Teachers Change Lives

I’m pretty critical of the education system. I’m pretty critical about everything actually, I’m just that kind of person. Despite this, I look back at my experiences in school very fondly. I am able to do this because I was fortunate enough to have so many wonderful teachers who shaped my life in different ways. This post is for them, but it is also for all the teachers out there, who work hard every day because they care about the children they work with.

Being a blind child meant that the presence of adults in my life was even greater than it is for most non-disabled children. I was only able to keep up with my peers because there was a team of people working behind the scenes to make it happen. Sometimes I couldn’t keep up, not because I was let down by my teachers but because the trajectory of my life was always going to be different. And so then those same teachers stepped into comfort and reassure me that yes, I might not do things quite the same way, but no, this did not mean I was a failure.

My teachers worked to bring experiences to me, experiences that other children might have naturally, but that I didn’t. In my mobility lessons in primary school where I learned to use a white cane, my mobility teacher took me to book shops, the supermarket and the park. These might seem like ordinary places and they are, but he encouraged me to explore my environment and ask questions. We visited the railway museum and the train station, we navigated escalators and steps, examined lamp posts and fences, and crossed street after street. He introduced me to aspects of the world that other children could see from a distance, but that I needed to live and experience first-hand in order to truly understand.

My TVI, teacher of the visually impaired, likewise worked hard to ensure that I had access not only to a good education, but to experiences. She organised for the blind children in York to spend time together on a regular basis, helping create a sense of community even if we happened to be the only blind child in our school. She arranged for me to write to a blind penpal, recognising that I needed this connection.

But both of these teachers did something else. They saw the ways in which I was struggling as well as succeeding. I recently read through my primary school reports and their understanding of me is something that truly stands out. I was deeply unhappy and struggling with self esteem issues. I hadn’t come to terms with the reality of my future and although I was doing well academically, my social skills were a disaster. They never judged me for this, instead they worked to ensure I had the best experience I possibly could, and when it became apparent that I needed a change of school, they supported this and made the transition as smoothe as possible.

At the school for the blind I was also supported by a wonderful group of teachers. I spent endless, very happy hours in the library, pulling books from the shelves and probably being far louder than I should have been. I realise now how often I pestered the librarian over break and lunchtime, giving her few opportunities for a moment of peace and quiet. But always she found new books for me and encouraged my love of reading.

This love of reading and writing was also encouraged by one of my English teachers in particular, who happened to be my form tutor for two years. I wasn’t the best student, in fact there was a period of time where I was constantly in trouble, refusing to do homework and not seeming to care as the number of conduct marks I received steadily grew. Every week it seemed like I was in detention. Instead of being angry, she would assign me creative writing work, making sure those lonely hours after school were a little better than they otherwise might have been. I know some people might frown at this decision, surely detention should be a punishment? But her actions helped me realise that there were lots of people on my side, and the work she gave me enabled me to work on a skill which I love and use every day.

My teachers had high expectations of me, but they also understood that I was a teenager. They gave me challenging work and supported me and even if I didn’t always show it, I respected them a lot. I think about my love of academia and my desire to learn and I’m not sure whether I would have believed that higher education was really possible for me had they not shown me as much encouragement as they did.

They also made me feel safe. Being a teenager is awful in so many ways. You’re dealing with the complexity of friendships, maybe dating, disagreeing with your parents and somehow trying to get an education and figure out what your future will hold. It’s a lot for anyone. Add blindness to that and you have even more to deal with. Often my teachers were the people I turned to when I needed someone to listen. I had grown to hate cane travel, but my teacher at the school for the blind was so kind and encouraging. Even when I hated her class, I’d still go because I knew I could talk to her and she would listen and understand. I was so lucky to have all these people around me, doing as much as they could to support me at this time.

Somehow I’m sitting at my computer, a month away from starting a master’s degree. It’s almost unbelievable that the difficult, loud 13-year-old who was in and out of detention was once me. But she was, and thankfully there were a lot of people who believed in her.