one contacted and cc’d in emails when a serious issue occurred on the part of one of our students. I did a lot of traveling several times a week to handle department-related matters all around the county. Nevertheless, I enjoyed every moment of it and was very happy with my job.
The icing on the cake was that my provisional license gave me five years to complete my certification, so job security was not an issue for me, and I felt good about being able to take my time in my vision teacher preparation courses. In addition, my district was able to regain their accreditation after a year, so I did not have to worry about the legitimacy of my teaching experience. From my rose-colored glasses, life was great, and I was living my dream—until I wasn’t…