By Richard Finegan

You may call me a paraeducator, a paraprofessional, a one-on-one aide, a classroom assistant, a special education technician, even a teacher’s aide (though I am there for the student, not the teacher) but please don’t call me a shadow or describe what I do as shadowing.

The term shadow suggests that the aide never leaves the side of the child. That describes a bodyguard, not a paraeducator. I would not be doing my job if I hovered as close to my student as Malia Obama’s Secret Service agent.

True, I am what used to be called (and I still call) a one-on-one aide, and I do move from classroom to classroom with the same child. But my job is to help that student become more independent, more self-regulated and self-sufficient. I’ve never heard anyone explain how this can happen if I am constantly elbow-to-elbow with my kid.

A better analogy to what we do might be a sheepdog: Constantly alert and watching his or her charges but only moving in and out again as circumstances require. Yes, this analogy works better; shepherding is an improvement over shadowing. Even so, I don’t think I’m quite ready to be called a sheepdog either. Smile.

This is more than just a semantic issue. When others refer to me as a shadow or to what I do as shadowing, they consciously or unconsciously suggest that I should be sticking like glue to my student and that I am perhaps not doing my job properly if I am halfway across the classroom taking notes or, more often, walking around interacting with other students.

Worse even is what it suggests to new paraeducators trying to learn to do what we do. What they should be hearing is: Get up. Step back. Give your student some room to grow!

Related posts:

1. Paraeducators need to speak for ourselves
2. Writing rules for a kindergartner with autism
3. FAQs about anaphoric cuing and reading comprehension

Here’s an excerpt from our first post:

There’s a misconception among many in the field of education about special education.  To many, “learning disabled” means “unable to learn,” or “limited learning capacity.”  The focus is on the “dis” part of “disabled” instead of the ability part.  They ask the wrong questions:  “how smart is he?” rather than “how is he smart?”   

We’re all guilty of this to some extent, and the result is that in more cases than not, the special education classroom is one where the learning is “dumbed down” and expectations are too low to inspire growth.

When this happens, our students become dependent on us for learning and information rather than independent thinkers.  When we lower our expectations because of assumptions about learning capacity or processing strengths, the kids learn not to think hard, think deeply, or use their strengths. 

Parents and teachers who are interested in more than teaching reading are invited to take a look.  We welcome your comments.

Related posts:

1. Hearing the story in your head: The role of expressive reading
2. Autism and hyperlexia, part 1: Anaphoric cuing?
3. Autism and hyperlexia, part 2: Helping Bobby read