Summer beckons....

It's amazing how a few days of relative relaxation can foster a more creative mind. When I am as stressed and pressured as I have been since May, all of my capacity for inspiration dwindles. I move in a regulated, step-by-step pattern, focused on getting what needs to get done done. The trouble is, I hate my life when I'm in this kind of rut, and I am so much less a teacher than I want/need to be.

The good news is that I was able to channel some of the last energy I had toward making my daughter's graduation experience wonderful. She was tickled pink, very grateful, and that was sure nice to see.

In my younger years, I suspect I was more able to keep both school and home life moving with creativity and positive vibes. Maybe I was just more physically able to sustain the energy needed. Perhaps I am just fooling myself: it's ALWAYS hard to bring delight and excellence to every aspect of one's life.

In any case,

I am mulling some ideas for classroom research topics for next year. I am leaning toward doing something to boost reading achievement, and will soon begin earnestly exploring research-supported ideas. Any suggestions?

That's enough positive vibe and delight for one day.... I'm off to the pool.

Grateful that it's over.... for now.....

Do I end the year on a scholarly note and comment on the newest research to improve my teaching practice?

Does it make more sense to search the edu-news sites for wild stories worthy of my scathing analysis and caustic humor?

I could report on the way my kids handled the end of the year transition, and how my heart shuddered a bit as I said goodbye.

Instead, I think I will take a minute and express my thanks to my ED team colleagues who stood strong against the winds of change, always focused on what is right for kids. When resistance was called for, we rallied. When polite acceptance made sense, we did so. And when new opportunities beckoned, we weighed the benefits against the risk factors, and again, chose with an open heart.

I am grateful for my students who remind me that the inner spirit is at once vulnerable AND indominable.

I am grateful for my AP who seemed to "get me", even when I didn't "get" myself.

I'm grateful too, for my grade level team. They embraced me, laughed with and at me, and valued my work. Their expertise, committment to kids and to each other is inspiring.

Finally, I am grateful for the love and support shown by my family. They understood my need for a nap each day, even if that meant dinner was alittle late. They laughed and worried with me about my kids, and bragged about me to their friends.

They loved me even when I acted unlovable. Moodiness is a side effect of stress, and they let me off the hook for grumpy behavior more times than is fair.

And for the blogging community, they who share so easily, find joy in reporting and analysing, and never cease to have an opinion...... thank you for that!!!

The TO-DO List is a Killer....

One week and one day til the end of SY 2005-06.

One week until my youngest graduates from high school.

So many mixed emotions about these endings..... and the stress overload caused by massive amounts of paperwork and special activities is maddening. Awards ceremonies, field day, end of year parties, my families' many many graduation obligations, including baccalaureate, my daughter's graduation brunch for 35, the all night grad party, several family and friend graduation bashes.... no wonder I have been MIA from my blog.

On a happy note, my student George, the little guy from Mississippi (also known as "our Katrina kid") will be with us next year. His parents have wrangled their family situation so that their very emotionally fragile first grader can have the stability of continuing here.It's not been easy. The cost of living here in Northern Virginia can be daunting; the pace is never-ending. It's taken much planning and sacrifice for them to be able to stay in our area for one more year. Bless them for their loving commitment.

I'll hold this good feeling about George and his family with me tonight as I lay in bed, mulling the millions things left to get done. The good news is it'll all be over soon.

Distractions....

Things that distract a blogger from regular production:

* planning a party for local high school alumns in an effort to get help to plan a 30th reunion

* blogger's lovely *Hokie Girl* is full out involved in pre-prom activities, including dress shopping, alterations, coordinating dinner plans for 24, and limo aquisition. Next up: graduation festivities

*attending local country music fest reminds said blogger of the hassle of sitting on the lawn among thousands of heavy smokers, drunk teenagers, short-tempered rednecks, and kissing couples who "need to get a room"!

*students and teachers enter the dreaded testing window for state testing and various other required assessments..... anxiety surges, moodiness swells, exhaustion creeps in. Blogger and colleagues try to remind each other why we chose this job in the first place!

So for now, I'm taking everything day by day. Breathe in. Breathe out. I'll return to my more regular blogging ways in due time!!!

Joanne Jacobs is coming......

I ordered Joanne Jacobs' book before it came out because I knew (from her blog) that she's definetly had something to say. She's coming to the area to talk.... and the lucky ones will take the time to go and listen. Here is her info, in her own words:

"I’ll speak and sign books on Thursday, May 11 at 5:30 pm at William E. Doar Jr. (WEDJ) Public Charter School for the Performing Arts, 705 Edgewood St. NE, Washington, DC (near the Rhode Island and Brookland-CUA metro stops). In addition, the school’s musical troupe will perform and I’ll ask guests to donate a children’s book to the school library.


Founded in 2004, WEDJ School enrolls students from all over the city. Students take classes in music, dance and theater and perform in at least one public exhibition or performance each year. A longer school day and Saturday classes ensure enough time for academics and arts. Currently an elementary, the school is adding middle and high school classes in the fall.


On Wednesday, May 17 at 5:30 pm, I’ll speak at Russell Byers Charter School, 1911 Arch St., in downtown Philadelphia. I'll also do a "bookraiser" for the school's library.


Founded in 2001, the school educates children in kindergarten (a two-year program starting at age four) through sixth grade using the Expeditionary Learning Outward Bound program. The school was created to honor the memory of Russell Byers, a Daily News columnist killed in a mugging.


Both the Washington and Philadelphia charter schools primarily serve black students. “Our School” follows the principal, teachers and students at Downtown College Prep, a San Jose charter high school that’s 90 percent Hispanic. Most students come from Spanish-speaking immigrant families; most earned D’s and F’s in middle school and enter ninth grade with fifth-grade reading and math skills. They were left behind academically but promoted anyhow. Operating with a work-your-butt-off philosophy, Downtown College Prep now outscores the average California high school on the state’s Academic Performance Index and sends all graduates to four-year colleges.


After 19 years as a San Jose Mercury News editorial writer and Knight Ridder columnist, I quit in 2001 to freelance, start an education blog at joannejacobs.com and report and write “Our School.”


I think “Our School” enables readers to step inside a charter school that’s struggling, learning from mistakes, adapting and improving. "


-- Joanne Jacobs
ourschoolbook.com
joannejacobs.com




Reviews
“Joanne Jacobs's "Our School," a vivid account of the creation and first years of a charter high school in San Jose, Calif., . . . reads like a novel whose characters are both stereotypical and improbable. . . But this isn't fiction. The challenges are real, the stakes high, the lessons important -- and the achievements extraordinary.”
-- Henry Miller, Wall Street Journal, Nov. 17, 2005

The Carnival of Education

This week's edition of The Carnival of Education went up Wednesday. Check it out. There's no better place to get a variety of opinions about education!

The long walk down the hall .....

Sometimes I just have to give myself a break.

I was beating myself up today because I just haven't been able to make headway with a small group of my kids who just can't seem to get the basics of money. They mix up the coins, their value, forget to add on or just plain add wrong. Even with supports like wall posters, number charts, etc., it's just taking so daaaarrrrnnnn lllloooonnnnngggg!!

When my more reasonable side took hold, I remembered that 2 of the 5 kids have severe processing deficits, and, OF COURSE, for them, it will take longer for the concepts to gel. A third child has been absent so much she has missed any sense of continuity of instruction, and the last child often sleeps through Math because of his afternoon meds. His little nap doesn't usually cause a big problem, because I am able to catch him up easily at another time. But he's having trouble with the memorizing needed to identify the coins and match their value. So the challenges continue.

Reasonable or not, I felt like a crummy teacher this afternoon.

I've used all kinds of strategies, including using real coins and playing store, lots of singing songs adapted to teach the names and value of the coins, "drill and kill" (not very successful at this point), peer coaching, whole group and one-on-one instruction, playing money games that teach trading and adding money.... and still we flounder.

My next step? Wander on down the hall to veteran first grade teacher Mrs. A, and get her take on the problem. What other strategies does she use? Her kids are ready for the chapter test... what exactly did she do differently that brought such success. Mrs. A, just what am I missing??

In retrospect, that walk down the hall I plan to take is one way I know I am not such a crummy teacher after all. Crummy teachers don't take the time to think through their challenges and ASK FOR HELP!!

Teaching is hard, and because I have been doing it a long time and fairly well, I forget just how hard it can be. Thank goodness I have my colleagues to turn to. Thank goodness my school is a collaborative learning space, and asking for help is encouraged and honored.

Thank goodness for teachers like Mrs. A.

To expell or not to expell....

A raging child throws over a chair. Another child's tantrum spirals as he kicks his teacher. Another aims a firm push on her teacher's shoulder.

None of these behaviors are acceptable. But in our special program for children with emotional disabilities, they are not uncommmon. We are used to dealing with reactive, aggressive students. But in the interest of building an environment that supports both trust and learning, aggressive behavior must be dealt with swiftly and consistently. We do that, for the most part, everyday, using strong preventative measures AND effective consequences.

I, for one, need to feel everything is being done that can be done in order for me, my colleagues, and our students to be safe. It's just unrealistic, though, to think we will not be subjected to dangerous situations, no matter what kind of preventative programs we put into place.

It comes down to this: it's part of the job.

But when our overtly aggressive students lose their already tenuous grip on rationality, how can we say their reactions are NOT caused by their disability?

