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Jan/Feb 2010
By Tina Thurmond
Welcome to Mr. Hemphill’s class at the DeKalb County Technology Center. Today’s assignment is...a grilled cheese sandwich?
That might sound a little odd in an ordinary classroom, but in this particular place, ordinary is just not on the menu.
The classroom is part of a program called ‘Challenges’ created and implemented almost 15 years ago in DeKalb County. Under the guidance of Pam Gann, Director of Special Education for DeKalb County, the program focuses on special needs students from every school in the county, and works much like regular vocational classes. Its purpose is to help the students grow in both practical and intellectual knowledge.
The building that houses Challenges at the technical school is private and includes a large instructional area, plus a standard residential kitchen with fully stocked cabinets. There is also a washer and dryer, and various other small appliances.
The curriculum covers everything from cooking an egg or sewing on a button, to tending babies and learning to pass a driver’s permit test.
At the heart of it all is their teacher, Jesse Hemphill.
In such an unusual class, it is only fitting that the teacher is no run-of-the-mill guy, either. Hemphill is a really, really big man. His large frame, shaved head and outdoor style usually make people think he is a professional wrestler, or a body-building, karate-kicking tough guy. Hemphill says in his younger days that was pretty much the truth. He does have a black belt in karate, and when he was body building, he really was a professional wrestler.
Aside from his size, looks and gender, there is one more thing about Hemphill that makes him stand out to the kids who have called him their teacher since his career started ten years ago. The soft-spoken ex-tough guy really loves them, and they know it.
Outside the box
Hemphill and his wife Dana, a kindergarten teacher at Geraldine, met in Kentucky where they were enrolled in the same college. It was love at first sight for both of them. They have been married for 24 years, and have two children. Their daughter Mariah, has just received a four-year scholarship to Jacksonville State University; son Graham, is a student and football player at Fyffe High School.
Like Hemphill, their family life is a little outside the box, but it works. “We don’t have a TV,” he says. “We literally had too much SpongeBob, so we decided about seven years ago that we didn’t need it. Instead, we talk and read a lot in the evenings, and work in our yard,” he says. Together, the Hemphills have landscaped a beautiful and serene haven in the woods surrounding their Gatlinburg-style home in Crossville.
In his spare time, Hemphill is an accomplished musician and has even built his own recording studio. His various other hobbies include raising exotic chickens from around the world, and playing football with his son.
Getting a sign
After college, Hemphill, a journeyman blacksmith, worked for himself forging iron and making collectible knives and swords for trade shows.
But when he and Dana decided to start a family, he knew he needed a more dependable profession.
“One day my wife said, ‘Why don’t you go back to school?’ I was saying ‘No, I can’t do that,’” he says, “when literally, we heard a commercial on the radio that said college registration was going on.”
Hemphill took that for a sign and went back to school intending to teach History. But when he started substitute teaching on the side, a chance encounter changed everything.
“I subbed one day for a special education class,” he says, “and I came home and told my wife, ‘I know what I want to do.’”
Something about the special needs students touched Hemphill’s heart, and he felt that teaching them was where he belonged. “They are the sweetest kids,” he says.
Hemphill gets hugs and high fives each morning, and always tries to look at the students’ new shoes or listen to their excited chatter while everyone hustles into the classroom.
“We try to cook on Mondays,” he says. “We sort of plan our menus around things like, if it’s cold, we might make chili dogs, or they might decide they want breakfast, so we get out the bacon and eggs. And just about everybody wants a turn at cracking the eggs,” he says with a laugh.
The kids even cook a full Thanksgiving meal each year, including helping to prepare the turkey and making dessert.
No matter the occasion, the lesson continues after the food is done. “I try to teach them that it’s important to take turns serving each other and being polite,” he says. “They are all really good about that.”
“We’re sort of like a little family in here,” he says. “By the time the year is over, they’re all kind of like cousins. They really don’t see black, white, or Hispanic. They see ‘this is my friend.’ It also helps break down barriers between this school or that school. These kids forget all about who goes to Sylvania or Ider. In here, they are all part of the same family,” he says.
Besides cooking, the students also learn things like laundry room skills. “We go over how to separate the clothes, like, ‘You don’t throw white shirts in with red socks’, or how to wash and dry this or that,” he says.
There are plenty of smiles that light up Hemphill’s classroom, especially when it is time to practice with the ‘babies’. The school has two life-like computerized dolls that are programmed to do certain things, such as cry, until the student identifies the problem and corrects it. They also have special features like hinged necks which allow the doll’s head to fall backward if it is not supported correctly.
