Weird Moments With Taz

OMG! Have you noticed that, as of late, I've been starting to get comfortable with my newest job? That I've been starting to enjoy it? That I've been getting to use some of my own teaching ideas?
Yep. The powers that be at my school must have noticed it too.
Yesterday I found out that the school has an appointment with Taz parents next week, and that at this meeting, they are going to attempt to persuade the parents to accept a self-contained special ed classroom placement for Taz. If his parents agree to it, Taz could be moved to the new classroom as early as the very next day!
On one hand, this would be great for Taz. He'd really benefit from being in a smaller classroom, with teachers who could really concentrate on his unique needs, instead of just being the most problematic student in a classroom of twenty-five first graders.
On the other hand... WHAT ABOUT ME?
I don't want to be selfish, but first of all, I don't want to start all over again in another classroom. And second of all, I've really been enjoying working with Taz! I feel like there is a lot I can do to help him! And he really is a nice kid. Just so happy all the time. Well, almost all the time. Sometimes, when he starts getting tired of my "redirecting" him, he looks at me and says, "Don't you need to go help in Mr. Shizuko's class now?" He gets kind of upset when I have to spend an entire day in a different classroom. I try very hard to have as many positive interactions with him as possible, and I think this has helped make him feel comfortable with me. Which was my goal originally, because I think kids learn best when they're comfortable. And now it seems sort of mean (to both of us!) for me to have to turn him loose again.
There is the chance that I will still be working with Taz, even if his parents accept the self-contained classroom. Of course, different people in the school tell me different things. Taz's current teacher says that I'd probably accompany Taz to his mainstream subjects, and possibly also help him in his self-contained room. But another teacher told me that there would be no reason for me to work with Taz any longer, since the special ed classroom has it's own aides already.
Ugh.

On a funnier note, the other morning when Taz got to school, he excitedly told me that he'd written me a note. He showed me a piece of notebook paper with a bunch of letters on it. Taz can write all of the letters of the alphabet very nicely, but he can't really spell or form sentences on his own, so his note looked something like, "DMSSRSFEUNEAHOND."
So, I asked Taz to read it to me.
He took the note, looked at it, and read aloud, "Dear Miss Read. You need a husband. Love, Taz."
(He then added, "And also two sons!")
Uh, thanks, Taz! I guess...