That happened this week in a hearing about one of our students who threw a chair directly at a staff member in anger, and then hit her in the face with a closed fist.

While the psychologist who works with the child and his family saw a clear connection between his behavior and his disability, and his teacher agreed, the other two school admin types on the committee voted NOT CAUSAL.... and the child is expelled.

Now, I'm not saying this child should be allowed to return to our program. I'm in agreement that homebound services might be helpful in the short term until a more appropriate placement can be found. And since, even though he is expelled, the county continues to be responsible for providing services for him, I think the whole expulsion issue teeters on nonsense.

But in handing down this decision, the child and his family have lost the one positive connection they had as they struggled through the most horrific kinds of home dysfunction. Ultimately, the child is uprooted, the parent is abandoned.

The powers-that-be say that despite a medical diagnosis and the assertions of the school professionals who work most closely with this child, his emotional disabilities DID NOT cause his aggressive reaction.

He's gone.

Why don't I feel any safer?

Detention unveiled....

It appears my description of “detention” as implemented in our ED program has left the venerable Dr. John at EBD Blog “at sea”!! He’s right though, I did kind of tiptoe around it all.

See if this helps:

Today Calvin was in our crisis room, sitting at a desk in a study carrel with the counselor, discussing the incident that sent him there: when Calvin was directed to go to his desk after morning circle time, he lingered with unrestrained defiance. The other children complied, and the IA made a verbal comment complimenting one of them specifically. At that point, Calvin jumped up and ran at the complimented child, grabbed his face (yes, grabbed, with both hands, taking hold of plump cheeks and nose parts.)

The IA got there before great damage was done, separated the boys, and walked with Calvin to the crisis room. I got the great job of hugging the hurt fella and getting him the TLC he needed.

While in the crisis room, the counselor and Calvin talked a bit, and she determined he wasn’t really “available” yet to be constructive. He demanded the use of a rubber ball, and when she redirected him, he bolted out the door and ran down the hall with reckless abandon. Then, fortuitously or unfortunately, Calvin tripped, fell to the carpeted floor and began to cry loudly. Our counselor helped him to his feet and walked him back to her office.

Her intervention lasted about 20 minutes more, and included a structured 5 minute time out, some time to use the putty for relaxation, and talking through a plan for next time. Our experience with Calvin is that he is highly anxious, often thinks irrationally, and takes a long time to truly settle down. So when he reentered the classroom, he sat at a desk near the coat closet, a bit away from the group. I set a visual timer for 15 minutes, and went over the expectations with him: “No talking or getting up. Draw or read quietly if you choose. Use this time to show us you are ready to put on your listening ears and come back to the group.”

With a minor blip in the routine—Calvin got up to sharpen his pencil, and twice called out to me—he completed his detention time successfully, was heartily invited back to the group where he immediately went to the other boy and apologized/hugged him.

Those extra minutes at the desk really work for most of our kids. Traditional short timeouts are often just not enough time for them to physically settle enough to get back to the stimulating classroom environment. The trick is to find the right balance of extended time so effectiveness is not diminished.

I hope this is a bit clearer. It’s a process, one created by caring and respectful teachers over several years time. It’s really not a detention, more like a last phase of recovery in the crisis cycle. But it works. Targeted behaviors are reduced. Kids are successfully returned to class and instruction. If it didn’t, we would change the procedure, find another way. That’s key to being effective, right?!!!

Can detention really help?

At least bi weekly, we of the ED staff meet together for something we call "Collegial Support". We brainstorm about our students, always with an eye toward improving our approach to instruction and to behavior management. It's a cool forum for supporting each other AND making school a more successful experience for our challenging students.

Recently, an administrator questioned the implementation of a teacher's detention policy, and that got us all to thinking about the value of using detention as part of our continuim of strategies. Because the first step to working through questions about policy is to clearly define and describe, I decided to put to writing my use of detention in my classroom. Here is a copy:

DETENTION Policy and Procedures


Detention is the last phase of a multi-step intervention strategy designed to address dangerous /unsafe behaviors. It is the period of time after a child has moved through the crisis cycle, and is ready to demonstrate behaviors incompatible with the negative, inappropriate behavior previously noted.

Because our emotionally labile students often need more time than the average child to truly settle down, the designated detention time (15-30 minutes depending on the child) is necessary to ensure their success in the next activity.


Unsafe behavior is defined in terms of potential for injury. When a child throws a lego to the ground in frustration, and it is determined that the child was not attempting to injure another, that behavior is not generally deemed “unsafe”. The same lego piece hurled across the room with the apparent goal of striking another person, is, indeed, a dangerous behavior. Moreover, the second behavior, even if it does not hit its mark, works to make the overall climate FEEL unsafe, and we often keep this in mind as we address concerns.


Detention is always part of an intervention strategy directed toward returning the child safely to the classroom setting. As a phase of the de-escalation process, it is child-centered; that is, it meets the immediate needs of a previously out of control child. Detention time provides a generally quieter setting for kids to settle their body/self monitor. It’s a reality: our emotionally labile students usually need more time than the average child to physically settle. There is a legitimate argument to be made for less than thirty minutes for some children (I often reduce the time for my younger students), but for the purposes of consistency and perceived fairness, we in our ED program have generally stuck to the 30 minute time block. Older children who are completing a written plan often use their 30 minutes to finish. Detention in another classroom or space often removes the child from the stimulus that caused agitation, provides a safe area to redirect their attention, and helps to re-establish boundaries. When the requirements of a detention are clearly explained and adhered to, children are likely to experience a reduction of anxiety. Self-monitoring can become a focus, as students work to demonstrate appropriate school behavior, especially with regard to unsafe or disruptive behaviors.

It is my experience that without the clear, consistent, effective detention process, we are setting our children up for repeated failure. The full passage of detention time is one important sign that a child is truly capable of pulling himself together. The ability to demonstrate behaviors incompatible with tantruming is key to reading a child’s “emotional temperature”. Sending a child back to the challenges of class, or to the particular stresses of art, music and pe WITHOUT the full detention process behind him/her appears irresponsible.

Perhaps what is needed then, is a name change. Call it Phase 5? The final phase? Recovery? Whichever, the final phase of the de-escalation process is so much more than a consequence, and supports our goal to help students settle and return to class successfully.

As always, thanks for reading my blog.

It's Wednesday, and I'm still not relaxed!

So it's day three of my spring break, and I am still unable to settle myself and get relaxed. Instead, I piddle around the house, plan shopping expeditions, reorganize closets, think about plans for next week.. all fun and constructive activities, yes. But my mind is still buzzing, my focus still centered on DOING, DOING,DOING.

In years past, when my kids were young, I took this week as a chance to "act as if". That is, I happily slid into the AT-HOME MOMMY mode I secretly coveted. I used the time to enjoy my kids all day long, sans daycare, and I loved it. Yes, we moved in a more relaxed manner throughout our day (no early morning rush out of the house), but real relaxation escaped me, and rightly so. It was all about the kids.

Now, #1 Son doesn't need me (work and grad school keep him busy), and Hokie Girl is wrapped up in the fun of being a high school senior (my social butterfly). This is more or less MY TIME, and I've been unable to use it to the fullest.

I've got to ask myself why.

Habit? Is it just too hard to break the cycle of doing? Are my expectations for relaxation too high?

Fear? Is the silence of the quiet moment too scary? In silence, will I find something I don't want to know?

A good question for another day, another vacation.

In either case, I can't help it. My thoughts wind their way back to the kids and to my teaching, even as I try to leave it all behind. This is probably a good thing. Being a teacher is, after all, something you are, not just something you do.

A Provacative Message

Seen on the back bumper of a car last night:

A Child Is More Than
A Testscore

Buck up, Mrs. Ris

"So why was it such a hard day?" my sweet husband asked with a caring lilt to his voice.

Well..... Mikee wanted our complete attention from the moment he arrived to class, and he stuck his tongue out at any other child who got some. This started the tattling, the worried frenzy of whining and complaining and moving around the room with anxious energy.... and then one kid scratched another kid's ear and you would have thought the ear had been Van Gogh-ed for all the crying and dramatics, and the scratCHER was gleeful, which set off another series of frenzied whining and complaining and moving about the room with anxious energy.....

The wonderful social worker who comes in for a social skills group on Friday mornings either "ignored" or missed my non-verbal cue about separating Mikee and the kid with the scratched ear during her lesson..... chaos ensued. Predictable chaos is lots worse than surprise chaos. I mean... it could have been avoided and is therefore waaaayyyy more annoying.

Geraldine whined all through writing workshop, or barked at me in her best "ghetto girl in charge" voice.... I don't know which is worse. The combination sucked the life out of me. Happily, she got 5 sentences down on paper. Amazing.

The new kid is so smart and interesting, but quiet, and I have to make a gallant concerted effort to check in with him one on one or he'll get lost to all the other "squeaky wheels" in our class. This one, new, small thing feels like a tipping point. Tipping, as in, I just might start screaming and never stop if I can't get a moment of peace and quiet where I don't feel ravaged by their needs. Oh, wait. That'll happen when I get home tonight. Until then, I buck up and give my best and more.

They all deserve it.

