Dayniah Manderson’s favorite genre to teach in her 8th-grade English classes at Mott Hall Community School is dystopian fiction.

“I love that the hero challenges the status quo because it coincides with the human experience of trying to break free from systems of control,” she said.

Manderson relates to this struggle to break free from oppressive systems. She has spinal muscular atrophy type 2, a progressive genetic disorder she accommodates through the full-time use of a motorized wheelchair and a team of personal care attendants. Because of her disability, she has faced discrimination and barriers throughout her life.

Growing up in Jamaica, Manderson knew she wanted to be a teacher. But she encountered doubts from others, including the adults in her life. In her elementary school building without an elevator, she couldn’t take any classes held on the second floor.

“As the hero in my own life, I have to go against these structures and prove my worth,” said Manderson, who is also the chapter leader at the Bronx school.

“In doing so, I reveal things to my students about themselves. My visibility and my willingness to be visible allow them space to try new things and be who they are.”

Colleagues, such as art teacher Julianne Gics, admire Manderson’s “special presence” with her students.

“The children are quiet in her presence,” said Gics, so much so that Manderson has never, to Gics’ knowledge, had to raise her voice in a class to get students’ attention. “That’s magical because middle schoolers are a tough crowd.”

How does Manderson create that magic? “It starts with respect for who they are,” she said, emphasizing that authority shouldn’t stem from intimidation, but from “mutual respect” and a willingness to model the behaviors she expects from her students.

When she started teaching in 2003, Manderson faced skepticism from some administrators about her ability to manage a classroom from a wheelchair. In an interview for her first teaching job out of college, a principal told her he thought his students might roll her down the stairs. Instead, she sought out a school to work in that fosters “restorative justice and forgiveness.”

Those strategies have served her well as a teacher. Manderson cites the example of three students who once returned to her classroom after a few days of suspension for getting into a fight and then continued to misbehave. She took them aside one by one to talk about what was driving their behavior.

“They were all motivated by different feelings,” she said. One student wanted to keep up her tough reputation, another felt ashamed and the third was sad that she had disappointed her parents. Manderson talked through the experience with each student, explaining that “their feelings were valid, but acting out isn’t the way to handle negative feelings.” She helped the students think through how to “come back from a mistake and apologize,” which “de-escalated their tension and anxiety,” allowing them to focus in class.

Yasemin Tomko, the 6th-grade English teacher at Mott Hall, loves to collaborate with Manderson and seeks her out for “even-keeled, rational” support when she needs to vent. She treasures the memory of a field trip Manderson led to a poetry slam in Harlem. “Seeing the students on stage, their poetry acknowledged, you could see their self-esteem improve,” said Tomko. “They stood a little taller the next day.”

Manderson moved to the Bronx, where she still lives, just before starting sixth grade. She found an “accommodating, welcoming and understanding” environment at her middle school. Later on, her 10th-grade English teacher at Theodore Roosevelt HS, Michael Selk, made a strong impression with a reading assignment about Helen Keller and her “spirit of defiance,” Manderson said.

“I thought about going against what’s expected, whether by your family or your teacher or society as a whole,” she said. “I realized it’s OK to forge your own path and figure out what your gifts are — to ask where your limits are, rather than what other people perceive your limits to be.”

Decades later, that’s a lesson Manderson carries through to her teaching. She recalled two boys in her class who hated writing and found it boring. They were always drumming on the desk to “make music in class,” she said. They worked hard enough to pass and grew up to become successful musicians. Last summer, one of those students saw Manderson on the street and got out of his car to thank her for patiently working with him.

From that experience, she learned the importance of meeting students where they are.

“Your subject area is only content, but you are teaching the person,” said Manderson. “If a child isn’t excelling with your content, teach them anyway and believe that they will find a path in life if you can get them to envision a future.”