I’m going to do the cliche thing where I dig into the good old thesaurus to dig up some synonyms. Because the word “appreciate” is just not getting the job done. So we’ve got “valuing” which is the right sentiment but seems a little cold. “Respect” is another option and that also has the right message but feels insufficient. Next up is “prizing,” and then “cherishing” which feels like we are getting somewhere. Let’s add in “treasuring,” “admiration,” “regard,” and “esteem.” Maybe instead of one, I will just say some combination of those words together is the spirit of what I hope this post expresses.
The reason for that elaborate buildup is that this past Monday was Paraprofessional Appreciation Day. I went through all that above because when it comes to the incredible paras that help Declan survive and thrive in school every single day, “appreciation” does not cover the incredible collection of warm feeling I have to the job they do and the spirit with which they do it.
I will admit, I was embarrassed I didn’t know there was a Paraprofessional Appreciation Day until Declan’s special education teach emailed us to let us know it was coming up, and that she was collecting gifts to provide the folks who help Declan (and others) navigate his day. Yes, I have a few other things going on, but for everything these people do, one day (or even a week) is not enough.
Declan spends the majority of his school day in the intensive education room. Along with his special ed teacher, the room is staffed with seven paras. I’m happy to say I know a few of them, but because of his limited verbal ability I don’t know them all. What I do know is that they do a job that is extraordinarily demanding, and from everything I have witnessed, do it with incredible kindness, patience, and good spirit.
I should also add the wonderful Mrs. Perry is a vital part of Rory’s kindergarten class, and while her role is not as directly one-on-one with my child, the prospect of trying to consistently wrangle a room of six-year olds seems no less daunting or impressive. I honestly cannot even imagine, so a special shoutout to her as well.
As usual, though, Declan’s situation is a bit unique. One of those seven individuals is with him all day, every day. He simply would not be able to make it through a school day without them. They work with him in his intensive ed room. They help him take part in activities in his traditional 3rd-grade classroom, they assist him to eat his lunch, let him take part in the various specials like gym, and music, and art with his typical peers, and generally do a nearly impossible job day after day. It’s simply awe inspiring. I freely admit I don’t have what it takes to do what they do, under the circumstances under which they do it. I cannot speak for any of the other children, but I know that Declan does not always (often?) make their jobs easy. He’s a charming, exhausting, frustrating, funny, enigma of a boy and to be able to send him to school every day having complete faith in the people who will be tasked with caring for him and helping him learn and grow is priceless. Absolutely priceless.
So yes, when his teacher asked if we could send something in, I was more than happy to procure a few gift cards (strong work from Starbucks to sell gift cards in packages so you don’t have to pay for each one individually). Much like my limited vocabulary, however, it did not feel like nearly enough. The gratitude Caryn and I have for these folks demands parades in their honor. Fireworks displays and sky writing. Oprah-esque raffles with new appliances under their seats every day when they get to work. Every thing I do and say when I try to express my incredible gratitude for these folks feels wildly insufficient, which extends to the other handful of teachers and therapists who work so hard with our dude. Gift cards were the least I could do, as is hammering out 700 words or so of a newsletter post to try and make public my intense gratitude. And yes, my absolute and heartfelt appreciation for everything they do, and the kindness and spirit with which they do it.