Voice Matters

This is the story of a miracle. Maybe. Miracles are a complicated business, and educators are often credited with the performance of miracles. When the media isn’t finding a reason to bash education, they will tout educators as miracle workers. It is a romantic notion, but I’m not so sure. Here’s one definition of a miracle: “a surprising and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws and is therefore considered to be the work of a divine agency.” So do educators work miracles? In general, I would say the reality runs much deeper. I’ll come back to this at the end.

We educate the whole child. That means we are not only tasked with the academic progress of children, but also with being caretakers of their socio-emotional well-being, of their development as citizens and leaders, and of their understanding of their place in the world and the power they have to make an impact. I think of that power and place as each child’s voice. We want young people to believe they matter, to understand their impact, and to contribute in a confident, intentional and reasoned way to making the world a better place, not only for themselves, but for everyone else, too.

So what happens if a child literally has no voice? What if she truly cannot or will not speak? Last week many of us at PAMS got to be a part of something a casual observer might call a miracle.

We have a student (I’ll call her Sally; not her real name) who is dealing with a challenge called selective mutism. I won’t go into great detail about it here, but essentially a child who has selective mutism is unable to speak in specific situations, but may speak in other situations. Commonly, the child will speak at home, but will not speak in more public settings, like school. (more information can be found at http://www.asha.org/public/speech/disorders/SelectiveMutism/). Most, if not all, of the students at PAMS have never heard one of their classmates speak. At least, that is, not until last week.

Sally has been dealing with the challenge of selective mutism all her life. At the root of her challenge is a paralyzing fear of speaking in front of others. While so many of us find it quite easy to speak, Sally’s challenge has evolved over the course of her life to the point where she simply cannot utter a word to anyone. Working with a few of her teachers, Sally’s mother, who is an extraordinary person, worked with some of her teachers to find an opportunity to show a video of Sally speaking at home to the camera, addressing her classmates, as she took a vital step to perhaps one day finally conquering the fear that grips her so tightly. At the same time, the purpose was to connect to her classmates by asking them to consider a fear that grips them, and then to think about how they might overcome it. Perhaps most importantly, part of the message was to let everyone know fear is natural, and we all are challenged by it.

I was fortunate to be in one of the classrooms to see Sally’s video. Sally’s classmates were respectful, and many were moved. Sally’s teachers were deeply touched and proud. You can only imagine how her mother felt. For Sally to speak, even if on video, in front of her classmates while she was present with them, was nothing short of, well, a miracle.

Except it wasn’t really a miracle. Sally’s mother has spent a lifetime educating herself and advocating for her daughter. Her love for Sally is deep and abiding. Sally’s teachers understand their mission is bigger than academics, and they worked with her mother to set aside curriculum for a little while in order to create the time and opportunity for a child to safely take a huge risk. They have done it before with others, and they will do it again. Sally’s classmates responded with kindness and connection, something that is not always easy for middle school children, but which is something we constantly teach and focus on throughout the school program. And, of course, Sally had to dig deep within herself to find the courage to finally let her voice be heard.

To me a miracle implies something happening spontaneously, unexpectedly, inexplicably, and suddenly in a moment. The moment when this young lady spoke to her classmates took years to get to, and it required the hard work, creative thinking, and compassion of many people. The intellectual, spiritual, emotional, and social growth of a child does not happen overnight or without effort. Last week, all of that effort was rewarded in a moment, and everyone involved learned something about themselves.

Especially Sally. I hope she knows how fortunate we are to have finally heard her speak. I hope she knows that what she said mattered, that it made an impact. I hope she knows that her words truly show that she has the one thing that we hope every child will know they have.

A voice.