“These dolls help the kids to know a few things about how to act around a real baby,” Hemphill says. “They need to know that if they don’t hold it right they could hurt it, or how to change a diaper. We practice that too,” he adds with a smile.
Billy Ray
The curriculum of Challenges is purposely carved a little loosely. Hemphill explains that when working with special needs students, the teacher needs to be free enough to change things up if the situation calls for it. He says he tries to give each child as much personal attention as he can, whether it is helping them cope with losing a pet, or giving a lesson on the guitar he keeps in the room.
“A lot of my kids now have the Internet, or Facebook,” he says, “so we spend time talking about Internet safety and online predators, and what to do to be safe. That’s just because everybody needs to know it.”
“We’ve done a few units on how to balance a checkbook, or fill out a job application,” he adds.
“In the program, we are trying to help these kids be a little more rounded, just to be a little bit more confident. We want them to have a better grasp of who they are when they go out into the real world,” he says.
One student, Billy Ray Goforth, who is in his last year with Challenges, has made big strides since he has been in the program. “Billy Ray is so much more confident,” says his proud mom, Janice Powell. “He knows now that he can do things by himself, and he’ll say ‘Mama, watch me!’. He thinks he’s a real chef now that Mr. Hemphill is letting him cook. Every time I’m in the kitchen he wants to help measure and stir stuff! I can’t say enough about how this has helped Bill,” she says. “I am very grateful to them.”
Proud moment
Like the confidence Billy Ray has gained, Hemphill tries to impart things his students can carry with them into their lives once they leave the Challenge program. He often tells them, “You may not be thinking about this now, but one day you’ll need to know it.” He makes it one of his goals to equip his students with as much practical knowledge as he can. “I want them to know things like, what to do if they have a job interview, or where to go if they need help, or how to fix a meal for themselves if they need to,” he says.
While Hemphill says he does not have favorites, he says some of the children leave particular impressions on his heart when he sees them overcome things they might have thought impossible before. His most memorable, he says, came one day when he was at Collinsville Trade Day and a young man approached him. “He was one of my former students,” he says, “and he wanted to introduce me to his wife and children. I guess that was one of the proudest moments of my life.”
An extraordinary teacher gives new meaning to tough love
Back
Jesse Hemphill (right) teaches basic life skills to special needs students in his ‘Challenges’ program at DeKalb County Technical School. Above, Hemphill instructs students, including Manuel Lopez (left), on the proper way to hold an infant.
By Tina Thurmond
Welcome to Mr. Hemphill’s class at the DeKalb County Technology Center. Today’s assignment is...a grilled cheese sandwich?
That might sound a little odd in an ordinary classroom, but in this particular place, ordinary is just not on the menu.
The classroom is part of a program called ‘Challenges’ created and implemented almost 15 years ago in DeKalb County. Under the guidance of Pam Gann, Director of Special Education for DeKalb County, the program focuses on special needs students from every school in the county, and works much like regular vocational classes. Its purpose is to help the students grow in both practical and intellectual knowledge.
The building that houses Challenges at the technical school is private and includes a large instructional area, plus a standard residential kitchen with fully stocked cabinets. There is also a washer and dryer, and various other small appliances.
The curriculum covers everything from cooking an egg or sewing on a button, to tending babies and learning to pass a driver’s permit test.
At the heart of it all is their teacher, Jesse Hemphill.
In such an unusual class, it is only fitting that the teacher is no run-of-the-mill guy, either. Hemphill is a really, really big man. His large frame, shaved head and outdoor style usually make people think he is a professional wrestler, or a body-building, karate-kicking tough guy. Hemphill says in his younger days that was pretty much the truth. He does have a black belt in karate, and when he was body building, he really was a professional wrestler.
Aside from his size, looks and gender, there is one more thing about Hemphill that makes him stand out to the kids who have called him their teacher since his career started ten years ago. The soft-spoken ex-tough guy really loves them, and they know it.
Outside the box
Hemphill and his wife Dana, a kindergarten teacher at Geraldine, met in Kentucky where they were enrolled in the same college. It was love at first sight for both of them. They have been married for 24 years, and have two children. Their daughter Mariah, has just received a four-year scholarship to Jacksonville State University; son Graham, is a student and football player at Fyffe High School.
Like Hemphill, their family life is a little outside the box, but it works. “We don’t have a TV,” he says. “We literally had too much SpongeBob, so we decided about seven years ago that we didn’t need it. Instead, we talk and read a lot in the evenings, and work in our yard,” he says. Together, the Hemphills have landscaped a beautiful and serene haven in the woods surrounding their Gatlinburg-style home in Crossville.
