Schools Here & There
I was recently invited to speak about autism at an elementary school in Greenville County. The school dedicated the month of April to autism awareness, and wanted me to speak at their pep rally. It was to be followed by an autism awareness walk.
This elementary school covers the neighborhood that a recent online poll listed as "one of the most dangerous in America".
Yesterday was the day for the presentation. But not until after I attended the annual school cookout at my own boys' school. An elementary school that covers neighborhoods that are some of the most affluent in the county.
I set my GPS to take me to the school for the speech. For whatever reason, it had me mostly going through neighborhoods, especially as I got closer to the school. I drove right through that neighborhood listed as "one of the most dangerous".
I pulled in to the school, noticing that the surroundings were rather industrial. The homes across the street had all sorts of household items outside, as if someone had recently been evicted. It was in stark contrast to my own boys' school that I had just come from.
I sat in the parking lot feeling my eyes well up. How could I go in and talk to this kids about AUTISM, when so many of their lives are affected by situations I can only imagine? How can I go in there dressed in my nice outfit? How can there be such differences, just because of location?
After pulling myself together, I went in. As I approached the school, I saw a banner announcing Autism Awareness Month. In the office, I saw homemade puzzle-piece pins, and custom "We all fit together" t-shirts. I walked down the hall and saw more posters about Autism Awareness, including hand prints or hand-written notes by the students. I saw in the hallway signs about how they are a bully-free school. I felt such pride fill my heart.
The children all filed in, and sat so attentively while I spoke. Usually in a presentation, you gauge the audience to know when to stop. That didn't work. They were so engaged! I finally wrapped things up, and applauded everything they were doing to be aware and accepting of peoples' differences.
Next was the parade. The whole school marched up the road by the school, led by the drum corps from a local high school. Each class had made a wonderful autism awareness banner. The kids were so excited and enthusiastic. They all waved at me as they walked by, with big smiles on their faces. See all the pictures below.
I had to rush back to my boys' for afterschool pickup. But I sat in my car for a moment, absorbing everything that had happened. I felt my eyes tear up again, but this time because I was so moved by what these kids had done.
I was at a school where the teachers probably pray every night that no tragedy befalls a student before they return the next day. Where many of the children have probably seen and experienced things that in my 46 years I never have. Yet there they were. Smiling, paying attention, and enthusiastic about a very marginalized segment of our population. Those with autism.
At our wealthy schools, we focus so much on technology, top scores, and fundraising. At this school on the other side of town, they were focused on PEOPLE.
The discrepancies in our schools has been itching at my heart for a while. I recently saw the movie "Corridor of Shame", a documentary about the poor schools in the I-95 corridor of South Carolina. (A MUST SEE!) I've heard our Governor talking about how much technology some schools, while others have none. I've heard my own son talking about our schools' fundraising for technology efforts, and proposing that we should really be fundraising to help the kids in the poorer schools.
I feel like I'm supposed to be part of the solution, but I don't know how. I know for now, this is an experience that will be in my heart for a long time. And that I will be praying for those students, right along with their teachers.
This elementary school covers the neighborhood that a recent online poll listed as "one of the most dangerous in America".
Yesterday was the day for the presentation. But not until after I attended the annual school cookout at my own boys' school. An elementary school that covers neighborhoods that are some of the most affluent in the county.I set my GPS to take me to the school for the speech. For whatever reason, it had me mostly going through neighborhoods, especially as I got closer to the school. I drove right through that neighborhood listed as "one of the most dangerous".
I pulled in to the school, noticing that the surroundings were rather industrial. The homes across the street had all sorts of household items outside, as if someone had recently been evicted. It was in stark contrast to my own boys' school that I had just come from.
I sat in the parking lot feeling my eyes well up. How could I go in and talk to this kids about AUTISM, when so many of their lives are affected by situations I can only imagine? How can I go in there dressed in my nice outfit? How can there be such differences, just because of location?
After pulling myself together, I went in. As I approached the school, I saw a banner announcing Autism Awareness Month. In the office, I saw homemade puzzle-piece pins, and custom "We all fit together" t-shirts. I walked down the hall and saw more posters about Autism Awareness, including hand prints or hand-written notes by the students. I saw in the hallway signs about how they are a bully-free school. I felt such pride fill my heart.
The children all filed in, and sat so attentively while I spoke. Usually in a presentation, you gauge the audience to know when to stop. That didn't work. They were so engaged! I finally wrapped things up, and applauded everything they were doing to be aware and accepting of peoples' differences.
Next was the parade. The whole school marched up the road by the school, led by the drum corps from a local high school. Each class had made a wonderful autism awareness banner. The kids were so excited and enthusiastic. They all waved at me as they walked by, with big smiles on their faces. See all the pictures below.
I had to rush back to my boys' for afterschool pickup. But I sat in my car for a moment, absorbing everything that had happened. I felt my eyes tear up again, but this time because I was so moved by what these kids had done.
I was at a school where the teachers probably pray every night that no tragedy befalls a student before they return the next day. Where many of the children have probably seen and experienced things that in my 46 years I never have. Yet there they were. Smiling, paying attention, and enthusiastic about a very marginalized segment of our population. Those with autism.
At our wealthy schools, we focus so much on technology, top scores, and fundraising. At this school on the other side of town, they were focused on PEOPLE.
The discrepancies in our schools has been itching at my heart for a while. I recently saw the movie "Corridor of Shame", a documentary about the poor schools in the I-95 corridor of South Carolina. (A MUST SEE!) I've heard our Governor talking about how much technology some schools, while others have none. I've heard my own son talking about our schools' fundraising for technology efforts, and proposing that we should really be fundraising to help the kids in the poorer schools.
I feel like I'm supposed to be part of the solution, but I don't know how. I know for now, this is an experience that will be in my heart for a long time. And that I will be praying for those students, right along with their teachers.
Parade Pictures
posted by Susan | 1:21 PM
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