Changing Contexts: Emotional Farewells and Starting SpEd

Next year, I am moving on from my current teacher context to work at a special education school. I’ll be with the 15 to 21-year-olds, who are transitioning from school to their young adult lives, potentially as part of the workforce or day programs depending on their pathway/profile. It’s interesting to reflect on the haerenga that led me here. In Neurodiversity: Learning from Special Ed Kids, I actually wrote about my experiences when I first started teacher aiding in 2016.

A New Context

I’m still so on board with the kaupapa of revitalising te reo Māori, and I’m definitely not turning my back on it. Although in some sense it feels like betrayal, when I think about it more, I remind myself that there’s no way I’m not going to be incorporating te reo Māori me ōna tikanga into my practice: I just need to be more intentional about it. I’ll still be working with ākonga Māori, and they deserve access their reo just as any mainstream student does. Working with rangatahi/tamariki whaikaha* (“disabled/SpEd” teens and children) is another area I am passionate about. I felt this way even before I myself was diagnosed as autistic at aged 20 – before I even started to actively learn te reo Māori, actually. I’m confident that I have something to offer these kids, however daunting it is to jump into something totally different.

*Whaikaha is the term used to describe disability, but it literally translates to pursuing strength, determination to achieve, or be able. Look at us Pākehā with our deficit-lensed framing of disability and neurodiversity – even the words we use to describe this community reflect centuries of negative perceptions, disenfranchisement and discrimination.

Saying Goodbye

At times, it’s been a hard space to be, but I’ve learned heaps and I wouldn’t change it. I’ve loved the connections I have made and the people that I’ve met. My students are an awesome bunch – quirky, clever, …ever so slightly maddening. Even though there have been some struggles at times, and I have some fun and quirky colleagues. For these reasons it was really hard to say goodbye. My last day was on Thursday, and goddamn it was emotional.

I was showered with cards and thoughtful gifts, lovely emails and in-person thank yous. There was a staff morning tea for us leavers, and my principal and colleague (read: work bestie) talked about my time and the effect I had on my students and the school community as a whole. I felt very loved, and like I’d made a tangible impact on my kids.

It’s funny, with rangatahi/teenagers – for the most part they don’t dote on you or make their appreciation known like younger children do. Only when it got to me leaving did their feelings come out, asking me to come back and teach when another job came up, and just generally making it clear I would be missed. It’s a pretty good feeling, but it’s also heart-wrenching: being so invested in these rangatahi and knowing I probably won’t find out what happens next for them.

All in all, it was a pretty powerful way to end a challenging two years as a teacher. Next year, I’ll be fully registered. I’m looking forward to a collaborative team, teaching a broader curriculum, and joining the world of SpEd: a new kind of challenge.