Wyken and Taz

I am now working almost full time with Taz, and only seeing Wyken for an hour a day. Wyken is absolutely fine without me, and when I do go in there I am often either observing or working with other kids, especially Davey who follows me around at all times when I'm in there. If anything, I try to check in with Wyken at least once a day and keep an eye on him on the days I have recess duty, as more of an emotional support person. A lot of times he will come and talk to me when he feels like he's been slighted in some way, like if some of the other kids won't play with him, if he's been yelled at by one of the cranky lunch supervisors, if he's lost his blue marker and is certain someone has stolen it from him, etc. I'll just sort of listen to him and help him put things into perspective, until his attention wanders and he dashes off to play. I really miss working with Wyken all the time... even though I was only really with him for two weeks, it was a fun two weeks!
Taz is another story. I mean, I definitely like Taz, and it is fun working with him, but he is very different from Wyken. Taz is a tough nut to crack. 
Taz's biggest obstacle in life is his impulsiveness. He is also very fast and intense. For example... You know how first graders are sort of prone to "cutting" in line? Taz does this himself quite a lot. But if anyone else cuts in line either in front of him, in back of him, or somewhere else completely, Taz will scream and just give the person a healthy shove! One time this very small first grader named Shay got behind Taz in line, and Taz felt that he had cut. So Taz turned around and pushed the kid so hard, he toppled and fell to the floor! I watched the whole thing happen. And you know, I very rarely raise my voice or even use an extremely firm voice. So when this happened, I marched over and looked Taz in the eye, and said, "You pushed him? I think you need to say sorry, and then go to the end of the line!" I barely raised my voice at all, but it sure shocked Taz, and he quickly said sorry and went to the end of the line. (And then I felt kinda bad. But jeez, you can't just shove people like that... especially people who are about twenty pounds soaking wet!) He now has a behavior sheet where he can earn stars for working on a weekly goal. This week, his goal is keeping hands and feet to self. And he's actually able to do this, most of the time, as long as I keep reminding him, "What are you working on?" I also try to show him what he should be doing, and point out kids who are doing the correct thing, such as sitting on the carpet during circle time instead of leaning over and poking people. 
Another of Taz's obstacles is the fact that, academically, he is a lot lower than the other first graders. He is pretty good at faking it though. For some reason the teacher is always having the kids copy sentences off of the board, and calling this Writing Workshop. They have to copy entire paragraphs. Taz is fairly good at copying, but he often leaves out letters or entire words, and he never has any idea of what he just wrote. Today I worked with him on writing a page about Presidents, and he just kept asking, "What does this say? Can you read this again?"
Other times, he completely surprises me with his ability to know what is going on. Today the kids were reading a Weekly Reader comparing the two Presidential candidates. I had spent most of the afternoon working with yet another student, filling in for the student's usual aide who was at a meeting. When I came back into Taz's class he was sitting quietly, looking at his Weekly Reader, and listening to what the other students were reading aloud. To look at him, you would have never guessed that he had no idea what most of the words on the page said! When the teacher asked questions, Taz was able to answer them correctly every time. However, when the kids were supposed to circle those same answers on the page, Taz couldn't do it and needed me to point out the very same answer he had just mentioned. 
An important obstacle for Taz, in my mind, is the quiet battle going on between his parents and teachers. His parents, who adopted him a few years ago, are dead set against him being in special education. They allow him to have speech therapy, but that is all. For the classroom teacher, Taz's behavior is the main concern. In fact she has started keeping track of the number of times she has to redirect him. Even if she asks him to sit down and he does it right away, because she told him to sit down it is counted. Even with this new behavioral sheet, it was almost as if she was hoping Taz wouldn't be able to get the stars. As if she were setting him up to fail, just to be able to offer proof that he needs to be in a special education class. Today I felt like Taz had an awesome morning... he got almost all of his starts, and the ones he didn't get were for very small infractions... but the teacher felt that Taz had had a terrible morning as usual. She just can't stand if he talks out or does anything. Once I was walking with Taz from his locker to his classroom, and he was bopping himself in the head with his folder, which I didn't even notice... I guess I was just dismissing it as regular 7-year-old boy behavior. He was otherwise being fine, walking and not making noise. But the teacher came out, saw him, ordered him to go back to his locker and walk again without bopping himself with the folder, and scolded me for not being more firm with him. Five kids in the class can be doing the same exact thing, but if Taz is doing it he is the one who will get yelled at. 
I feel like poor Taz is not getting served at school. He spends so much time just copying things he doesn't understand, and so little time really learning things at his own academic level. All the attention is on his impulsive and distracting behavior, and instead of trying to find ways to teach him how to behave properly, or putting things in place to help him behave properly, the teachers just yell at him, give him consequences, and write down what he did in hopes of convincing someone to get him out of the room. 
I really hope I can make a difference for Taz, but I am not sure how I will be able to... there are just so many people in the situation already who want to be completely in charge and feel that their way is the correct way. 
What do you think? Any input? 
Oh well. I am going to take a nap. Despite the "fall back" time change, I feel like I haven't slept in days! 

It's Always Something, Isn't It?

Hi everyone! So, my new job has been going okay. Not awesome, but alright. The only thing is, I feel like I do everything ass-backwards! I don't know if I'm getting old, or I need more sleep, or what, but this is the first job I've had in a long time where I really feel like I'm a disappointment! I just make all sorts of random mistakes. Mr. Shizuko asks me to make copies of some worksheets, and it takes me half an hour because the copy machine keeps shooting blanks. (I know how to work that type of copier, so I can't figure out why I'm all thumbs on this one!) He asks me to get the orange reading books from one of the storage lockers, and I take out all the peach ones instead! (They were in the first storage locker I opened, and they looked orange to me!) He asks me to get a bag of ice from the freezer in the teacher's lounge, and I come back with a grocery bag with a handful of ice in it, which I thought he might of brought from home, but it turns out he wanted one of the giant bags of ice actually! He asks me to put "the whole bag of ice" on a tray, and I dump the ice into the tray instead of just setting the bag on it. One minute I'm supposed to be giving Wyken space so he can be independent, and the next minute the teacher is asking me why I'm not "redirecting" Wyken for laying on the floor when he's supposed to be sitting in the circle. I feel like Amelia Bedelia!

Despite all that, I was excited today when Mr. Shizuko mentioned that we were going to start Guided Reading soon, and that I was going to be in charge of working with a group of kids who needed the most help. He said that I might be able to come up with some new ways to help these kids (I think it was going to be Annie Elizabeth, Johnny, Ginger, and maybe one or two others) to reach their goals. That would be a way that I could actually implement lesson plans and teach! 

