By Joanne M. Haas Shandowlyon Hendricks-Williams smiled, but shrugged off the suggestion
that she become a special education teacher. “I said, ‘Well, mmm, no, that’s OK,’”
Hendricks-Williams recalled as her initial reaction to her son’s
teacher a few years ago. That was the first time Hendricks-Willliams
was encouraged to become an educator, but it wasn’t the
last. Convinced by teachers she respected, and supported by her friends
and family, Hendricks-Williams eventually relented and went on
to earn her teaching degree. Now, she knows she made the right
move – and so do her students and their parents. “To me, my students are my family. They are like my children,”
said Hendricks-Williams, who is in her first year as a contract
teacher. She teaches special education to 18 students in grades
six through eight at Samuel Morse Middle School in Milwaukee.
“I try to foster self-esteem,” she said of her students,
“and help them believe they can do whatever they set their
minds to. “The payback is not in my paycheck. It is seeing children
make gains, seeing them believe in themselves -- emotionally and
socially.” And as part of the teaching experience, Hendricks-Williams said
she also tries to build relationships with the students’
families, and uses her own experience as the bridge. “The
fact that I am able to share that I am a parent of a child with
special needs,” she said, is a big factor when working with
the families. And that is where her story begins – when she became the
parent of a son, Brandon, with severe disabilities, including
cerebral palsy, about 14 years ago. “He has profound mental
retardation ... and he is in a wheelchair,” she said. “I believe God gave me my son to give me direction, and
to teach me about unconditional love ... and to celebrate the
small successes,” she said, adding he also has taught her
to have great patience. “He’s a fighter,” she
said of Brandon, who attends Muir Middle School. In the early 1990s, Hendricks-Williams was a housewife and mother,
who took Brandon to the state-funded Birth-to-3 program after
his diagnosis. When Brandon turned 3, he was enrolled in MPS,
and by this time her interest, activism and advocacy for parents
of special education children had already been ignited. Hendricks-Williams did some public speaking and even marched
in Madison. But professionally, she struggled to find her niche.
She did some work in executive sales, and other private sector
positions. “It was a job and a career, but it was not fulfilling,”
she said. She divorced in 1995 and the family found itself in turbulent
times. “We were on welfare. It was tough but we stuck together,”
she said, stressing her daughter Barbara was and remains a loyal
and loving sister devoted to her brother. As she tried different professions, Hendricks-Williams never
strayed far from her children, education and families. She worked
as a paraprofessional at Harambee Community School from 1992 to
1993, and as a parent facilitator for programs to assist parents
of disabled children from 1993 to 1994. From 1995 to 1996, she
served as an educational assistant for MPS. Williams also was director of Barbara & Brandon’s Playhouse,
a home-based child care center for more than 50 children, and
helped parents utilize community programs and resources. She also
served as an AmeriCorp service volunteer, in partnership with
the Milwaukee Teachers’ Education Association, from 2001
to 2003. Also on her record is service with various groups and
panels, including the Wisconsin Council on Exceptional Education,
from 1992 to 1993. As her son moved through the MPS system, she saw many things
she liked but some things she didn’t like. At times she
felt she was being “talked down to” as a single parent
and having her assertiveness misinterpreted as anger. And she
was frustrated by the small number of African-American educators.
“Either I could fuss, or I could get in there and make
some changes myself,” she said. Hendricks-Williams said she takes the lessons she learned from
Brandon into the classroom daily. She keeps her door open while
she teaches so parents can watch. “I want them to feel like
they can come in.” “I’m so fulfilled with the job,” she said.
“It is a ministry for me.”
Every morning, she said, she feels like “I’ve got
to get to school. They (students) need that stability. For a lot
of students in urban settings, the only stability is in the school.” Posted March 19, 2004 |