Pumpkin’s mom October 2, 2009

This was the conference I was most concerned about, and that I thought about the most.  I rehearsed in my head over and over what I would say to her.  As it turned out, she was very open to what I had to say, and she even said, “I feel relieved that I’m not imagining it, that’s it’s not just me.”

So we’re going to move ahead with the first intervention for speech, with the speech therapist’s help, and we’ll see how that goes.  After two interventions that don’t work, we refer him for assessment.

He was at the conference today; while Mom and I talked, he played with legos, blocks, and whiteboards.  He has such a sweet face.  He kept interrupting us to show off his work.  I really hope we can help him this year.

Wednesday: Library April 26, 2009

We went to the library for preschool storytime on Wednesday.  I’d forgotten to give Miss Nelson advance notice, so when she came in she got tense.  Then she said she wouldn’t go — and would keep her four early childhood special ed students back, too!  She left the room right after that.

When she returned, I told her I didn’t feel comfortable with not bringing all four children.  I knew she was worried about Leo, but it had been such a long time since we’d been to the library, and back then, Miss Nelson was never saying “no” to him.  Now, she was setting limits for him, and he has come a long way in terms of his behavior.

It was very clear she was angry with me for taking this stance.  She ended up coming along, as did all four of my special ed children, but she was very tense and wouldn’t look at me for quite a while.

But storytime was lovely, and Leo and all the others did just fine.  The only thing that bothered him was when we clapped after a story — too noisy — so I asked the librarian not to do the clapping anymore, and that solved the problem.

It’s exhausting to have these little mini-dramas on a regular basis.

meeting edward November 11, 2008

I have a new student.  Edward (named after the character in Rosemary Wells’ Edward the Unready) was in my room after I came back from lunch.  Miss Nelson helped his mother fill out paperwork while I sat with Edward and his puzzle.

He was calm, and seemed to feel comfortable, even though tomorrow will be his first day of school ever.  He liked the puzzle, but apart from putting two pieces together here and there, really couldn’t figure it out.  He put a corner piece in the wrong place, and I said, “Edward, you know what?  This kind of looks like a corner piece.  I think it might fit in this corner right here.”

He shook his head.  “Goes right here,” and he pointed, to two pieces that definitely did not fit together.

I tried again, and failed again, so I watched him.  The puzzle was a sensory experience for him, it seemed, not a logical experience.  When he was done he pointed to the toys on the shelf, and with my help, got out some unifix cubes.  While he played with cubes I put the puzzle together.  When I was done, he looked at it, amazed.

Miss Nelson told his mother about our walking field trip to the library for storytime tomorrow, and asked her to talk to Edward about it again tonight, so that he’d be prepared.

When it was time to leave, Edward said something unintelligible to Miss Nelson.  His mother came over to listen, and she translated:  “He wants to go to the library.”

Miss Nelson and his mother explained that the library trip is tomorrow, and he just stood there, with tears streaming down his face.  His mother said to me, shaking her head, “I knew this was going to happen.  He never wants to leave.”

So tomorrow, Edward starts in our class.  He can’t do puzzles, and has trouble with transitions, but he has a sweet face.  We’ll see how it goes.

what this fall has really been like October 15, 2008

I stayed late at school today for a meeting on Max.  His parents were there, as were a social worker, a psychologist, a therapist, a special ed administrator, an occupational therapist, a physical therapist, Miss Nelson, and me.  We all agreed that he is unable to be successful in my classroom, as had been hoped, and he will be moving in the next two or three weeks to a smaller classroom with more adult assistance. 

I feel sad about this, although I know it is the right thing for him.  I had never had any special ed students NOT make it in my classroom, and now all of a sudden I’ve had two.

But I got this email from Nan, who stopped by on Tuesday to pick up something she’d forgotten, and this really helps:

Dear Kiri;

I just had to drop a note to share with you an interesting observation
that I had today when I stopped in for my charger.  Somehow things
looked very different as an observer than they did when I was in the
thick of it. 