As far as Wyken goes, I actually thought today was a breakthrough. Wyken was being squirmy during a lesson, so I whispered to him to ask him if he needed a break. He said no. Then Mr. Shizuko loudly told Wyken to go take a break. Wyken was upset but followed me out into the hall, where he complained that he hated when Mr. Shizuko called him out in front of the other kids. He said he felt like Mr. Shizuko hated him and just wanted to be in trouble. I tried to explain to him that Mr. Shizuko didn't hate him at all, but wanted him to learn how to control his own behavior and take breaks when he needs them. I suggested Wyken give me a secret signal when he needed a break. He liked the idea and decided that he'd pull on his earlobe when he needed a break. I added that I would do the same to him when I felt he needed a break. We then went to the gym and shot some baskets. Wyken was in a very good mood after that, and when we went back to class he was able to sit through the rest of the lesson.

At the end of the day I mentioned to Mr. Shizuko about the secret signal Wyken decided on. To my surprise, Mr. Shizuko frowned and said he didn't think Wyken would be able to decide when he needed a break or didn't need one. He then added that, at a meeting he'd gone to that morning, the principal had told him that I was going to be phased away from working with Wyken, and start working with another first grade boy named Galloway in a different room. I would be called back into my current room if Wyken needed a break or if an extra hand was needed in the classroom.

When I heard this I felt disappointed for so many reasons. For one, I've already gotten to know the kids in the classroom pretty well. One of my strengths is being able to figure out kids really quickly, and understand all of their different dramas, issues, strengths, weaknesses, personalities, etc. I know Davey, in particular, who is usually a gloomy little guy, always asks me to work with him, and after gym class he waits by the door so he can walk back with me. I reached out to him purposely because I could tell he needed more positive adult attention. I feel bad now that I'm going to be gone already. Plus, I like Wyken. And I like Mr. Shizuko, despite the fact that I have trouble figuring out what he wants from me exactly. And I was so excited about getting to be in charge of a Guided Reading group. I just don't want to start over in a new class again! 

Mr. Shizuko seems to agree with me, plus he's not sure if Wyken is ready to be on his own with no aide. But he says we have to pretty much go along with the principal. So... ::sigh::... I guess I will just wait and see what happens.

If nothing else, by the time I get through this year of confusion and chaos, I will be ready to take on a classroom of my own for sure! Nothing will phase me anymore!

Special Education Can Be Painful!

The more comfortable Billy gets at school, the more "good" moments he has. For instance, today he participated at Calendar by putting his name up on the attendance chart, and saying the date with the others. He "wrote" in his journal by pointing to pictures for me to cut out, and then pasting them on a page, he sat with the others for most of speech therapy and answered the questions the therapist asked him, and he sat with us before reading and read some site words that the teacher showed him. (He still wore his backpack all day, and kept on snatching the "HOME" symbol from the schedule, though.)
However, the more comfortable he gets, the more painful his "bad" moments get. 
By painful, I mean painful for me. Billy likes to pinch when he's angry. Apparently he saves this for those he knows and loves. Before, all he would do is slap me, which didn't hurt, and he would stop when I told him, "Quiet hands, please." I miss those days!
This is what happened yesterday when I tried to stop Billy from knocking everything off the top of a file cabinet because he didn't want to do math. 

And this is what happened today when I told him it wasn't time for a computer break yet! 

That boy pinches hard! Its actually like an Indian burn, where he grabs your arm and twists your skin. He's strong, too, for an 8-year-old. He's about chest-height to me, and he's husky.
When my dad saw, he looked alarmed and said, "You should quit that job." When my mom saw, she said, "Did you tell the principal about this?" They can't imagine working somewhere where people pinch you! I tried to explain to them that this is actually pretty common. I haven't worked with children who pinch this hard since back in the days when I worked with preschoolers with Reactive Attachment Disorder... they would also spit in your face and throw chairs at your head... but I've known plenty of other people who work with kids whose arms are always bruised up. 1:1 aides seem to get it the worst! 
Anyway, I'm kinda proud of my bruises. They're like battle scars.
I'm just glad he doesn't bite! (Knock on wood!)

Ask Me How My Day Went

So, today was the second day of the ESY program. How did it go? I'll give you a play-by-play rundown.


(Today I was prepared with a keyring of Pec Pics rules, and an old cellphone... He loves phones, and I've been told in a letter from his classroom teacher that a phone is one of the few things that motivates him in school.)


8:15 am - Meet Billy's bus. Unbuckle Billy's harness and extract him from the bus, even though he is already pleading, "No school today!"


8:20 am - Billy spots the cellphone right away. I tell him he can hold it if he goes and sits in Circle time with the other kids. Billy goes and sits down happily. 


