Special Teachers

This was a poem I wrote while bawling my eyes out as I pounded on the keyboard right after my son’s Graduation Day. I couldn’t help it — I was emotional (the teachers as well). After four years of trials, failures, triumphs, heartaches, body aches, headaches, laughter and friendship while our special children encouraged us, it was understandable.

God gave me a child with special needs for a purpose. In order to be empowered and to empower others. To experience the aspect of Divinity called patience, faith, trust and most of all loving what is considered by society as imperfect. Nothing is imperfect in this world. It is only us who perceive imperfection. God is perfect. And since God is everything, hence everything is perfect. So there!

“Special Teachers” ~ A Poem

As I fold and put away my son’s uniform for the last time,

I notice how small it is.
Like most of his things, he has outgrown them.
I remember how it used to be too big for him.

When he first put it on, I delighted
That he will be going to school. He was so young!
I didn’t buy him new ones that fit
Because new ones would mean he’s really growing up.

But along with everything else, things must change.
My son doesn’t know it’s his Graduation Day today.

He doesn’t know that
He won’t be going to the same school next year.

But I know and when he can understand, I will let him know too.
Let him know that for the first four years of his life
He was thought by the most dedicated teachers.

Let him know that if not for him, I would never have known
Such “special” people with the highest goals
For the most special children.

Tell him of a place where mothers and fathers
Are told there is hope for their children.
A place where special teachers love children like their own.

But most of all I will tell him
That God made him special so that we come to know and
Remember these special teachers.

As I’ve known all along, my child is a special gift,
A gift of love which opens hearts
And brings special people together.

I realize now if my child was normal
I would have probably just passed by this special school
Without as much as wondering what goes on inside.

I have to put away my son’s uniform now
But I’ll bring it out again when I want to remember.
Remember all special teachers.

(Dedicated to the teachers of Balestier Special School (1998-2002) where my son, who has Down’s syndrome, received intensive therapy and love during the first four years of his life.)