The Special One

It never fails. My heart just cringes when I get such a phone call. Someone has a child with special needs, who has never received any intervention. Therefore they wonder if I could spend some time to see their child and consult with me.

When it happens, I always ask God, “Who am I? Why me?” I am just a teacher. Who happens to understand what those children have gone through – because I think I have special needs as well.

Growing up, I could feel resentment from my teachers. I still remember their cynical and sarcastic remarks. I still carry with me the scars of their verbal abuse. I still live with the loneliness of having nobody who understood me, including my own mother.

Looking back, I did not blame them entirely. When you teach in the middle of the jungle with extra-limited resources (and educational background in pedagogy), teaching, handling a girl like me must have been a nightmare. Nothing could have prepared you for such a tornado who leaves behind the trails of debris in any room I enter.

You see, I have problem sitting down for extended periods. I knock things off. I run into objects when I walk. I have problem keeping my mouth shut or keeping my hands to myself when I deem something as very wrong. I have a hard time keeping my belongings organized – let alone my thoughts. My brain is always faster than my body.

I was blessed with my Papa. He grew up in a small town by the Indian Ocean. He taught me to navigate through the woods. He taught me to navigate at the sea. He taught me science by actually letting me touch and experience the wonders of God’s creation. If I have such a loving and understanding Papa, how much more loving and understanding is my

Heavenly Father?   

I believe that my sweet memories with him has shaped me to become the teacher that I am today. I never fit into the teachers’ molds. I let my students get up from their seat and move around the classroom. I integrate activities such as cooking and observing around school perimeter into my lesson plans. I took my students to the field to watch the clouds so they could write sentences, guided by their experience as well as imagination. I took my students to the parking lot so they predict the number of tires in such a square meters. My special needs enable me teach beyond the four walls of my classroom.

I keep telling those parents that I only share my experience. I am sure there are respected members of the society who are truly experts on special education. They have conducted researches, while I have no slightest idea how to compose an actual research proposal, let alone my dissertation.

However, I believe that God has chosen me to return to Indonesia in order to serve those families. It is humbling to be reminded that I was created special so I can have a heart for special children. My experience, my graduate degree, are all actually affirmations that I have nothing to boast.

I pray that those children always remind me of how special each individual is in God’s eyes. I pray that their curiosity only challenges me to present the universe into their mode of operation. I pray that the stories of their lives only enriches me. I pray that the daily challenges only whip me to my knees and give it all back to God.

I am the Lord’s servant. May your word to me be fulfilled

In memoriam: Tri Pudjohadi (1946-2014)