our day at the park June 28, 2009

Every year, a few days before the last day of school, I take my class to a nearby park for our end of the year celebration.  (Last year I called it our end of the year party, and one of my girls showed up in a gorgeous party dress — we had to find park playclothes for her to borrow at the nurse’s office — so this year I was careful not to call it a party.)

It’s more fun if parents come along, so this year the children made invitations to take home, and I invited younger siblings to come, too.  We had a very good turnout (8-12 parents, 2 newborn babies, 1 older baby, and 3 toddlers), and it was a great morning.

We stopped at my favorite coffee shop along the way to pick up treats, and then proceeded to the park.  Everyone was in a good mood, and the weather was perfect.

There is a home daycare a block from our school, and I know the sisters who run it.  Every year when we come to the park, the sisters and their charges are there.  Still, I had a wistful feeling when we arrived.  Miss Slinger wasn’t with me last year, and Ali and Nan are gone, so I was the only one who remembered our past visits to the park, or realized that this is a long-standing tradition.  Well, Ferdinand was with me last year, but this whole year he has behaved as though everything we do is new (Marvelous Mittens Day?  Wow!  Never heard of that before!), so I don’t think he remembered.

We ate our treats, admired the babies, played in the sand, climbed to great heights, and shared our sand toys.  There were many caterpillars to be found — thrilling — and the grownups enjoyed chatting and sipping their iced coffees.

Then one of my boys shoved a toddler (the little brother of a classmate) face-down into the sand.  I walked over just in time to see a crying child, with his mouth full of rocks and sand, and some of my other boys looking shocked.  The Pusher (or so shall we call him today) looked at me and admitted doing it.

“Why did you push him?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” the Pusher said.

I put him in timeout at the side of the playground for a little while, checked on the toddler and apologized to his mother, and then went back to talk with the Pusher.

“It’s not okay to hurt other people,” I said.  “I know you are really sad about your mommy and daddy not living together anymore.  It’s really sad.”

“Yeah, it’s really sad,” he agreed.

“But you can’t hurt people, even if you feel sad or mad.”

We discussed it a little further, and then I sent him to apologize.

Twenty minutes later, he was on a climber leading up to a slide, when the same toddler tried to climb up and join him.

The Pusher shoved him off.

The toddler fell three feet and landed facedown in the sand, again with his mouth open.  He could have been terribly hurt, but luckily, he was fine, just upset.

I was so upset myself that I could barely speak.  I took the Pusher by the hand and put him in timeout again, without saying a word to him.  Then I paced and breathed while I tried to figure out what to do.

I realized that the Pusher was a danger to this particular two year old (a two year old?!  Who hurts a two year old?!) and had to leave the park.  Miss Slinger, at my request, took him back to school, to the behavior room.

It put a pall on the whole morning.  The Pusher’s parents, when they learned about it, were really upset.  They have had a very painful year, and they know that it has had an effect on their son.  The behavior lady decided to suspend him — for the last two days of school — because this wasn’t the first time he’d been violent in this way.

I was tense and depressed for the rest of the day.  It’s so hard not to be affected when one of my students is struggling.

Friday: blood April 24, 2009

So Titch kicked a little boy with Down’s Syndrome in the face and knocked out his tooth.  Apparently there was blood everywhere.

We were on the playground, and I was trying to gather my goslings to line up and get ready to go home, and Titch — the line leader — was missing.  Miss Slinger found him and brought him  in, and then next thing I know, Titch’s dad is there, calm but upset, telling me what Titch had done.

Titch’s dad works at my school, and was responsible for the little boy whose tooth his own son kicked out.   How’s that for complicated?  After I sent the kids home on the bus, Titch’s dad and I went to talk to the assistant principal and I had to recommend suspension.  Titch’s dad understood, and then I emailed Titch’s mom at work, and she called immediately.

Titch’s parents are getting divorced — painfully — and the stress is clearly finally getting to him.  What happened today was the culmination of a difficult, and slightly violent, week for him.  (Choking Harold in the bathroom, hitting Harold at gym class, poking Owen and Ferdinand during meeting, kicking Leo, etc.)

The hard thing is that his face looks happy and calm.  He shows no signs of remorse or concern.  “I was on the climber and he was on the ladder coming up and I didn’t want him up there so I kicked him in the face” as if it was a perfectly reasonable thing to do.

I started my weekend feeling so tense and upset and sad for Titch and his family.

bus behavior January 15, 2009

So…I get to school this morning after not being able to request a sub, and get a note from the district transportation office saying that on the way home Tuesday, my babies were HORRIBLE. 

Apparently they were running around the bus and fighting and ignoring the driver completely.  She had to pull over to the side of the road three times, to no avail.