A Basket Case of a Different Kind

I’ve been thinking about the philosophy of Dr. Ross Greene, a doctor/author who is known for his advice to schools and families about kids with Oppositional Defiant Disorder. My student Clarke is highly explosive, especially toward the end of the day when he is less able to manage the frustrations of routine school demands. He just seems “done” with it all, unable to moderate his reactions or temper his impulses for one more minute. He gets a recently altered noon-time dose of his meds, so I don’t have much evidence that it is a med related problem. It really does seem like he is on overload, unable at his tender age of 7 to do much more to stay settled and on track.

So, of course, I am left to ponder my role in helping him to manage that last hour of the day.

Just last week I implemented a different plan for Clarke, one that incorporates Greene’s idea of establishing priorities; that is, defining exactly what issues I can let slide that last part of the day, and which issues cannot be ignored due to safety.

Greene frames his priority plan in terms of “BASKETS”. Some behaviors like sassiness and refusals (as in ignoring directions to go to the time-out desk or refusing to complete a written assignment) are low priority, and are “placed” in a low priority “Basket”. I can ignore his behavior, and delay intervention until the next morning when he is capable of processing the situation without a crisis. Dangerous behavior is a high priority “Basket” behavior, and requires immediate intervention, even though it means he melts-down and escalates through the crisis mode. The probable crisis is deemed “worth it” because others or he, himself were injured ….or were at risk for injury.

I used this Basket 1 intervention last week when Clarke got very sassy, even threatening in tone. I reminded him it’s not okay to talk to me that way, and he stopped, put his head down on his desk and grumbled once or twice. When he kicked at his desk twice in the next minute or so, I directed him to the crisis room for processing/intervention, etc. He ignored my direction, and remained seated, head down, and the kicking ceased.

I looked at the clock. 2:05. Of course.

I “let it go”….. Clarke remained at his seat as his classmates left the room for end of the day recess. He even appeared to have fallen asleep. But when the kids re-entered and dismissal routines began, he calmly raised his head and followed directions amiably.

He was able to accept his point sheet with loss of points for that time of day, pack up, and get on the bus without a fuss.

I resisted any direct interaction with him, aside from what was required by the routines in place. It was hard. I am one who generally believes consistency is gold. But I wrote myself a note to remember to deal with the breach at the start of the next day….

That next morning on arrival, Clarke accepted his timeout consequence, including an extended detention time for “being out of his assigned space”. He processed calmly. It felt like a successful intervention, but with only a few days in, I can only hope long term, this is an effective solution.

The question then becomes “Effective for who?” Clearly, this was a satisfactory solution for me: there was no physical aggressiveness, no major tantrum, no chance he’d miss his bus home due to his behavior. But does this approach reinforce his negative behavior and thereby increase it overtime?

Or will this approach offer Clarke the chance to self-regulate his behavior as the year goes on? If time and maturity are the keys to Clarke’s improved behavior, then this framework should be successful. We will see.

You've Been Wondering About the Mystery Clues? Of Course You Have!!

It was in the 70's during the day-- break out the suncreen, we're FEELING HOT!

We sure felt like SOUTHERN BELLES as we competed against teams from CA, Utah, NY...

That FAMOUS MOUSE, Mickey, greeted us with open arms each day we headed off to the Disney parks!

It was Nationals, an invitational dance team competition that took my attention away for awhile there.

It took 2 days to plan for my 3 days of absence from school, then 3 more days to get back into the swing of things once we did get back.... and now I'm just too exhausted to do any critical thinking or witty reporting.

Just know we learned the value of "having the experience"... ahem, we didn't exactly bowl the judges over. But we did have fun!!

It's a guessing game!

Guess where I have been, thereby justifying my inattention to this blog, my favorite hobby?

Clues:

Feeling hot
Southern Belles
Famous Mouse

22 high school dancers in 6 rooms and a big bottle of Excedrin!!

Wanna Know a Secret?

Pssst. Psssst.

Don't tell anyone. On Wednesday, the mystery reader who comes on our elementary school's daily news program... well, that mystery reader is ME!

Read Across America Week Begins....

In celebration of Dr. Seuss, reading in general, and NEA's outreach/public relations efforts:

It is now READ ACROSS AMERICA week!!!

An employee from our local power company came and read to the class today. Too bad she had little expression in her voice and had no idea about holding the book up for the kids to see AS she reads. Still, the kids ( 4 of them in attendance) were polite. Small favors.....

In accordance with the theme, enjoy these cute pictures of my kids reading, reading, reading!!

On The Power to Overcome Obstacles....

One way I am able to manage myself and my response to my emotionally disabled students is to meditate daily. I try to pray for a peacefulness, a centeredness that will allow me to do my best everyday, despite the terrible stress and frequent disappointments.

(Not surprisingly, I have found a source on the web, A BLOG no less, that supports me in my daily work. Ever a fan of Thomas Merton, this site includes Merton's wise words as well as daily prayers )

Anyway, this one small prayer, 7 short words, hit me hard last night as I went searching for guidance and peace.

Lord, help me not be an obstacle.

Somedays, that's all I can ask for.


1. When the angry parent calls, help me keep a calm voice, and open heart. The last thing I need is a defensive posture. Give me the wisdom to know when it’s time to refer the call to my principal.

2. When I feel overburdened, overtired, and underappreciated, let me remember why I am here: not for ease, or comfort, or accolades. I am here for the child who is fighting everyday to overcome the ravages of emotional disabilities, abuse issues, and worse. The pain he inflicts is never more than the pain he suffers each and every moment of the day.

3. When fellow teachers fall short of our highest expectations, when they appear to give less than is possible, help me see that we often only do as much as we can. Compassion for their challenges just might be the open door to supporting change.

4. Finally, help me make right-minded, ethical choices as I move through my day, always mindful of the power I have over my students’ school life.

I know it's not for everyone, but I need all the help I can get!!

The gift that keeps on giving.... time to think.

At the end of the day, when the final lesson plans are scribbled and the materials are pulled together for tomorrow's day, I have to sit back and contemplate a very important question:

What did I do today that will make a difference tomorrow?

Without this moment of reflection, I am likely to breathe in slowly, close my plan book, and leave for home still spent from the day's challenges. I'll feel more drained, possibly even mistreated, or worse, ineffective. I'll hear again and again the curses, the whining and complaining, the moments of dispair and retreat.

But when I focus on the good in my day, I am reminded why I do what I do, and for whom I am focused.

Today, Tuesday, the day after our President's Day holiday, I....

Strengthened my rep as a person worthy of my students' trust: When first grader Belle came into the classroom this morning in tears, scared about getting in trouble at home and with the principal because she brought a (broken) cell phone to school, I arraigned to be able to get down to the office and get all the details. I was able to get a colleague to cover the class, find an administrator, figure out the facts of the situation, and come back to Belle and help her understand the problem and the consequences. By attending to her worries as soon as possible, I probably held off a major tantrum, lots of anxiety, and loss of learning time. Moreover, I reinforced to Belle how really important she is to us. She is closer to knowing for sure that we will do all we can to help her understand, make a plan for improvement, and accept her consequences.


Used information from an informal assessment to plan and teach a strong lesson on number patterns on a 100 chart: I noticed last week that Belle and Mike had big time trouble really understanding the value of double digit numbers to 100; the numbers in sequence appear random rather than part of a pattern. I pulled some supplementary materials, talked to a colleague, and came up with a set of fun activities to help these two really get a handle on that all important "number sense". That feels good.

And finally,...I

Held 3 reading conferences using phonics based, research proven materials: With the support of the LD teacher, I have been using a series of leveled mini books for guided reading and reading conferences. For 3 of my kids today, these books and the individual time I was able to give them made a difference in their skill levels and their confidence levels. I closed the folder at the end of the conferences feeling wonderful! Moreover,the kids felt like readers!!!


So tomorrow, at days' end, no matter my schedule or my after school obligations, I will again take that quiet minute to identify the best parts of my day.

It keeps me coming back.

General Education and the IEP process: a high school teacher's perspective

Link here to some ideas from Coach Brown re implementing IEP's in the general education classroom. I find real value in his insight, and appreciate the difficulty faced when gen ed teachers are handed IEP's they had no voice in creating.


Also relevant: his perception of the parent factor.....

"The parents have absolute sway once the document is implemented, so teachers that have a gripe about unreasonable modifications are pretty powerless. I had a minor incident this year where a parent thought that I wasn't going "all the way" with their child's modifications. I explained that a child in a college prep class should do more than fine with my implementation of the IEP. When they started to snarl, I backed off. It wasn't worth the potential distraction that it could create. "


I appreciate Coach Brown's advise not to hassle the spec ed teacher who is responsible for the paperwork, etc. However, the spec ed teacher does need and probably wants your input. It's best practice for a reason.


He also stipulates "Stand up for your classroom while in the IEP (management style, class policy, etc), but never say "I will not do that". It alienates everyone in attendance." That's a good reminder for all of us involved in the creation of this important document. Moreover, the focus needs to be on what is needed for the student to succeed.... not a referendum on the management style of a particular teacher.

May I add?.... instead of trying for "vague" accomodations, approach the idea of support with a very focused eye. Of course the accomodations must be "doable", but more importantly, they must be tailored to that child's needs. If you keep to what this kid requires based on his/her disability, going overboard is not likely. Maybe I am an optimist.

Lastly, he's right.....-"Document everything". Again, best practice.

On becoming a SERIOUS educator....

Over at Education Wonks, the main man reports and comments on the latest information coming out of Madame Spellings' office. She is asking of educators and those interested in school reform: "Let's get serious".

