I’m no worker of grand miracles. In fact, when it comes to schools, declarations of grand miracles accomplished are best left for the propagandists, movie makers, and politicians.
So with that logic, you’d likely derive that nothing miraculous happens in my classroom.
And I’d derive that you’re wrong.
It’s a miracle when the light goes on in a student’s head and she says, after doing a math procedure the wrong way 5 times, “Ohhhhh, nowwww I get ittttt!” (And she does).
It’s a miracle when a student stares at an addition question blankly, oblivious to its meaning, clueless to the steps needed to solve it, and comes in the next day willing to try again.
It’s a miracle when, two days later, he gets the procedure down perfectly and answers all his remaining questions correctly.
It’s a miracle when the student who seemed to know no high-frequency words at the beginning of the year seems to know all of them in February.
It’s a miracle when the student who ran around the room, crawled on the floor, stomped his feet, and screamed for no readily apparent reason and seemingly incessantly, drastically reduces the frequency of these behaviors.
It’s a miracle when a student who entered in December and never called anyone by their name suddenly knows the name of the teacher, the para, and everyone at his table.
It’s a miracle when people walk by the classroom and don’t think, “Oh, there’s a self-contained class,” but rather, “What a diligent, hard-working class.”
And it will be a miracle when people with misguided opinions and loud voices finally realize what matters.