kids

This letter was written by a friend, Jerry Turning, and posted to his FaceBook Page. It is with his permission that I pass his words of wisdom on. On this day of World Autism Awareness, his words encompass a message needed for all sons.

An open letter to my son on World Autism Awareness Day:

Hi handsome. I’m not quite sure when you will read this, but there is so much I want to teach you, sometimes I get scared that I’ll forget some things or leave something out. So I decided to make a short list of some life lessons I want to teach you. They are in no particular order, but if you use them as a guide when life gets challenging, I think you’ll find your way:

1) You have Autism. That means you are special. You have been given an amazing gift to see the world differently than other people.

2) I spent a little while feeling sorry for you… for me… for us. I was wrong for that. You have made me a better person and you are absolutely perfect exactly how you are.

3) But that doesn’t mean you don’t face challenges. The world is not always as patient and understanding as we would like. I’ll do my best to change the world for you, but in the mean time you will have to learn to cope in this wacky world.

4) I will not allow you to use “Autism” as an excuse or a crutch. You are capable of anything.

5) Be open-minded. Learn to compromise.

6) But stand for something. Defend it ferociously.

7) Respect women. They are a more perfect creature than we are.

8) If you hurt someone… apologize (and mean it)

9) If someone hurts you… forgive (and mean it)

10) If you have to choose between popularity and loyalty… choose loyalty.

11) Trust… but only after they earn it.

12) Find something you love to do… get really good at it… and then convince somebody to pay you to do it.

13) One good friend beats 10,000 so-so friends.

14) Learn the difference ^^^^^

15) Be humble. Just when you think you have it all figured out, Life will teach you how wrong you are.

16) Talk to God.

17) Learn baseball. It is the perfect game.

18) Your Dad is just a man trying to figure it all out… just like you.

19) Your Dad will have your back… always.

20) You are your Dad’s hero.

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Portion of a letter given to me from a student in a partner class after learning I was leaving. Truly humbling to learn you inspire students who are not even in your class.

Almost 2 years ago, due to circumstances in education, family, and life, I made a decision to leave teaching, to walk away from my classroom. Two weeks prior, I had to endure the task of informing my students of my decision. It’s ironic how selfish one can be in a profession that is filled with the rewards of giving. My profession, for the first time in 15 years, started feeling like a job in the weeks leading up. I had lost focus, and with it, lost the love and passion from which I thrived. It had become all about me: the hatred building up inside of me, the decision I had to make, the failure I was going to be in my students eyes. I hated that society didn’t value my profession. I hated that the Federal and State governments tried to label my students as Proficient or Non-proficient. I hated that my performance was going to be judged based upon these tests. I hated that I was a data collecting machine. I hated Summative and Formative testing. I hated those who spoke of pedagogy and rigor. I hated that my district didn’t value technology. I hated that I was reprimanded for the tangle of electrical cords when my request for replacement batteries for laptops was denied. I hated that increasing contributions to my benefits package guaranteed a continued pay cut every year. I hated that a yearly pay cut meant I could not provide for my family and left me no choice. I hated having to make that decision. I hated that I had to look my students in the eye and tell them “I am sorry, I failed you as your teacher.” In my search to excuse my feelings of failure, I had lost sight of the only opinion that truly mattered. In those weeks, I truly did fail my students, but my students never failed me.

On that dreaded day of revelation, about 30 minutes into my tear filled explanation of my decision to leave the classroom, one of my students stopped me. She stated through her own tears, “Why do you keep saying Sorry? You did nothing wrong.” She continued by clarifying in 3 minutes what I had tried to say in 30. She informed all that putting my 3 kids ahead of them as students was nothing to apologize about. She proceeded to lecture the class and myself that even though we only had 2 more weeks together, we should be thankful for the last 4 months of being Mr. Lowe‘s class. With the conviction of a true leader, she requested everyone to not discuss this anymore and make the most of our last 2 weeks together. She ended by telling me that I was more than just a teacher to this class. She believed in everything I said including forever being one of Mr. Lowe’s kids, and my being out of the classroom was not going to change that! There have been plenty of times students had to correct me and there have been plenty of times students have inspired me, but this was just the beginning of the most inspiring 2 weeks I had ever experienced. It is inspiring to see your students put into action everything that you preach about as a teacher especially when you had just dropped a bombshell on them. “Leave your troubles at the door.” “When you enter this classroom, you enter with a promise to always do your best, even when things are at their worst.” “Are you proud of your work?” Did I ever mention these were 4th Graders?

In a true moment of students teaching the teacher, I had become that lost student needing help, disengaged due to outside circumstances. The outpouring of support came, lesson after lesson. Parents and students, past and present, went out of their way to deliver messages of inspiration and encouragement. My students were right, I had nothing to be “Sorry” about. In fact, I was grateful. I loved every minute I spent in the classroom. I loved inspiring. I loved seeing the Ah Ha moment. I loved the laughing. I loved the dancing. I loved when they made fun of me. I loved the raw emotions of crying, fear and anxiety turn to happiness, courage, and hope. I loved seeing a C student get a C+. I loved seeing BFFs form from my choice in seating. I loved the hugs of excitement and sorrow. I loved to see confidence sprout from doubt. I loved saying “I’m proud of You.” I loved getting in trouble because I fought for my students. I loved working with parents. I loved being inspired by students. I loved seeing them present their work. I loved hearing them sing. I loved welcoming them in the morning. I loved being loud in the hallway with them. I loved the high fives. I loved the down lows. I loved the April Fools pranks. I loved the egg toss and the egg drop. I loved having International Day. I loved steps of improvement no matter how small. I loved the first day, last day, and all the days in between. Most of all, I loved my students, each and every one. I would like to end by telling each and every one “I thank you for being a part of my class, my family! You played an important part in making me the teacher I was, and the person I am today! For this, I will always love you!”