By the 171st day of school, even a dedicated and enthusiastic teacher like me is pretty sure I am immune to being moved or motivated in any sort of way.
I am mechanically and somewhat maniacally moving toward the soul nurturing, patience restoring and creativity refueling station we know as “summer vacation.” My fuse is short. I have an overwhelming need for order, structure and control in the classroom. Final exams, deadlines for grades and year-end papers are due.
So when I receive less than 24-hour notice about an assembly that means I’ll miss teaching half my classes and need to reschedule an exam—I’m not happy. I mumble and grumble and take my class to the auditorium where I suddenly find myself face-to-face with The Jellybean Conspiracy.
I am moved and motivated.
The Jellybean Conspiracy is a two-act show with songs, dances and poems that is part of a bigger “conspiracy” to offer the viewer “a glimpse at the world as it could be, a culture of kindness, where every person finds a place to belong.”
This day it’s being presented by a local high school drama class and a class of children who have developmental disabilities including Down syndrome and autism. What had begun as an inconvenience in my rigid schedule ended up being a lesson—for me and my students—about the power of walking in another person’s shoes. It highlighted the beauty and serenity found in practicing and teaching a culture of acceptance rather than access.
The theater-based educational program models inclusion and features students with and without disabilities. A script can be downloaded through the website.
The premise of The Jellybean Conspiracy is simple. People are like a glass jar filled with jellybeans. They come in all different sizes, shapes and colors. Each one is special.
Throughout the play, performers invite the audience to see the world from another point of view. The viewer is presented with the experience of a disability through the eyes of a person with the disability, through their sibling and ultimately through their parent.
The effect is emotional, powerful and extremely humbling. It takes a very special sort of presentation to render 200 sixth-graders absolutely silent for an hour and a half this late into the school year. Their eyes were riveted to the stage, some of them were wiping tears. And I know for a fact that they were rethinking the way they interact with people with disabilities.
When a former student with cerebral palsy presented a poem she had written about inclusion I felt the tears I’d been suppressing finally bubble to the surface and spill over.
She spoke of ramps and elevators providing her with access to places but friends and teachers being the ultimate source of a genuine sense of belonging to a community. In that moment, I was reminded that it’s what I do every day—even on the 171st day. I create a community within my classroom and it makes a difference every day.
Turns out that I do not need a summer vacation to restore my motivation and inspiration. I simply needed an hour and a half with an amazing group of “jellybeans” to remind me that every person is special and valuable and that I, as a teacher, have an incredible opportunity to teach that lesson to children every single day.
What more motivation or inspiration could a person need?
Spain is a middle school language arts teacher in New Jersey.
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