Room 105
“Hi, welcome. I’m Kendayl. This must be Finley.” Kendayl knelt down to get eye level with Finley.
“Hi, Finley. I’m so glad you could come today.” Finley smiled and gave Ms. Kendayl a high-five. I was hooked. This sweet preschool teacher had sold me within 30 seconds of meeting her. She had simply acknowledged and welcomed Matt, myself and Finley. Little effort is needed to extend kindness but it changes everything.
“Come on in.” She beckoned us to her classroom.
Finley had been in the Early Intervention program since she was 8 months old. She was now three and had aged out of that wonderful program that provided therapies and equipment,for little to no cost, for kids like Finley. After Early Intervention, a child with extra challenges goes straight into preschool, no matter what the month, unless it is summer and school is out of session. Finley’s Early Intervention therapists agreed that it would be best for Finley to participate in a blended classroom that was predominantly children without extra challenges and a handful with extra challenges. This would be great motivator, being surrounded by kids walking, talking, eating, sitting all by themselves.
After a couple months in this type of classroom, I found myself teaching the teachers how to care for Finley. I would encourage her classroom aid to get her out of her chair, showing them how to help her play. The longer it went on, the more discouraged I became. I guess I assumed a special needs teacher would know how to help Finley, know how to teach her, know how to challenge her.
Finley was receiving help, care and kindness, which I was grateful for, but I began to worry that Finley’s schooling would consist of me showing up once a week to ensure she received challenge, motivation and encouragement to grow. I did not want a glorified, free babysitter. I wanted Finley to be with adults who knew and understood what she was capable of and help grow and develop her curiosity and hunger for life. Finley is a cutie pie in a wheel chair who can’t talk and who needs help doing everything, but she is so much more. She is smart and hilarious and bright and sharp and determined and precious and, just like every human, needs to be challenged. As the weeks wore on, I felt disappointment growing and a sense of dread of more and more added to my plate.
Around that time I got some helpful information that the school we were zoned for, and that our big three kids went to, had a wonderful small classroom preschool program for kids like Finley. It was not a blended classroom (which is why Finley didn’t go to our zoned school in the first place) but that it may be worth meeting the teacher and asking her questions and thoughts on the benefit of Finley being a small classroom.
“Excuse the mess, we are packing up for the summer.” Kendayl explained.
“No problem, we are just so glad this worked out to meet. Thank you for making the time for us.”
Despite the end of year packing, there were remnants of thoughtful and playful decor. The florescent lights were covered in billowing blue paper to immitate clouds, there was a swing set up and little tables with tiny chairs in a couple places.
I only remember bits and pieces of our conversation that day, but I do vividly remember feeling welcomed and wanted and appreciated and encouraged. I remember meeting a couple of the classroom aids and how they took time to play and talk with Finley. I remember one sweet lady spinning an umbrella over and over for Finley while she giggled and would say “ma” (more) as soon as the umbrella began to slow down. I remember Kendayl listening to our story, asking thoughtful questions and offering insightful suggestions.
“Finley is so smart! She doesn’t miss a thing.” Kendayl observed.
“No she doesn’t. She is capable of so much.” I agreed.
Just hearing those words come out of Kendayl’s mouth, I knew Kendayl saw past the wheelchair. She saw past the leg braces and straps and arm braces and belly binder. She saw past the lack of vocabulary and past the inability of body movement. Kendayl saw the ability, the potential, the bright sparkle of curiosity within Finley. Finley did not need kind adults to help her, she needed kind adults who would push and challenge her. In that moment, I knew Kendayl saw what we see in Finley.
“We would love to have Finley with us next year. She is such a delight.” Kendayl said as we left.
“I know my wife,” Matt said, “and as long as we can get approval from the district to mover her, Finley will be coming here in the fall.”
I laughed, “yes she will.” I hugged Kendayl and thanked her for her kindness. We left room 105 that day with a lighter step and lighter hearts. We knew that God was providing yet again just what Finley needed, right when she needed it.
Kendayl and her team served Finley for the next two years. I cannot tell you how pivotal those two years were. Kendayl has truly been a bright light for us on this ever changing, special needs journey. She was consistently kind and warm. She was encouraging and loving. She put in the long hours of paperwork and countless meetings, not just for Finley, but for every single preschooler that came through her doors. She sent home gifts and cards for birthdays, Christmas, Spring break, Summer break. She knew and understood Finley as well as we did by the end of those two years.
Ms. Kendayl will always be a hero to our family. She is a champion for many who have little to no voice, she perseveres in the face of stacks and stacks of paperwork each child in her classroom requires for their IEP (Individualized Education Program)… She has hard days and I’m sure she has days when she wants to give up. Her sweet classes are made of kids who struggle to breathe, eat, walk, stand, sit, talk, behave, feel, touch and process. Kendayl and her team (and so many special needs teachers) are fully committed to serving the vulnerable, the needy, the lost. If you know a special needs teacher or a special needs classroom aid, thank them for what they do. Tell them what they do matters deeply. Tell them you don’t understand all that they do but you know it is powerful and life changing.
Kendayl, what you do matters deeply. We don’t fully understand all that you face in a given school day but we know it is so so much. We know it makes a difference and we know you are a total hero. Your courage and strength have given so many families hope, ours included. Blessings upon blessings to you and yours.
With big love and deep respect,
Heather
