Dear Teacher,
Dear teacher,
My name is autism. I sit in the front row. You often look past me as you focus on students further in the background. Unless of course I start to stim. You tell me, “Stop fidgeting!” and I never understand, because I don’t know when I’m doing it. But I do know that you make me feel frightened and embarrassed. Please stop speaking harshly to me. I would like to learn.
My name is poverty. I sit in the back and mind my own business. I’m often cold and look for a seat near the weird heating contraption. It makes strange noises and it’s hard to hear you when it’s on, but it warms me up after a night of cold. You often say “Pay attention!” but until your words are more distracting than the pangs in my tummy, I can’t.
My name is divorced. My mom and dad don’t live together anymore. I know you catch me gazing out the window from time to time and when I lay my head on the desk, you look at me and say “Are you sick? Wake up!” I always want to tell you that divorce is not a disease but the nights I don’t get to sleep and my normal house I get scared and stay up all night. I’m really tired and want you to be more compassionate.
My name is abused. I know I told you I tripped on the way to school and hit my face on the concrete and you believed me. Why did you believe me? Shouldn’t you know better? Aren’t you an adult that knows kids shouldn’t come to school with black eyes?
My name is anxiety. I do a really good job at pretending I’m fine. You think I’m very dedicated to my work and you often praise me in front of the other students. I’m actually too afraid to not let you know I’m struggling. It takes every ounce of my energy just to be here. Please stop expecting so much from me.
My name is dyslexia. I’m very smart but you never see that. You mark up my papers in red and hand them out in such a way that all the other kids can see that I failed. I wish you taught me the way I needed to be taught instead of the way you wanted me to learn.
My name is PTSD. I know I’ve only been in your class for 3 weeks, but this is my fourth school I’ve attended this year. All I want is friends and to feel like I fit in here. Please stop treating me like I’m a burden to you. I’m hurt, lonely and scared and that comes out in different ways. Please see beyond my behavior and see me.
Of course we all have real names, but I’m not sure you know what they are. Can you see us? Like really see us? If so, please start using our real names and identifying us as human beings and not as children with a behavior you don’t find appropriate.
We didn’t get to choose you as a teacher. We are placed here each day wanting to learn. We want to learn more than reading, writing, math and history. We want to learn that adults say they're sorry when they mess up. We want to learn that everyone makes mistakes. We want to learn that our value is not in what we do but in who we are. We want to learn that even in a world where there are dangers around every corner, that your classroom is a safe place. We want to learn that we can depend on each other and that we can depend on you.
Can you please teach us?