Then I get to my room and there’s an angry grandma.  Her grandson was hit and punched by “four Mexican boys” and what am I gonna do about it?!  Somehow I managed to talk her down.  I reassured her, and told her I, too, was appalled to hear about the behavior on the bus, and that I would take care of it.  I also told her all the steps I’d be taking.  (I also mentioned that I know who the likely worst culprits are, and some of them are not Hispanic, and some of them are not boys.)  She left mollified, thank goodness.

Step one:  write a letter to the parents describing the behavior and asking their help in teaching the children the importance of bus safety.

Step two:  get the letter translated (THANK you Rita!).

Step three:  ask the behavior lady to come to my class to talk about bus safety, and how riding the bus is a privilege, not a right.  (She was great.  The kids listened really seriously.)

Step four:  send home my letter, and walk the kids to the bus, and assign each one a seat.  Have them apologize to the driver (she’s new, which could be part of the problem) and go over the rules one more time.

I really hope I hear good things about the bus ride when I talk to the driver tomorrow!

Today’s development September 23, 2008

David kicked Max in the face as hard as he could, twice.  Nan managed to grab him as he was trying for a third attempt.

He has been suspended and won’t be back until Thursday.

We are having a meeting to discuss the situation on Friday morning, and I am going to ask the team (psychologist, social worker, etc.), “at what point do we decide he’s not going to be in this classroom anymore?”

Nan, sweet Nan, said this was the worst morning we’ve ever had.

The only good thing to come from it was we made a kickass BLUE collage.

Wahhhh! September 22, 2008

Alas, it was another difficult morning.

Most of the hour I had before school started I was at a tech meeting in the computer lab, where we learned how to do a behavior screener on each child.  I got all mine done — which was good — but only with lots of technical glitches, which was not so good.  Everyone on the staff is frustrated, because the tech people at the district level instituted a lot of changes which have made using our computers an exercise in frustration, or even rage.  I doubt that the district techies made the changes in order to make our lives harder, but that is the end result, and they have been ignoring our media specialist, who keeps going to them with all the problems we’re having.

One teacher stood up and made an impassioned plea to all of us to document our struggles in letter form, and turn them in for the media specialist to take to her meeting at the district level later this week.  Hooray!  So even though I had a ton to do back in my room, I sat down and wrote furiously.

I was finishing up my letter when an assistant teacher came in with his son, whose first day was today.  I greeted them warmly, but I was thinking, “Ack!  I’ve only got ten minutes before I have to open the door!”  I asked them if they wouldn’t mind waiting in the hall, and then ran around the room setting out journals and pencils and crayons.

Arrival time went fine, although the new boy was confused and needed my help to figure out our routines, and one boy was back after a week’s absence and didn’t know about the journals.  (He was out recovering from having his appendix removed.  His sister brought him to me, showed me the bandage on his abdomen, and said, “nobody can punch him in the stomach,” and I said, “of course not,” but inside I was thinking, “how am I going to keep this kid safe?!”)

About five kids were wearing red for our celebration of Red Day, which was kind of disappointing.  I think a lot of the parents are not reading my newsletter.  Perhaps they don’t even open the folder!

We got to gym class no problem, and I had my appendicitis boy sit out so he wouldn’t get hurt, then went to find a translator to explain to him that he was NOT in trouble, we were just trying to keep him safe.

Most of my prep time I spent in the kindergarten room next door, in my role as a teacher mentor, because the K teacher had asked me to come observe the behavior in her room and help her figure out how to manage it better.  I took diligent notes but while I was there her class was very well behaved and she did a terrific job leading them through calendar time and through a story.

When I picked up the class from gym Nan told me that it had gone really well and that everyone had been good.  That did not last, unfortunately.

Back in the room I tried to get them excited about red day, and showed them all sorts of red things I own because red is my favorite color, but David said, “why are you being all silly?” and none of the class seemed all that engaged.  Then when Nan was going to set up centers for me, David grabbed my stuff, ripped some papers, and then headed out the door at top speed, punching Max in the face on the way.  So Nan was gone, and I was on my own, trying to explain the different color-themed centers, set them up, and help the children choose and put their clothespins in the right places on the pocket chart.

Max went to house corner, where he, Trixie, and another boy and girl all started fighting and tussling over baby dolls and dinner plates, and all ended up having to leave.  Then Max chose blocks, but wouldn’t actually go there, and kept asking the little boy, “where do you want to go?  Do you want to go to blocks with me?”  The boy clearly didn’t want to be with Max anymore, but I couldn’t get Max to get started on the blocks so the boy could decide where to go next.  Next thing I knew, Max and the boy and Trixie were all fighting over clothespins, and Max was pushing them and knocked down the centers pocket chart. 

I put him in time out but he started screaming “I want to go to blocks!” and tried to hit, kick, and scratch me.  He succeeded in drawing blood on my forearm.