(Check here for the info and Edwonks very astute read on what's missing from Ms. Spellings' plans.)

Immediately I was reminded of a comparison I recently made between my current teaching practice and my less effective, less focused teaching of years past. Previously I noted that with the advent of NCLB, my teaching skills improved because of newly acquired data about my students learning. That is, with closer, more frequent assessment required by my school as part of our statewide response to NCLB, I can target areas of weakness, revamp plans and strategies for meeting all my students' competing needs, and therefore do a better job overall.

It feels fine for me to say I am now MORE FOCUSED....MORE TARGETED....MORE SUCCESSFUL.

It does not, however, feel okay when Ms. Spellings identifies these changes as a result of my finally "getting serious". If she thinks I was not serious about teaching/ learning in the past, she just doesn't get teachers. I've met only a handful of teachers in 20 years who were not serious about their teaching. Being SERIOUS is not the problem. It's about being effective, about knowing (not guessing) what works and what doesn't, and getting the support to put all of it into place.

Serious? Who is she kidding? Did she think I wasn't serious my first year of teaching when I stayed until 6:30 every night to plan for my 5 preps for 12 Behaviorally Maladjusted highschoolers who came to class doped up, criminally inclined, damaged and abused, or worse. I left that school after one year, and I am very sure none of the boys I taught graduated. I was certainly not effective; I was definetly serious.

Was seriousness a problem when I taught a small class of general education kindergartners at a private school? I followed the school's curriculum, organized learning and play centers as advised by the school's specialists,and worked very long hours in preparation. In earnest, I faithfully met with parents and my teaching colleagues. Looking back, I see so many holes in my teaching. It's alittle embarrassing. But no one can question my seriousness about my job and my obligations.

So the next time the powers that be make a call to arms, when Ms. Spellings or any of the government's education reform experts want to embolden teachers to forge on, do better, make a difference..... please, don't question my seriousness.

That makes me SERIOUSLY want to scream!

Gratitude for small blessings....

Hi ya'll!

It's been a good day overall. I don't usually come to my blog to report a good day, but here I am. With the Grammy's on, I'm chilling in my bed, me and my beautiful dog Cayenne, and I'm thinking about how to make tomorrow a better day.









But first, a moment to savor the good news:

For 2 days straight I have been successful in getting my very ADHD, very oppositional, manipulative sweetiepie to sit down... yes, sit down.. with me to begin to learn how to add to sets to 6. It's basic early first grade work, and we are just now getting to it. Yes, it was one-on-one, completed in just under ten minutes (an extension of his regular attention span), and I had a bag of gummy bears in my pocket as leverage. I will use whatever is at my disposal to hook this little one.

It felt good.

One little boy was able to finally accept our much practiced cues and redirection to stop crying/whining. Instead, he used his words to describe his problem/feelings. It's a big step in his emotional development, and a real breakthrough for all of us around him who are just tired of hearing his crying at the drop of a hat.

Sigh. Smile.

Derek really really really tried to make good behavior choices throughout the day, and it's not easy for him with all of his negative, even scary thinking messing up his brain. He keeps a tight lid on his psychotic thoughts, so tight he sometimes looks like he'll forget to breathe. Today he made it through with a smile on his face for much of the day. A miracle.

Praise God.

Lastly, I ended the day in a surprisingly positive way. As part of the requirement to become HIGHLY QUALIFIED, I am made to take a science class.... even though I have been teaching the early primary science curriculum for over 15 years. DON'T GET ME STARTED!! But..... the class turned out to be great. I learned alot, deepened my understanding of the various units I'm so familiar with, and have some new things I plan to try with my class in the next week or so. The three hours went by rather quickly; the instructor was talented and very knowledgable. If I HAVE to take this kind of class as a means to an end, at least it's not a total bust.

Tomorrow is another day, another chance to make a difference. I'll sleep well tonight knowing that the few wonderful, bright moments can keep me going!

Thanks for reading my blog. I appreciate your comments!

So she slept through language arts and math....

There's been a flu bug going around the school. The kind that keeps you in the bathroom, wishing you could just end it all rather than spend one more minute on the cold, hard, ceramic tile floor just inches away from the toilet.....


So when my little first grader came down with stomach cramps on Friday, and spent a long time in the bathroom TWICE, I was sure we'd be sending her home within the hour. But she didn't have diarrhea, no fever, just a debilitating tummy ache. Most kids' parents would want to be called if their child was in this kind of discomfort. I certainly can't teach a little one who can't concentrate because she feels sick. But this mom does not want to be called unless it is a real emergency. You know, the kind of illness that fits the guidelines for MUST GO HOME NOW: fever, throwing up, stitches required, etc.

So little first grader lay sprawled on the bean bag for several hours, in and out of sleep, all the while wondering why I wasn't making her mom come pick her up.

This happens a lot. Kids don't get enough sleep, they sleep during the day. Kids' meds are wrong, they get sleepy, they sleep during the day. They don't get breakfast at home, and they arrive at school too late for school breakfast, so they eat in the classroom (from reserves we collect just for this purpose). They come in clothes not appropriate to the weather/season. We lend them clothes from our stash. I've duck-tapped shoes, bought toothpaste and toothbrushes for kids with chronic bad breath, slipped kids extra food to take home to their siblings when none of them are getting enough. I buy them children's books to take home, as well as crayons, paper, tape, scissors.

If you are a teacher reading this blog, you probably have your stories to tell too. It's something we all end up doing because we care about the kids. It's just counter-productive to withhold supplies, books, clothing, even sleep and food. And so the cycle continues.

The folks who say that our school problems can be solved without addressing issues of poverty don't want us to use poverty as an excuse to stop trying. I get that. But poverty continues to do it's damage whether the experts admit it or not.

And we good, caring teachers will continue to try and mitigate the damage as we seek to teach our charges to the highest of standards.

The importance of the back-up plan.....

Every since we started back after the new year, David has been a mess. A sprite of a boy, he walks around with his arms in flex, looking ready to bolt at any moment.

"I'm fast," he declares with pride. And he is.

The thing is, he tells us this at least five or six times a day, every day. Makes me wonder what he is running from.

He spent a good part of the month of January in crisis. Nearly every routine direction brought on tears or loud denunciations. His play has been more aggressive; his ability to settle himself fleeting. He's not very interested in playing with his classmates, and any thought of writing on paper sends him packing!

"I'm fast."

According to his mom, all is well at home, no major changes or challenges. No meds change-- no reason for any of this. She, too, sees a regression, though only slight, in his ability to sit and listen to her and work out his feelings.

She suggested we make sure he's not hungry when he is fussy, and keep concentrating on helping him talk about his concerns.

Good advise. Still, the concerns remained.

So we put into place a few changes:

We now start his day with breakfast, even if he ate at home. He is welcome to eat his snack if he feels hungry throughout the day.

He is encouraged to use as many self-referral passes to the counselor as he needs. We hope to stave off full blown tantrums by helping him identify when he is beginning to feel stressed. When you are five, dealing with the BIGNESS of your angry feelings can be just too much to bear. (A reminder card is taped to his desk showing a picture of a pass!)

We are using a gestural cue to gently remind him to do what the teacher says: You put a hand at each ear and pretend you are turning volume knobs on a radio. "Check your listening ears, big guy!!" we chirp! He likes this. He smiles, imitates us, tries to comply, and we praise liberally. This is what I did with my own children at home when they were two and three.

We are offering choices, choices, choices, all day long, to help him feel more in control of his day. Sit here with us or choose your desk. Pick a book from the library or draw in your journal. Put your toy on the shelf or place it in your save box.



He started his day today with the grumpiest face I have ever seen. I caught sight of him storming down the hall; it was almost comical in its exaggeration. I met him half way with a huge hug, and he mumbled into my stomach "I need a new school. I need a new day care. I need to go home."

Surprisingly, we made it through the day, and his last words as he headed out of the classroom at dismissal: "I love you."

Yep, I love my job.

The Report Card Blues

Like the majority of public school teachers, I've been busying myself with report cards lately. Checking grades for 7 kids is not daunting, and because of the small number, I'm usually pretty sure, even before hand, how well the children have been learning.

Like many special education teachers, I find our report card forms completely inadequate. When my little kids are working below grade level (some significantly so), and their IEP goals outline the course I need to take with regard to academics, the ACHIEVEMENT and EFFORT blocks do not quite do the job. Is is achievement, based on the IEP, or achievement based on the standards set by the county/state?

And worse is the section on citizenship. Most of my ED kids NEED IMPROVEMENT in all these areas, and some even improve a bit over the course of a school year.... and yet, improvement is still necessary. The N in the report card box signifies a kind of failure, and still my student may have made significant improvement according to his IEP. Clearly, the report card form just doesn't work for all students.

So, I'll fill out all the N's as necessary, send home IEP update forms that speak more fully to the child's progress.... double the work for not double the information.

Here's the reality. The daily point sheet, sent home, well, daily, gives the parents the most clear indication of their child's day. The graded work I send home weekly lets them know what their child is learning and how well. That's the kind of assessment that provides information parents can use.

Targeting our hardest to reach students...

We had a... ahem... a rather productive professional development meeting this afternoon.

I know. A shocker.

I had been dreading it all day, the prospect of spending 2 hours after school (on our short day, thank goodness)with my equally cynical, distracted teaching colleagues. Let's face it, with so much planning to finish, so much differentiating of instruction and adapting to meet special needs required, I hate giving up my Monday afternoons to group meetings.

