When I was in elementary school during the 1970s and 1980s, I was a talker.
To be honest, I still am.
Back then, students who finished their work early sometimes became a distraction for everyone else. Teachers had a creative solution: they sent early finishers to help in other classrooms.
By sixth grade, I had developed a reputation for both finishing my work quickly and talking a little too much. One day, my teacher decided to put those traits to good use. She sent me to a classroom in another part of the building where I would work one-on-one with a second-grade student.
More than forty years later, I still remember it like it was yesterday.
I would leave my sixth-grade classroom and walk down the hall to what felt like a tiny closet-sized room. There, I worked with a little blonde-haired second grader who was struggling with spelling. Today, we have spell check, autocorrect, and endless online resources. Back then, there was none of that. Learning to spell required patience, practice, and support.
Week after week, we practiced her spelling words together.
Then something wonderful happened.
Her test scores started to improve.
I remember the excitement we all felt—the teacher, my young friend, and me, the proud sixth grader who thought she was helping save the world one spelling word at a time.
I had made a difference.
It wasn't a huge difference. I wasn't changing the world. I was helping one student improve her spelling. But that small experience taught me something powerful: helping someone succeed feels meaningful.
That moment planted a seed that would shape the rest of my life.
Thirty years later, I can look back on a career spent in Special Education. Throughout those years, I taught students across all grade levels and disability categories, worked alongside incredible educators and families, and learned lessons that continue to guide me today.
One thing I've learned is that people often misunderstand Special Education.
I frequently hear people say, "It takes a special person to work in Special Education."
I don't think that's true.
I'm not special.
I'm curious.
I'm interested in people.
And I care about helping others succeed.
At a time when schools across the country are facing significant shortages of Special Education teachers, I think it's important to challenge the idea that only certain people are capable of doing this work.
You don't need extraordinary talents.
You don't need superpowers.
You simply need a desire to make a difference.
Have a desire to help people who need a little more support and understanding.
Be curious about how others learn and experience the world.
Look beyond labels and stereotypes to see the individual and their potential.
Bring compassion, patience, and a sense of humor to your work.
The overlooked beauty of Special Education is that progress is often measured in small steps.
A student reads a new word.
A family finally understands their child's IEP.
A learner gains confidence.
A teacher discovers a strategy that works.
What may seem small to others can be life-changing for someone else.
That simple truth has been at the heart of my career for nearly three decades. It is also the foundation of The Accessible IEP today: helping families and educators understand, support, and advocate for students who simply need a little extra help to reach their potential.
As former President Ronald Reagan once said:
"We cannot help everyone, but everyone can help someone."