The new boy kept switching centers without moving his clothespin, so I tried to help him, but he didn’t get it.  He went over to the puzzle shelf and knocked over five puzzles, whether on purpose or by accident, I couldn’t tell.  I spent a long time on the floor trying to put the puzzles back together, during which time Nan returned with a calm David (who started working on our red collage in art), and went out with a still-screaming Max.  While she was in the hall he ripped down a poster, scratched her arm and drew blood, and kicked her in the shin so hard he broke the skin.

I could tell we wouldn’t have time for recess, so I started clean-up time, which made Max out in the hall scream louder than ever.  Finally, everyone sat down, and Max returned calm (Nan is still a miracle worker), and I read Red Is Best, a great story about a little girl who feels the same way I do about the color red.  But only part way through David suddenly punched the boy next to him and ran out of the room….

…And no, there wasn’t any time during the morning when I felt that things were going well.

yes David, I love you September 10, 2008

David is struggling.  He came off the bus angry today — I found out later that someone at home had yelled at him.  I was trying to line up my class to go to gym and he got off the bus late and started laughing and running through the halls.  I let Nan go after him (walking, of course; we don’t chase children), and I went down to gym, and he eventually showed up, and was calm. 

Nan is a miracle worker.

But when I picked them up, Nan whispered to me that gym was hard for everybody, and that David was hitting a lot and had to take a time out.

He was fine in meeting — he loves morning meeting.  He interrupts me eagerly with all kinds of answers.  He understands everything I’m doing with the calendar and the morning message, and some days, it seems like he’s the only one.  We wrote down what we know about bugs on a chart and he loved that.

Then he suddenly punched the kid next to him.  So I said he had to take a time out and he wouldn’t go, and then he ran out of the room.  Nan, again with the miracles, got him to come back and sit in the chair, and when I said, “are you ready to come back?” he smiled and nodded yes, quite seriously.

He hit again on the way to recess, punched a classmate in the face on the playground, and had to sit on the bench the rest of the time.  He wailed with grief when recess was over.  It was really short today because we had such a hard time getting lined up and outside.

Then when Nan was helping him get his coat, he said, “Teacher!” and when I looked back at him, he blew me a kiss.

Yes, David, I love you.

the first two days of school September 5, 2008

There are two boys in my class who know each other from last year and are giving me a run for my money. 

Let’s call them Max (as in Where the Wild Things Are) and David (as in No, David!).  Max has a face like an angel and also likes to screech.  David is really smart and sweet, and cannot stop hitting other children.  Max loves school, and he loves to wrestle and punch.  David is either following directions perfectly, or he is interrupting me constantly and hitting each child he sees.

Both boys have been in time out already, and Max has already had to miss recess!

The tricky thing is that my new special ed teacher (Miss Nelson, let’s call her, as in Miss Nelson is Missing) — who replaces Ali, who has gone on to her own preK classroom — is terrific, but she and I don’t share a long working relationship.  I don’t know what she thinks of me and how I’m handling my two little miscreants.  I definitely need her help, so I think I’m going to call her this weekend and ask for her advice, and let her talk about what she thinks we should do.

The other tricky thing is I still don’t have an assistant teacher to replace Jan, so when my young volunteer and I took the class outside, Miss Nelson was inside with a screaming Max (who could NOT BELIEVE I was not allowing him to have recess after kicking one kid in the stomach and punching a little girl in the face), and I was more or less on my own with David, who had to take two time-outs on the playground, and Leo (Leo the Late Bloomer) who totally melted down yesterday when it was time to stop playing pirates and go in to get our backpacks and head for the buses.

The volunteer was very helpful, and Leo didn’t mind getting on the bus today.  (I grabbed his hand before I blew my whistle to line the kids up, and said, “Let’s go look for pirates!” which seemed to help.)

All the kids who don’t speak English are doing really well, at least.  One of them cried yesterday, but he LOVED it when we sang “Happy Birthday” to him in both English and Spanish today, and another one did fine yesterday but was sobbing during gym class today.  She accepted my hug as comfort, however, and she made it through the rest of the morning just fine.  One little boy seems really puzzled as to why I want him to sit still and keep his legs folded in the meeting area — I’m guessing I’m his first teacher ever.  Poor kid, I must seem like this strict, strange lady who speaks in gibberish and won’t let him just do whatever he wants.

We opened up art yesterday, and then today we opened up the sand table.  Whoops, not too much sand in there.  I need to find some, stat!  Ferdinand (Ferdinand the Bull) — who was in my class last year and is repeating, to give him more time to learn English so we can better understand his special needs — was really confused why everything wasn’t open, the way he remembers it.  He keeps pointing at the blocks and the house corner and our centers time chart — come on, teacher, remember how we’re supposed to do centers time?!

I can’t wait until we’ve finally learned all the routines and are on our regular schedule.

And I really hope I can figure out how to get Max and David to stop hitting.