I even considered getting sick and going home to do my planning. Just for a fleeting minute. Really, I'm not a slacker.

But this meeting was different. The goals were directly tied to the areas of instruction we as a school need to focus on (based on last year's state testing scores). We divided into smaller, more workable, intimate groups. Teachers who have the same issues and concerns that we do led the groups (not out-of-touch administrators). We practiced as a group the very planning strategies we are now asked to implement as we remediate our toughest students. All in all, a very good use of my time. In fact, I have already made a change to my daily plan for tomorrow based on the suggestions gleened today.


And the most important aspect of all: as we considered the various activities we can plan in order to meet the state objectives while concentrating on the higher order thinking skills necessary for success on the state test, we challenged ourselves to consider the most unavailable of our students. Ms. Mary the kindergarten teacher played Devil's Advocate and helped us "keep it real". She was quick to point out that we had to keep refocusing on how the hardest to reach can be reached.

Our solution: committ to organizing our classrooms for small group instruction that tailors instructional methods to the strengths and weaknesses of that particular group of kids. Differentiate. Differentiate. Differentiate.

My "take away moment": the various verbs listed under the objectives that remind us to teach kids to analyze...summarize.....classify....design.... create..... explain ... order.... formulate... compose.... modify... substitute... compare...
instead of merely identify and recall. I will be keeping this list of verbs handy to remind myself to reach, reach, reach.

Obstacles to success....

We face all kinds of obstacles as we seek to move our students through the established curriculum: gaps in knowledge that stop a kid dead in his tracks ("What is this tens and ones stuff?"), severe attention issues, deeply ingrained oppostitional behavior, the distractions provided by the other kids ("Use your ignoring skills, honey; he's eating his boogers on purpose to bug you.") poor nutrition and sleep patterns.... and then the most destructive obstracle--- non-availability for learning due to their pervasive emotional and mental health problems.

And then, the most frustrating obstacle of all---non-responsive or over reactive parent response.

Now, this is where my general education colleagues really share my pain. Parent problems impact all of our teaching lives.

Here's my story of the week:

Sweetie-pie arrives at school, and immediately invited to walk to the counselor's room to settle. He's volatile, throwing his body around impulsively, yelling out both silly and combative things at students and staff, knocking the counselor's stuff off the desk, kicking desks and the wall.... obviously, not ready to be at school. When, 30 minutes later he is still in this frenzied state, he says that he has not had his meds. ("Uncle Johnny forgot to give them to me. Mom was at work and Grandma was gone too.")

The principal called all the contact numbers, but no one answered. She left messages, fully aware that, based on previous experience, a call back was unlikely. We were on our own.

Thank God for our crisis counselor. Because of her (and the staffing formula that allows for the use of one teaching position as a behavior support resource), I was able to teach the children who remained in class. I checked in on Sweetie-Pie and the counselor every 10-20 minutes or so, provided verbal support, and prayed we'd get a call back from the family.

Halfway through the morning, S-Pie's aunt arrived with a baggie of meds. The second S-Pie saw the pills in auntie's hand, he asked pointedly "Where's the blue one?"
"Don't got that one. Here, take these."

My heart sank. I swear, she gave him a generic brown ibruprophin tablet and a white aspirin caplet. I've seen this child's meds before, and these weren't it. And the Grandma once told me the blue one was for his explosiveness.

We were screwed.

I prayed for the placebo effect.

We set up the conference room with books, crayons and paper, a stuffed animal, a bean bag chair and his coat. He snuggled under the long wooden table for 45 minutes, slept on and off, paced around a bit, and tried very very hard to settle himself. He joined our class for lunch, indoor recess and DEAR time, all the while closely watched by me and the IA's. A mid-afternoon meltdown sent him back to the counselor's; he remained there til the last half hour of the day.

It was miserable for him AND for us.

It didn't have to be this way.

But I'd bet a month's salary it'll happen again at least once before the end of this school year.

Sing.... sing a song..... sing it loud......

One of my favorite, syrupy sweet, amazing moments of each day:

As the children gather on the carpet, in a circle around the rocker in which I sit, they usually smile up at me or at each other. Because the kids know they have the option to move to their desk rather than participate, the ones who choose to remain often have a great attitude! I break into song-- me and my craggy, unpolished voice- and the kids don't mind. They welcome the comfort of the routine, even if I sound more like an American Idol reject.

Good morning to you!
Good morning to you!
Good morning dear children!
Good morning to you!

Part of the success of this activity is the idea that children themselves choose if they will participate. They have a viable substitute activity ("Read or draw at your desk."), and their choice is generally honored. This respect for kids' preferences lays the foundation for a respectful classroom climate. Class meeting itself is a respectful, thoughtful activity; it just feels right to listen to and act on children's ideas about their own ability to join in.

This morning four of the five children were present at circle time. As I sang my little ditty, I patted each of them on the arm or the head, and was so tickled with the eye contact and bright smiles with which I was rewarded. At moments like these, I feel like the luckiest teacher in the world.

We can only guess what it means....

She keeps all her certificates and happy notes in a folder in her desk. Her brand new BRAT dolls sit, unplayed with but safe, in a clear container ontop of the coat closet. All the treats and sweets (well, most of them) she earns throughout the week are bagged and placed on a high shelf in the classroom ("Here Mrs. Ris, add this to my bag.") The ceramic pig she got from the reading teacher sits on a bookcase behind my workspace, and aside from an infrequent comment about it to her classmates--"See my cute piggy?"--, it remains partially hidden behind a basket of post-its and stickers.

"Make sure it's okay. Okay, Mrs. Ris?"

It's obvious my student can't bring herself to bring her goodies home.

LuLu describes her home as bug-infested, noisy, and chaotic (at least 2, maybe 3 younger cousins live there on and off, as well as other extended family and Mom's boyfriend). She says she hates where she lives ("It's dirty and small."), and wishes outloud for those of us at school to take her home and be her mother. She is beautifully attired each day, scrubbed clean, and one day this year, she tantrumed most of the day because she hated the slightly tight pants her mother made her wear. Even when we loosened the waist for her, she was beside herself in near grief that she was made to wear something that she hated.

In the fall of this year, I was celebrating her great math work.
"Here's your math test, LuLu! It's awesome. Take it home and show your mom!"

I found it a week later scrunched up in the bottom of her bookbag.

So I allow for LuLu's eccentric need to sort and store her valuables here. It's part of her survival skillset, no doubt. We continue to try to fill her up each day with love and appreciation, and encourage her to value learning and school success.

Sometimes it feels like we're on the right path. Mostly, though, it feels completely inadequate.

Can't explain it.... Don't especially regret it....

Since my last post (DEC 22 for goodness sake!!), I have had my share of naps, including many hours asleep in the car as we traveled to the Florida and the Gator Bowl. I am a terrible copilot, prefer sleeping the miles away, even snoring loud enough to disrupt the listening of the radio. My daughter and hub love to drive, so I lucked out!!

My return back to blogging has been slowed by only one thing: I was feeling too lazy. Just unmotivated to jump back in. Can't explain it. Don't especially regret it. Just felt like crawling away for awhile. It was a good choice. I am back, feeling better than ever and ready to take on the new year.

The return of my students to school has been very smooth, made more so by the absence of one of our most challenging kids. He is interviewing at various private schools around the area, and his mom is a darling. She sees the process of moving to a new school is agitating for him, the interviews are torture for this autistic kid, so she keeps him home each afternoon after the interview. So very caring of her to meet his need for home and nurturing during this difficult time.... when most parents would be likely to dump their kid off with no worries.

I am reminded of the recent news story about a woman who had the cops come to her house when her child was acting up, and then had them drop the still agitated and violent student at her school that same afternoon. The details are sketchy, but I remember fully understanding the impact of this mother's decision to meet her own needs rather than the critical, emergency needs of her child. So sad.

Back on topic: I will miss this fellow when he is gone, but my window of opportunity for smoother teaching will be widened considerably. My other students will benefit in many ways from his exit, but he is well liked by most of the class and they will feel his loss, of that I am sure. I will always remember the genius of his sense of humor, so unexpected in an 8 year old with autism. I will not miss the chair throwing and threats of running away.

The memory of his bright smile will outlast any of my bruises.

All I Want For Xmas Is....

a good, uninterrupted 2 hour afternoon nap!! Heaven on earth!


Highlights of the week:

Making gingerbread houses with the kids.... milk cartons, graham crackers, and lots and lots of icing and candies!

Seeing the Polar Express with all the kids in our program. I still hear the bell?
Do you?


Dodging a metal chair as it soared through the air at me. The second time I wasn't as quick to move, and the welt/bruise on my arm is tender... but it's bright red color is quite festive!

Seeing one of my IA's face beam when she opened her Xmas gift from me: a blue faux croco leather watch. She never knows when to come in from outside recess, and now that problem is solved!!

Reading aloud the Twelve Days of Christmas, Arthur's Christmas, The Polar Express, and the Nutcracker Ballet to my tradition-starved class. We whisper/sang carols in the lunchroom today, and hummed JingleBells in line on the way back to the classroom!! Very subversive.

Exchanging sweets, pretty cards, and lovely sentiments with my dear friends and colleagues. It is a great time to show appreciation for everyone's support.

Joking around with the kids that I'll see them NEXT YEAR!!!

