Bad news about her son was good news for students a special teacher helps daily

Many times in life, mahogany separates sides — a judge’s bench, an executive’s desk, a lawyer’s conference table — and which side we find ourselves on will define us or our circumstances. One side will seem the more astute with the power to make decisions, while the other will merely yield to submission. Such hierarchy is not bad or wrong or unjust. It just is. Especially when the circumstances bringing both sides to the mahogany are painful, the scenario becomes a revelation of the many woes of real life, causing at least one side to ask, “What am I doing on this side of the table? How did I even get here?”

Sometimes, just ever so often, it’s destiny or divine providence or fate. So was it for Florence Evermon.

Teaching elementary school was Mrs. Evermon’s niche, her passion. She was solid in the classroom, no question about it … until the fall of 2005.

The Evermon family was turned upside down in 2005 when Ethan Evermon was diagnosed with autism. Unless you’ve received such news, you cannot understand the flood of emotions that rush through your heart and mind. Worry for his future, his health, his place in the world. Anxiety for the struggles facing the entire family. Fear of your own inabilities to be a proper caregiver. Mourning for the loss of “normalcy” for your precious child.

Life as they knew it ceased to exist for the Evermons, and Florence did what any mother would do. She mothered. The focus she had placed on her students shifted towards her son, and she stepped away from the classroom and into her new role as a momma to a child with autism.

Ethan was blessed with an opportunity to attend a specialized autism classroom at Auburn University, and Florence watched his instructors with intent, gleaning ways to be the kind of caregiver, teacher and mother she needed to be for her son. By the time Ethan reached kindergarten, he had advanced so remarkably that Florence felt secure enough to return to her classroom.

Now, though, her perspective had changed.

Prior to the fall of 2005, Mrs. Evermon was a teacher not unlike most of us. She worked diligently to fulfill the needs of all of her students. However, when she met with parents of special needs children, she sat at the mahogany with limited experience, limited training, limited understanding, while across from her sat worried, anxious, fearful, sad parents who simply wanted the very best opportunities for their children.

But when Florence returned to the classroom after learning valuable lessons from her son over years, she looked at her students differently, especially those with special needs. Her perspective had exponentially shifted, so much so that she returned to school to become certified in special education. Now, armed with new knowledge, new training, and new experiences, she meets the needs of the children at Key Elementary with a level of fulfillment none can parallel. She can sit across the table from those scared parents who ask the same desperate questions she once asked about her own Ethan, and offer them real answers rooted in peaceful solidarity.

Ethan is a marvel, for sure. Just ask his momma. He is capable and successful and wonderful and brings the Evermon family joy and inspiration. At one time, he was the reason Florence Evermon sat across from his teachers in passionate hope but daunting fear. But he’s also the reason she now sits on the other side of the mahogany giving passionate hope and reassuring peace to scared parents.

Call it what you may – the circumstances that gave Ethan to the Evermon family, but the gift he has given every child that crosses the path of his momma certainly is a precious, treasured gift.

Sheryl Green is a secondary educator in Columbus, Georgia. Email her at sherylgreen14@yahoo.com.