I only saw the class for a moment, but here is what
occurred to me.  I think as we have struggled with David and Max
and, now with Leo, although it has been very challenging for me,
it required nothing more of me than doing my job.  It is my job to try
and figure out how a child can adjust to a regular ed classroom.  What
had not occurred to me before, was with children that lack the skills
to operate in a regular education classroom, the effect on the
classroom teacher is they can not do their job. 

I think standing on the outside helped me see how frustrating it has been for you, such a talented teacher, to not be able to do your job due to the chaos.  Every teacher has to deal with behavior, but I believe that David and
Max are the first time we have not been able to manage things with
any level of success.  Poor Miss Nelson looked completely at wits end when I
looked her in the face.  You looked calm but although you continue to
run your class, Max running around is a tremendous distraction,
not just to the teachers but to  the students. 

I guess I am sharing this because it was surprising to gain
an “outsiders” perspective.  I want to reaffirm that your teaching and
your purposeful structure is good for students’ learning.  I am not
writing to weigh in on Max’s next steps, I am merely wanting to
remind you that how you teach and what you teach work.  I have seen it
time and time again.  It has helped bright children blossom, it has
helped remedial children gain, and it has helped many special ed
children with some pretty significant challenges. 

I know that the team will do well by Max and that he will either
succeed in your class or the team will find a placement where he will
succeed.  I just want to be sure, if seeds of doubt are creeping in
your mind, please remember that what you do is solid and that there is
a long history of success that should guide you.

I will be thinking of Max and the team as I move on.  I hope I can
consult with you when I don’t know what to do because I REALLY trust
your judgement.  I am truly grateful for all you have taught me
about education, team work, and children.

Thanks for four great years.  I am looking forward to that drink with
you and Ali.

Nan

 

 

 

 

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.

What parents do May 30, 2008

I mentioned M. once before — it was her birthday and I forgot to check the calendar, and missed it.  And she is so non-verbal most of the time that she never mentioned it. 

M. is one of my special ed children, with developmental delays, speech difficulties, and possibly some sensory stuff going on.  Lately she seems to be worse than ever.  The special ed teacher, sp. ed. assistant teacher, and my assistant teacher and I have all noticed that she seems to be going backward.  This is unusual — I take pride in the fact that my special ed children thrive in my classroom and make huge strides.  Two of my students this year are moving into regular ed for kindergarten next year.  But somehow with M. we are not making progress.  Today we were doing insect math and she was unable to recognize the numbers 1, 2, and 3.  She could count to five, but if she counted to three and I asked, “what comes next?” she had no idea.

One problem is that maybe her needs are so great that my classroom is just too overstimulating for her.  My classroom might not be the right place for her at all.  Next year for K she’ll be in a small classroom with all developmentally-delayed children, and it should be perfect for her. 

The title of this post, though, is “what parents do,” and I wonder just what M.’s parents are doing for her.  Her parents are very young, and both M. and her baby brother were very premature.  Ali has been to the apartment and says that there have been many police calls there in the past year for drug dealing and other problems.  M.’s mom hasn’t come to any of her IEP meetings or her transition meeting, and she still hasn’t even registered her for kindergarten.  Usually when we call her the phone is disconnected, and when we send out the social worker, nobody answers the bell.

How would M.’s life be different if her parents were different?  If her mom had been able to carry her full-term?  If her parents talked to her more?  If they gave in to her less?  (M. cries a lot as her main method of problem-solving.  We are guessing that it gets her what she wants when she’s at home.)

Then I look at Miss L., who is perhaps our biggest challenge this year.  Miss. L.’s parents are older, college-educated professionals with financial stability.  They have an incredibly hard road to go down with their youngest, for whom every day is a struggle.  I cannot imagine what she’d be like if she had parents without resources, without parenting skills.

And I wonder what M. would be like if she DID.