In his spare time, Hemphill is an accomplished musician and has even built his own recording studio. His various other hobbies include raising exotic chickens from around the world, and playing football with his son.
Getting a sign
After college, Hemphill, a journeyman blacksmith, worked for himself forging iron and making collectible knives and swords for trade shows.
But when he and Dana decided to start a family, he knew he needed a more dependable profession.
“One day my wife said, ‘Why don’t you go back to school?’ I was saying ‘No, I can’t do that,’” he says, “when literally, we heard a commercial on the radio that said college registration was going on.”
Hemphill took that for a sign and went back to school intending to teach History. But when he started substitute teaching on the side, a chance encounter changed everything.
“I subbed one day for a special education class,” he says, “and I came home and told my wife, ‘I know what I want to do.’”
Something about the special needs students touched Hemphill’s heart, and he felt that teaching them was where he belonged. “They are the sweetest kids,” he says.
Hemphill gets hugs and high fives each morning, and always tries to look at the students’ new shoes or listen to their excited chatter while everyone hustles into the classroom.
“We try to cook on Mondays,” he says. “We sort of plan our menus around things like, if it’s cold, we might make chili dogs, or they might decide they want breakfast, so we get out the bacon and eggs. And just about everybody wants a turn at cracking the eggs,” he says with a laugh.
The kids even cook a full Thanksgiving meal each year, including helping to prepare the turkey and making dessert.
No matter the occasion, the lesson continues after the food is done. “I try to teach them that it’s important to take turns serving each other and being polite,” he says. “They are all really good about that.”
“We’re sort of like a little family in here,” he says. “By the time the year is over, they’re all kind of like cousins. They really don’t see black, white, or Hispanic. They see ‘this is my friend.’ It also helps break down barriers between this school or that school. These kids forget all about who goes to Sylvania or Ider. In here, they are all part of the same family,” he says.
Besides cooking, the students also learn things like laundry room skills. “We go over how to separate the clothes, like, ‘You don’t throw white shirts in with red socks’, or how to wash and dry this or that,” he says.
There are plenty of smiles that light up Hemphill’s classroom, especially when it is time to practice with the ‘babies’. The school has two life-like computerized dolls that are programmed to do certain things, such as cry, until the student identifies the problem and corrects it. They also have special features like hinged necks which allow the doll’s head to fall backward if it is not supported correctly.
“These dolls help the kids to know a few things about how to act around a real baby,” Hemphill says. “They need to know that if they don’t hold it right they could hurt it, or how to change a diaper. We practice that too,” he adds with a smile.
Billy Ray
The curriculum of Challenges is purposely carved a little loosely. Hemphill explains that when working with special needs students, the teacher needs to be free enough to change things up if the situation calls for it. He says he tries to give each child as much personal attention as he can, whether it is helping them cope with losing a pet, or giving a lesson on the guitar he keeps in the room.
“A lot of my kids now have the Internet, or Facebook,” he says, “so we spend time talking about Internet safety and online predators, and what to do to be safe. That’s just because everybody needs to know it.”
“We’ve done a few units on how to balance a checkbook, or fill out a job application,” he adds.
“In the program, we are trying to help these kids be a little more rounded, just to be a little bit more confident. We want them to have a better grasp of who they are when they go out into the real world,” he says.
One student, Billy Ray Goforth, who is in his last year with Challenges, has made big strides since he has been in the program. “Billy Ray is so much more confident,” says his proud mom, Janice Powell. “He knows now that he can do things by himself, and he’ll say ‘Mama, watch me!’. He thinks he’s a real chef now that Mr. Hemphill is letting him cook. Every time I’m in the kitchen he wants to help measure and stir stuff! I can’t say enough about how this has helped Bill,” she says. “I am very grateful to them.”
Proud moment
Like the confidence Billy Ray has gained, Hemphill tries to impart things his students can carry with them into their lives once they leave the Challenge program. He often tells them, “You may not be thinking about this now, but one day you’ll need to know it.” He makes it one of his goals to equip his students with as much practical knowledge as he can. “I want them to know things like, what to do if they have a job interview, or where to go if they need help, or how to fix a meal for themselves if they need to,” he says.
While Hemphill says he does not have favorites, he says some of the children leave particular impressions on his heart when he sees them overcome things they might have thought impossible before. His most memorable, he says, came one day when he was at Collinsville Trade Day and a young man approached him. “He was one of my former students,” he says, “and he wanted to introduce me to his wife and children. I guess that was one of the proudest moments of my life.”
