“Mom, you know how Jake always seems to be bouncing off the walls at school and getting into trouble?” My 9-year-old son, Leo, paused his dinner and looked at me with earnest eyes.
“Yes, sweetheart, but remember—”
“I know, Mom,” he interjected with a sigh. “That’s not what I’m getting at.”
“Alright then, what’s on your mind?”
“I just wanted to say that Ms. Jones has this incredible way with Jake. She doesn’t seem to get annoyed with him like some of the other teachers do. She’s really kind to him and often asks him for help. Plus, I’ve noticed he does so much better in her class than in any others. I think it’s because she treats him so well.”
At that moment, I felt a wave of emotion wash over me; I had to discreetly wipe my eyes.
I understand Jake’s struggles all too well. I can empathize with his mother’s concerns, the nagging fear that teachers judge her and think she should do more, as if her child’s behavior reflects her own shortcomings as a parent. I know the challenges of having a child who faces difficulties in school and the immense relief that comes when a teacher knows how to reach that child.
From the very start of his preschool days, my son Max had a tough time adapting to the structure of school. Even at two years old, we received notes home informing us that he “refused” to stay seated during story time or disrupted nap time with his chatter. We talked to him about listening to his teachers and maintained a consistent routine at home to help him adjust. And yet, the notes kept coming.
Elementary school was no different. On just the second day of kindergarten, I received my first note. I felt deflated and overwhelmed, convinced that I was failing as a mother. Max’s behavior was clearly different from his peers, leading me to believe I must be doing something wrong. I often found myself frustrated with him over the disciplinary notes and disappointing parent-teacher meetings, harboring the conviction that I had somehow let him down.
Years later, we learned that Max has ADHD. After reading extensively on the subject, I discovered that no one had failed him. He was simply wired differently. When he learns, he needs to move around, make noise, and express himself. He fidgets, taps, and sometimes loses focus on his assigned tasks.
That brilliant mind of his is always buzzing with creativity, but much of the time, it’s unrelated to what he’s supposed to be concentrating on. He doesn’t fit the conventional mold that many educators expect. Parenting him can be challenging, and teaching him can certainly be tough.
So, when a teacher comes along who truly understands my child? It fills my heart with gratitude.
We’ve been fortunate to have many supportive teachers in Max’s life, but a few standout educators have gone above and beyond to show him acceptance and love. Rather than trying to force him into a one-size-fits-all approach, they followed his lead. Instead of viewing his inattentiveness as a problem to be solved, they recognized it as a sign of his independent creativity and provided him with outlets to explore that.
Instead of insisting he complete mundane written tasks he already knew the answers to but struggled to focus on, they allowed him to explore science magazines in a cozy reading corner or to draw in a sketchbook. Rather than reprimanding him repeatedly, they highlighted his positive qualities—his unique ideas, his expertise in astronomy, and his artistic talent—doing so in front of his classmates. This acknowledgment helped normalize his quirks among his peers.
This is precisely what Leo was referring to when he mentioned Jake during dinner. It’s clear to me when a teacher possesses that amazing ability to connect with “difficult” students, so I was pleasantly surprised that my son noticed it too.
I immediately thought of Ms. Jones. Max often spoke highly of her, saying she was one of his favorites. She always made him feel smart and never made him feel like a burden, unlike some teachers who inadvertently made him feel that way.
I smiled at Leo. “It sounds like Ms. Jones has that special touch for recognizing kids with learning differences—”
“No, Mom,” he cut in. “She’s like that with everyone. She makes all the kids feel valued. Everyone loves her. She makes class fun but still holds us accountable. And on the playground, she plays with us like she’s one of us. She’s the only teacher who runs around with us.”
That may very well be the case. Perhaps these remarkable educators genuinely care for all children, and that’s why they excel with those who face learning challenges. They see each child as deserving of an education that respects their individual learning styles, worthy of attention, acceptance, and love.
Regardless, these teachers profoundly impact the lives of my son and other children like him. They send a message that they are valued in a world where they often feel like they don’t belong.
Thank you to Ms. Jones and all the educators who make a difference in the lives of children like Max, helping them feel loved and welcomed in their classrooms.
To all the Ms. Joneses out there, we are eternally grateful to you.