Finally, counting my blessings, one of which is the opportunity to blog and "meet" other bloggsers. Thank YOU blogging friends!

Considering all I should be grateful for....

....Why am I not looking forward to tomorrow or the rest of the week ?

Well, there's that bruising, annoying cough thats dogged me for 3 weeks now...

My equally annoying, but also adorable adult son who now lives in our basement and goes to grad school.....

The prospect of keeping 7 Christmas-crazed ED kids calm for the next 4 days before Winter Break....

The challenge of finishing up all the shopping, all the food prep and planning, all the cleaning and organizing and packing associated with said Winter Break.....

The promise of weight gain, a migraine or two, and the depression that follows getting into a bathing suit (needed for the aforementioned Winter Break).....

The reality of 2 and a half days in a car with my hubby, my daughter, (heretofore referred to as Hokie because she has just gotten accepted, EARLY DECISION, to VaTech!!),also my annoying/adorable son and his girlfriend.... and my husband's IPOD song list.... do we have to hear Toby Keith AGAIN?!!?

Enough complaining for one night. It's time to chill in front of the TV with the hosts of QVC lulling me toward coma-like relaxation... then off to bed.

Good night all!

Loving the Free Exchange of Ideas.....

Check out the most recent Carnival of Education here!!

The Education Wonks have done it again. And of course, the contributors are key to the Carnival's success! So many interesting and provocative ideas out there in the edusphere! Enjoy!

The Characteristics of an Effective ED Teacher.... continued

After a long break, I return to my late summer round up of ideas about teaching emotionally disabled children. You can check out the original list here, and subsequent postings, here and here... also, here

6. I enjoy interacting with students. My students sense my enjoyment.


It’s not enough that I like children. It’s not enough that I consider myself the proverbial “people person”. Working with kids is my mission in life, and I can’t think of anything more satisfying than the day-in day-out, shoulder to shoulder work I do with them.
But that alone is not enough.

It only counts if the children KNOW I enjoy working with them. It only matters if they get it that they are my first priority, the reason I’m in this business at all. Frankly, if they leave my class unsure of my interest in their achievement, be it academic or personal, I haven’t done my job.

While this is true of students in general, emotionally fragile children are all the more sensitive to the moods and views of a distant or uninterested teacher. Without the compensatory skills needed to negotiate other’s agendas, emotionally disabled students are likely to shut down or act up sooner, longer, and more intensely. ED students misread and make personal any negativity or lack of engagement.

When we wear our hearts on our sleeves, when it’s obvious to everyone around us that this is where we want to be, where we are meant to be, we’re smoothing our students’ path to achievement.

Let’s see. Care enough to notice what interests them. Ask about kids’ ideas, and listen….really listen to their answers. Smile. A lot. Frown too. Show disappointment and displeasure as a byproduct of passion and commitment. Have expectations; help kids meet them. Illuminate the way out, around and through hurdles. Take kids by the hand (figuratively or literally, depending on their age), and pronounce for all to hear that kids and their learning is your priority! Live each day true to that pronouncement.

Whew, that feels good!!

We miss you Ms. V

On a day like today, when one of the teachers in our room is absent, there is certainly potential for chaos and complaining! With fewer grownups available to meet the needs of these neediest kids, it’s sure to be an EXCEDRIN HEADACHE #14 kind of day.

Moreover, with less adult attention at the ready, academics often take a backseat to behavior management.

But today, despite missing Ms. V, the kids managed well, and we, the two other adults, were busy but not bonkers. The reasons, I am convinced, are the time and attention we have put into establishing and maintaining our classroom rules and routines. Despite the stark change left by an absent and well loved teacher, the kids (for the most part) were able to hold onto the security of our schedule, the consistency of our behavior support program, and the reliability of those teachers who were present.

There were glitches in the day. Right from the start, one of the girls complained of a sore throat and headache, but because of the absence of fever, no call home could be made. She spent much of the day on the bean bag, restless, whining, and generally uncooperative. (Poor thing, by the very end of the day her fever finally spiked… but too late for an early pickup.)

Our crisis counselor was absent too, (tis’ the season), and her sub isn’t a group favorite. Another change during a day of too much change….

Another one of our sweet things arrived at school all bluster and “bad-ass”. One on one required.

Our autistic student withdrew into a quiet, isolating shell. Although it made for an easier morning, it’s not best practice to let it go. We did let it go because of our staffing shortage. The good news is that we caught him up with his morning assignments by lunchtime.

Still, I choose to concentrate on the good stuff:

Lots of hugs!
Our littlest “pistol” actually went to the cafeteria with the group and behaved well!! A true accomplishment.
At least 2 tantrums appeared to be headed off…. These kids responded to our cueing and emotional supports so that they TALKED rather than exploded.

Yep,good stuff. But I sure will be glad to see Ms. V. tomorrow morn!

Tough? I wonder.

Looking back, I see I haven't blogged since end of November.... so I guess I'm not so tough after all. Truly tough blogger/teachers don't let anything get in the way of frequent, thoughtful reflection. Hurrummph.

Seriously, I have a mammoth cold, the kind of cough that rattles the brain. Every free minute is spent sleeping.

Or shopping online for xmas gifts.

My little first grade girl asked me the other day if I could be sure and buy a Christmas present for everyone in the class.
"That way we'll be sure to have at least one present."

So sad, yes. But she is one wise little girl. It was our plan all along anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~
We are in the throws of our study of Native Americans, a really fun unit that helps the children to contrast and compare several tribes, and also tribal life compared to their own lives. I love this kind of learning; these little kids show glimmers of deep thinking and enthusiasm for learning for learning's sake. Very powerful stuff.


This is the second year where the children will be using picture cards to set up data charts as a means for showing basic contrast and compare skills. Last year I spent hours creating these cool picture cards, mounted them on colored stock paper and then laminated them. And (of course) this year, our county has provided pre-made, even cooler picture cards, ready to use in just a matter of minutes.

Just my luck.

Another coughing fit. Time to stop. Must find the Nyquil.

We've got to be tough...

ED teachers need to be multi-talented. We need to have unique expertise in behavior modification, superb "differentiation of instruction" skills, and the ability to build and maintain a therapeutic learning environment.


We need to be tough. We can't complain too loudly when we are exhausted from the physcial and emotional abuse we take each day. We know getting hurt is quite likely, which is why feeling worried or overly cautious feels like a betrayal to our chosen profession.(See previous post.) It's part of the job. Don't like it? You don't belong here.

We are expected to master content, just like our gen ed counterparts. NCLB's Highly Qualified rules apply to us too, thus burdoning us with double the requirements with no additional benefits (salary, perks, etc.).

Like I said, we have to be tough.

After 4 days off, I'm feeling my toughness returning. I'm rested (well, as rested as one can be after driving from one end of the state to the other in holiday traffic), and ready for the weeks ahead. Christmas Break is only a blink away, and then we'll be into 2006. How does time slip by so quickly? I lose my breath thinking about it.

But there's no time to wonder, to reflect, to ponder the implications of any of these issues. Tomorrow is another day, the start of another week, and I've got to get ready.

That's what good ED teachers do.

At what cost? (And an update at end of post....)

Today one of our teachers was hit hard with a chair by an acting-out student. The kid "rammed" the legs of the metal chair into the teacher's chest.

Word of the attack spread quickly. Eyes widened, concern for our colleague grew. She's okay, we are quickly told. No lasting marks.

Then comes quiet acceptance.

It could just as easily have been any of us.

The reality of the dangers involved with working with emotionally unstable students hovers over us, ignored, unrecognized, dismissed... until something like this happens. Then we are pulled into a swirling frenzy of emotion: worry, resentment, then angry resignation.

What toll does this silent, pulsating sense of dread have on us? How does it affect our professional lives? What impact does this heightened stress have on our personal relationships? No doubt, our bodies feel the burden.

However noble this profession is, how many years am I shaving off my life because of my choice?

And at what point do we let ourselves talk about these important questions?

Finally, why does wondering out loud feel so much like betrayal?

UPDATE...
Needless to say, I wrote the above post soon after the incident, and my feelings were raw. Yes, it might seem overly dramatic to some, (see comment 1) but Ms. Smlph validated it for me.... those of us who repress worry understand what it is to HAVE to face it.

My colleague went home that afternoon, and as the evening wore on, her adrenline wained, and she got teary. She also found an ugly bruise developing over the tender spot of impact.

No charges filed... it was a clinical decision made by the teacher and the social worker and psyc. Hospitalization is in the works instead. Truly a more effective response for this kid at this time.

Liar, liar...

My sweet Katrina evacuee has twinkly bright blue eyes, a spikey blonde flat top, and a mouth that curls up in a sweet bowtie of a smile.

And he lies like a rug.

Even when it doesn't even matter, his first instinct is to lie.

No, mam, it wasn't me that threw the mulch.
No, the noise you saw coming out of my mouth was not from me.

Yes, I wrote her a thank you note.

Well, when his thank you note ended up reading I HATE YOU, I slapped myself on the head for being so gullible. When he looked up at me with those eyes, with that smile, I WANTED to believe. BONK! When will I learn?

But here's how I've been getting to the truth faster, more expeditiously:

"Well, E., here we are, out in the hall again, trying to work out the problem. The faster we get to what's true, the sooner we'll be done with all this and back into our day. That's how it's been working since you've been here, right E?

He agrees with a nod.

