This blog got its name two years before I started it, when I was teaching kindergarten and had one particularly challenging little guy.  During what was possibly our 74th heart to heart about Good Choices and Bad Choices (which took place around, um, the middle of September), Ishmael looked up at me with swimming brown eyes, all three feet of him brimming with emotion.  “It’s just…I love my teacher.”

Pause.  Clarification: “NOT YOU!”  Pause.  Sniff.  “My other teacher.”  The preschool teacher.  Alas.

Ten years ago, I was a clueless post-college kid two weeks into a job as a substitute teacher’s aide when somebody decided I’d make a decent teacher.  One emergency credential, two regular credentials, one existential crisis where I ran off cross-country to join an education think tank, and an inordinate number of incentive systems later, I’m a semi-veteran special educator and coordinator of the largest elementary full-inclusion program in a deeply challenged urban school district.


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