Miss Amy

I’m starting something new here on the blog.

It’s a new series of posts filed under the That Thing I Never Told You tab.

I intend to occasionally post at someone.

Or–more accurately–to someone.

I felt that Thanksgiving was an appropriate time for this first installment.

It’s directed to someone for whom I’m–for whom we–are thankful.

Someone who goes above and beyond every single day.  Someone who gives until she’s spent and then gives just a little bit more.  Someone with patience and heart and persistence.  Someone who knows my Cassidy well enough to know the difference between her often stubborn, lazy ways and her honest to goodness, IReallyDon’tUnderstandThis limits.

I went to the school today to deliver pumpkin cupcakes in celebration of Cassidy’s eleventh birthday (tomorrow).  While I was there I went back to the pod with Miss Amy, Cassidy’s parapro.

*A parapro is a seriously underpaid educational aid who, in addition to his or her regular duties, is responsible for the day-to-day encouragement, supervision, and general upkeep of children with IEP’s (Individual Educational Plan).

In the pod, Miss Amy walked me through the work Cassidy does on a daily basis.  There was a binder full of papers that tracked her progress.  There were colorful manipulatives and ziploc baggies full of laminated pictures–tools that Cassidy uses to “feel” her way through math and reading.  There was a notebook full of hand-drawn worksheets: Cassidy’s bellwork.  Miss Amy painstakingly writes out numbers and letters and problems that Cassidy can fill in on her own.  She does these days and days in advance so that–in case she’s out sick–subs will have something to do.

These tools–these necessities–come not from the school district or a book or a lesson plan.  These tools are created from scratch because they help to propel Cass towards her goals.

Whereas I forget to teach Cassidy our address, Miss Amy has it covered.  Phone number, too.  Miss Amy spends some of her home time googling two-syllable words.  She invites Cassidy over to decorate Christmas cookies.  She gives her the most thoughtful of birthday gifts.

Miss Amy is a gift to us.  To our Cassidy.

Miss Amy cares–legitimately–for Cassidy.  And honestly, I don’t think I could ask for more.

She rocks.  In countless ways.

This I can assure you: when I sit down and give thanks on this Thanksgiving day, Miss Amy will be among my blessings counted.