"So, sweetie. This is your chance to tell the truth."

I can't believe it, but this simple invitation, couched with a reminder about the realities of our day, has been working.

He is learning it's not the end of the world when he lies. He is learning we don't hold unreasonable, revengeful grudges. He is learning that lying might not be his only recourse when he's feeling up against the wall.

He comes to us with so much "baggage", not the least of which is rooted in losing everything when the hurricane hit. Add some neurological issues, a mood disorder, a likely genetic predisposition, and it's lucky lying is about the worse thing we're dealing with right now.

"This is your chance to tell the truth."

Truth. It's a powerful thing.

Harden My Heart

So it's official. I'm a grizzled veteran.

The little boy I nurtured and challenged and adored for three years (kindergarten, first and second grade), has moved onto grade three, with a new teacher, she of youthful exuberance and immense talent. I have stepped out of the picture despite my deep connection to him, and made way for the new folks to build a strong relationship with him. I put aside the joys, the pain, the frustration with his abusive mother, and an ineffective child protective services bureaucracy. I smile at him from across the hall, and pretend I don't hear his terror filled cries.

I do all this because it is part of the cycle of life in a school. It's good for the kid, good for his new teachers, and ultimately, healthy for me.

Letting go of the child this year has been hard. But I'd let go of his mom a long time ago.

She's part pitbull, part abuse "survivor" herself, part mother who does indeed love her child. She is impulsive, needy, cruel, a dreamer of big dreams. She's creative, usually capable of torturing her young one without leaving marks, and sometimes unable to keep from whacking him senseless.

And everything and anything I did in support of her son had absolutely no lasting, true effect.

Even calling CPS and ultimately testifying against her at the trial.

I cut her loose in my mind and my heart sometime in the spring of last year. No more sleepless nights for me. No more wondering what she was planning. I closed her down, even as I continued to care for her child.

It's a matter of survival. Mine.

But when I tried to describe this process to my colleagues today, as the new, young teacher looked over at me incredulously, I realized it's the nearly 20 years of experience that let me do this. You don't shut yourself down if your heart is still tender and fresh.

So I have to admit it. I'm a little toughened up. I'm a bit cynical.

I'm a grizzled veteran.

The Challenge of Switcheroo

Over the years, as I have had to plan for many ability levels, up to 3 grade levels at one time (this year, k-2), and only 2 adults to teach effectively... well, you can imagine that's been tough. One of my solutions has been SWITCHEROO: while my IA and I lead small learning groups, those kids who must wait their turn receiving our attention do something quiet at their desk....until....we.... switcheroo! The workers become the kids at their desks, and those kids move to the worktable for their intense worktime.

It can work. I've had great success with it over the years. But it requires close clock management, focused and well planned instruction, time for the kids to practice being quiet and independent at their desks, and patience from all involved.

We are definetly in the practice phase. At this point the whole thing seems well, stupid. How can we ever hope to manage all these kids, all these behavior problems, all these groups, all this curriculum... in the short time allowed by our cramped schedule?

It just feels nuts.

Here's hoping it goes alittle smoother tomorrow. More later.

We need a hero.....

When all is said and done, what teachers need is a fierce advocate, a bulldog of sorts, to stand strong FOR our students and AGAINST hypocrisy, stupidity, inequity.

Well, we’ve got that at our school.

It’s so cool.

When the cafeteria staff humiliated a child and his teacher as she tried to get him his properly due free lunch, even after the staff had been specifically directed by the principal to honor the free status of the student, that principal made her unhappiness known to the cafeteria staff.

She stood up for kids, against the bureaucratic mess of a mega school system. She stood up for teachers who seek to preserve students’ dignity, even in the face of the bean counters.

She was public about her priorities. She was clear that she meant business.

And later in the week, preschool instructional assistant (IA) complained loudly about a waiver our autistic student got so that he and his peers could play on the fenced in playground area. Because this child is a serious flight risk, he needs to be in a secured area, and the younger kids’ playground fits the bill. We signed up for two 20 minute playtimes each day, and stick to this schedule out of respect for the preschool classes that use the playground on and off throughout the day. The preschool IA has had her class out on that playground during our designated playtime, and unkindly detailed her displeasure to our new, young, easily intimidated (wonderful) IA. Even when the preschool IA was reminded how and why our class had special permission to be on the playground, she continued to bluster and sputter.

When I was informed of the preschool IA’s comments, I went directly to her and asked her if she had been informed by the administration about our special waiver. I had an email copy of that meeting’s minutes, and knew that the IA had in fact, been notified of the waiver. She said that she had not heard anything from the administration about our kids’ special needs.

I believed she wasn’t being honest. I said thank you, and went to our AP.

The AP stood up tall and mightily for our kid and the equity of the special waiver.

Case closed.

In the span of a week, I’ve been dramatically reminded what my bosses stand for. These reminders buoy me, make me feel supported. It’s almost like all the crap we go through is really worth it. Someone is on our side.

Like I said, it’s so cool.

Priorities

When two new little ones, a first grader and a kinder, arrive at your classroom doorstep just a day apart, and the kids you already call “yours” are having their own tough times, well, that’s when you pull yourself totally together and FOCUS.

1.You plan. Thoroughly, with great care and attention to every detail.

2.You rearrange the room to accommodate the need for an additional time-out desk.

3.You make sure you have a plentiful supply of gummy bears and skittles.

4.You update the crisis counselor, notify the office staff, and hope the cafeteria ladies don’t make his first lunch at his new school a nightmare…”What? You don’t have a lunch card? Then go hungry, little boy!!”


The planning paid off. The day went well, the new boy’s class work was completed satisfactorily, the routines and rules practiced in earnest.

Despite the fact I accidently broke a bookshelf while I was rearranging the room, the new set up worked well. (Yes, the bookshelf just fell in on itself as I went to gently push it 3 inches to the left. The particle board snapped slowly and the joints gave in. Very weird.)

The gummies and skittles are mostly for me.

The principal even went down to the cafeteria and notified the staff that this newbie would receive a free lunch today. You guessed it. They gave him a hard time as he came through the line. When he began to tantrum (“TEACHER, I AM SO MAD!”), they stood all the more resistant. Makes you wonder just who actually has the oppositional defiant disorder.


Anyway, my focus and preparation were truly impressive. Hmmm.


I am left to wonder: will my fellow teachers forgive me the unforgivable? I FORGOT TO PURCHASE FOOD TO BE SHARED AT TODAY’S WEEKLY TEAM MEETING. THE MEETING HAD TO GO ON WITHOUT APPLE SLICES, CHEESE & CRACKERS, AND PETITE SHORTBREAD COOKIES.

I am humiliated.

Welcome to our new kid!!

What does our new little cutie, an evacuee from Mississippi, bring to our class community?

Super manners!! Yes, Mam. No, Mam. Please Mam, shut the fuck up.

Insights into new cuisine!! We catch our own rabbits and cook ‘em up good!

Appreciation for the slow southern lifestyle!! I’m not doing any more work!! You can’t make me!

He’s been through a lot, and it took awhile to get him to our special program ---even though he came from a self contained, emotional disabilities program in Mississippi. His general ed teacher must have been wild with frustration as he had to stay there for several weeks before he got cleared to come here.

Another newbie arrives on Wednesday….. yikes, that’s tomorrow!! More to come!

Another committee is born.....

In response to the reauthorization of IDEA, our school is reorganizing the way we identify kids who may need special ed services. Today our school psychologist and social worker introduced the new plan of action. It puts a lot more teacher/expert remediation between the initial referral and a final eligibility for special ed.

No more Child Study Committee. Instead, a focused staff committee takes an initial inquiry by a teacher, helps to formulate a plan of intervention/remediation, assists in the implementation of that plan, reassesses frequently to determine the child’s responsiveness to the extra help, and only then can the referral move on to the official testing for learning problems.

The idea, we are told, is to make sure faulty teaching isn’t the cause for an increase in special education placements. For example, a child who isn’t reading will receive extra help in alternative (more direct, phonics based?) reading instruction BEFORE referral for special ed services.

I have read that this initiative might reduce the number of minority children identified as special ed.

The committee, called CARE (for Children At Risk for Education), will join the other school wide support committees that focus on supporting teachers and students who are not meeting the most basic, required levels of achievement: SBAT- Student Behavior Assessment Team, our various Professional Learning Community configurations (grade level teams, vertical teams-like k-3 or 4-6 teams, Emotional Disabilities Team). It’s meant to be another critical layer of support for our struggling students.

It sounds good. The federal requirements make it a necessity. And our caring, dedicated staff is committed to making it all work for the kids.

As a member of the SBAT team and 3 different Professional Learning Community groups, I won’t be joining the new committee. But I’ll cheer those staffers on, and hope the support services they provide will keep the numbers in our special ed program low.

Shouldn't we stop meeting like this?

Meetings out the whazzooo.

That's my reality. Tuesday and Wednesday mornings this week I came in 15 min. earlier than contract hours for school wide committee meetings that get me back to class just seconds before my kids arrive. So I actually come into school about an hour early just to get ready.

We have PLC meetings at the end of the day on Wednesdays, and I often have a collegial support meeting on Wed. or Thursday afternoon. Mondays twice a month take me out of my classroom for staff development (either school based, or county mandated).

I'm feeling kind of meetinged-out, and it's only October.

On the bright side.... we are getting alot done!! Kids are being studied and referred. Curricula are being aligned; policies are clarified. Plans of action are created and launched. Teachers are supported, AP's praised, others called on the carpet. Math supplies are now inventoried. Science materials shared. And that's just MY meetings. Imagine the energy quotient of all the meetings scheduled and held thoughout the building in a week's time.... in a month... per semester... through the year!

And tomorrow I'll be staying late to meet with my teammates and our principal on communication issues. Perhaps we'll decide more meetings are in order...

Exhaustion

I can't believe that a week has gone by without my posting. In my defense, I have been enjoying responding to others' blogs. It's the thinking, the mulling of ideas that counts, right?

Here's what's on my mind now: I have a little boy in my class, a physically beautiful tyke, elfish, huge eyes and long lush eyelashes.... with the personality of PeterPan meets the Tazmanian Devil. He hates, truly hates anything that smacks of traditional class work, and even play and learn activities are rebuffed when he figures out that we WANT him to do them. Power and control are his primary goals. It's been a challenge. Partly because he is so damn cute, he has gotten away with sooo much. He just doesn't believe we mean what we say and say what we mean. Not yet.

In fact, he is being exposed to very little in the way of the curriculum. Our curriculum at this point is to teach the joys and necessities of compliance.

Kids who comply with the routines and rules of the classroom do the fun stuff. Kids who don't, miss out. Kids who want to use scissors and the hole punch do so AFTER they do what they are supposed to do. You like to use my new pencils with virgin erasers? Then here are several math problems we have to do together first. You'd like to go visit your favorite counselor Mrs. D? You need to clean up first. EVERYTHING IS SET UP ON A CONTINGENCY. EVERYTHING. IT'S EXHAUSTING.

We are making progress. Everyone says so. It's slow. More of a one-step-forward-two-steps-back kind of progress. But it's hard.

Most people understand this. Teaching for mastery is tough. Addressing difficult behaviors, learning problems, and mental illnesses can be overwhelming. That's all understandable. People get that part of it.

It's the why we do it that stymies folks. And tonight, I am wondering the same thing. Is this my "Mr. Babylon" moment? I'm too tired to decide one way or the other.

Teaching To The Test ?

We all realize that, yes, we are teaching to the test. Our principal says so, in these exact words, with the regret of a caring professional who wishes it was different, but knows the realities. You gotta feel for her. After all, this is not her deal. Taking a stand against the mandates of our state and federal government would be career suicide. Instead, she tries to find a way to meld the testing expectations with building/maintaining an enriching learning environment. The question remains: does teaching to the test preclude enriching teaching?

I use to think yes. Now I am not so sure.

As a parent, I have seen my 17 year old easily pass the required SOL's [Standards of Learning]... ("They're easy, Mom"); still she enjoys the extensions and deeper study provided by her honors and AP courses. She and her top flight classmates continue to be challenged and even at times, delighted by her classwork.... and her teachers.

Her friends who don't excell academically, some spec ed and some "just not good at school" (her quote), spend much of their classtime learning what has come easy to my daughter: "essential knowledge" as filtered out by the state and county, HOW to take tests, and any gap information ( knowledge they missed in previous years). There is no time for broad, deep, thoughtful projects and activities.

The good news is they have a better chance to pass the test because of the focus on the tests.

And if you want more for your students than the opportunity to memorize what has been deemed essential by the test makers, that's also the bad news.

In my own special ed classroom, 5 first and second grade emotionally disabled students move slowly through the basic "essential" curriculum as they fight the emotional/behavioral challenges in their young lives. I no longer have to weed through the curriculum myself trying to find the most important aspects on which to concentrate. When so much of my time is spent on behavior management and therapeutic interactions, I have come to really appreciate the thick volumes of ESSENTIAL KNOWLEDGE my students are expected to learn. And that is a good thing.

So what's different this year?

This is the second year in a new, county-wide program that organizes grade level teams into Professional Learning Communities.(Check out info about PLC's here.) As such, I have a year of collaboration with my general ed cohorts under my belt, and a perspective that includes the results of changing my teaching. I have seen the value of really focusing on our teaching objectives, and of the power of analyzing my teaching and my students'learning.

When I look carefully at how and what my students have learned (primarily through test item analysis, but also by taking the time and energy to look hard at kids' writing products and other performance assessments), I am forced to take responsibility: responsibility for the methods, materials, and assessment strategies I choose. It's no longer a mystery..... MOST gaps in their achievement are a reflection of my ability to meet their learning needs.

Moreover, a culture of sharing ideas and expertise has penetrated our teaching teams. While a generosity of spirit was common for some among our faculty, it's now an expectation.... a norm.... that we will break through the isolation of the classroom and borrow and share and build on others' ideas. Very cool.

Yes, my intentions were always honorable: student achievement was always my goal. It's just that now I am on a path that really takes me there. With "alittle help from my (teaching) friends".

A Rivoting Research Topic...

My unofficial research topic this year is not complicated, or nuanced: I am concentrating on the changes I observe in the achievement of my students when I focus, in an intentional, specific way on increasing that achievement.
Of course I could argue I’ve been working for student achievement each year, every year of my teaching career. After all, if not for student achievement, why are we here?

Well, I can point to things that have distracted me over the years:
1. a lack of understanding about learning disabilities and effective teaching strategies
2. a worry that watering down the basic curriculum was the only way to approach my students’ difficulty learning
3. an isolation (mostly self-imposed) from my general education peers that kept me from learning (deeply) about content and new ideas fostered by the county
4. an arrogance that let me believe my ability to help children with their emotional disabilities was enough

What is different about this year? That’s for tomorrow’s post. For now, I’m off to bed. Unofficial research is indeed exhausting…. 

Add her name to my roll......

The younger siblings' behaviors escalated. The school's interventions were half-assed; in their defense, large group settings constrain effective response to inappropriate classroom behavior. But all teachers, not just teachers of emotionally disabled students, need to be able to understand and implement behavior programs. Truly differentiated instruction needs to be the norm in any classroom, not just in the special ed setting.

Long story short, the principal called me in yesterday to "ask for my help." But she admitted she intends "to make it happen no matter what". The younger sibling begins in my classroom in earnest tomorrow.

As the inclusion model has become the favored plan for special ed students (no matter the child's particular needs), self contained, small group classes have gone by the wayside. According to my principal, there were no small group, self contained special ed classes in any of the nearby elementary schools(except low, low functioning autism). So.... we are it.

Never mind that she could do well in a less restrictive environment; never mind that her placement in our class threatens the success of her brother (who is already here).

The full continuum of services envisioned by the crafters of the original spec ed law is just not out there. Counties just say, "We don't have that here, so the child has to receive services in a less than desired setting." To my mind, this borders on the criminal. It's definitely unethical. To make matters worse, most parents of spec ed kids are not great at advocating for their child. It was clearly up to me and the group of teachers who agree with me, to try and put the brakes on the immediate transfer of this child to our ED program. We bought ourselves a week of thoughtful discourse. And in the end, the principal pulled rank.

Could I Even Dare To Hope....?

It looks like... maybe... folks are ready to give care and thought to the decision about placing my current student's younger sibling. Today the general ed side implemented a behavior plan for her separate from our classroom, and tomorrow a local screening committee meeting will address many of the relevant issues. Administrators are investigating the various programs available at nearby schools, and I was allowed to meet for 45 minutes with the school psych to discuss the implications of her placement on my current student, her brother.

Everything is in place to foster a close consideration of the alternatives, those that are easy/convenient and those that are more complicated.

Thank God.

I still wonder if I am being played. All this preparation and signs of advocacy... But is it all for show? Will none of this really matter in the long run? Could her placement be a foregone conclusion? Does it really matter to the powers-that-be that moving my current kid up to an older age/grade group is absolutely inappropriate to meet his needs?

I continue to worry, but hope lives on.
More later.

So We're Focusing On What's Right For Kids??

On Friday I tried to catch both my administrators to continue the sibling discussion. (See previous post.) This is a big deal, to me, and to the kids of course, and the situation certainly warrants thoughtful discourse. But it was hard to pin anyone down. I finally wrote a page long list of arguments to support NOT moving my kid. The AP took the list, read it and nodded her agreement. But we both know it's not up to her, or me, or maybe even the principal. Transportation services and a stupid rule limiting where kids can go to get spec ed services..... These might just win out, rather than what is clearly in the kids' best interest.

I am seriously considering keeping both kids. Our school psychologist was aghast, warning me that I'd be dealing with sibling issues all day long. I asked her to get with me on Monday to talk some sense into me. I'll listen. But if the county won't do what's right....We're left with several imperfect solutions.

Sacrificing one for the other....

So after having this ED/developmentally delayed kid since the last weeks of his kindergarten year, he is finally settled enough to begin to learn to read and do math....finally. He is benefitting from my unusually small group size, and the boys who for years have tortured him for being slow have moved to another classroom.

And now the principal is proposing with vigor that we move my kid out of my class and into the other primary ED class. The kid's little sister is creating chaos in her general ed first grade classroom, and she wants to place her right away into my classroom. An alternative placement. No IEP. Just slip her in. And the brother is yanked from a situation where he is finally succeeding....

This is the kind of sh*it that keeps me up at night. There is no really good answer.

In years past, I have had twins who needed self contained ED services, and one stayed with me, and the other went to the closest ED program nearby. That's how you meet kids' needs.

I'm told the county no longer does this.