8:21 am... One of the other aides tells me that the phone should only be used as a reward for Billy. I tell her that I gave it to him this morning to try to ease him into the school day and get him to sit in Circle time.


8:23... Even though the phone has no service, when Billy presses a bunch of numbers followed by "Talk," he gets a recorded message. This amuses Billy. BUT, as he's messing with the phone, he is also listening to what the teacher is saying. He puts his name up on the board during attendance, answers questions, and I hear him repeating some of the words of the story the teacher reads. 


8:30... The speech teacher comes to work with the kids. One of the aides tells Billy he must put the phone away until after speech. Billy screams, and knocks over a book shelf. I restrain him in my lap. He somehow manages to kick down one of those hanging pocket charts, causing it to land on a little girl's head. The girl screams. Billy asks, "Again?"


8:40... Still restraining Billy, who is spitting on the floor and on my leg. 


8:55... Speech is over. Billy gets a break. I give him the phone and he sits at the back table and plays with it. He even eats his snack!

9:15... The recreation therapist comes in and announces that they will be tie-dying T-shirts. She passes out plastic aprons and gloves for the students to put on. When I try to put Billy's on him, he cries, "Jacket off!" 


9:30... We go outside to do the tie-dye. Billy screams when he realizes we're not getting on the busses to go home. 


9:35... I actually manage to get the apron on Billy, and show him how to squirt his shirt with a spray bottle full of dye. We do it hand-over-hand. Then Billy turns the squirt bottle around and squirts himself in the face! Of course!


9:45... After I've cleaned Billy up, he gets a break with the phone while the other children finish tie-dying. 


10:15... Time for Reading. the teacher explains to the students that she's set up three stations, and they will rotate through the stations. The first one Billy is assigned to involves copying down words that an aide writes on a white board. I tell the aide that Billy doesn't write, that his IEP goals don't involve physically writing (he's supposed to be working on typing, except we don't have a computer or keyboard of any sort) and that his regular school has sent over work station tasks for him. The aide tells me I need to do hand-over-hand with Billy. I try it. Billy screams and throws the pencil. I take him to another area of the room, give him one of his work station activities, and let him play with the phone after he finishes it. 


10:30... The next reading center involves decorating a paper T-shirt with stickers and Do-A-Dot markers. Billy takes the Do-A-Dot markers and starts enthusiastically decorating his T-shirt. I am glad that he's actually participating... until he calls the Pink marker "Drink" and puts it to his mouth! 


10:45... The final center involves sitting at a table and looking at a miniature book about the Olympics. Billy turns over his book and screams. I restrain him on my lap and try to make him pretend to read the Olympics book. The teacher makes us read it twice. 


11:00... The kids have some free time. Billy is given a small white board and dry erase marker. He draws on it, and then starts drawing on the large classroom white board instead. The teacher tells Billy not to do that. He screams and tries to run out of the room. 


11:15... Time to get ready to go home! I get Billy's harness and backpack on. Billy amuses himself by putting the cell phone in random places and then asking me to get it for him.


11:20... The principal or someone comes over the intercom and says that, because there's a thunderstorm outside, we are on lockdown in our classrooms until further notice. The busses are idling outside but we cannot put children on them. The children are going crazy. One boy cries because the mysterious voice coming from the ceiling has freaked him out. The teacher games with the other children on the carpet, but Billy does not understand, and continues to walk around with the cellphone, repeating, "Time to go home? See Mommy? Go home? Bye bye school?" He has seen on the schedule that its time to go home, and he's not sure what the big hold up is. 


11:40... Still on lockdown. I am physically blocking Billy from running out the door. 


11:50... The mysterious voice tells us we can leave. I tell Billy its time to go. He cries, "No go home! No go home!" Ugh!


12:00... I buckle Billy into his bus, and tell him I'll see him on Monday.


OK, dudes, any advice? Help! Monday is only 3 days away! 

Running Out Of Steam

Today marks the last day of my second-to-last week at Sky Elementary. Although I definitely love the children, I have to admit I am running out of steam. Its getting hard for me to drag myself out of bed each day, force myself to take a shower, put on my usual corduroys and sweater, pack a lunch, eat a healthy breakfast, part ways tearfully with my dogs and cats, and drive myself to "work." 
I guess part of it is because, as an "intern" and not a student teacher, everything I do is really mostly the duties of a teacher's aide. I don't have any real responsibilities, like lesson plans or assessments or special activities, to think about. I just show up. do calendar time the way I have been told to do by the teacher, and then do whatever center activity I've been given to do. Always cut-and-paste. The kids cut-and-paste, cut-and-paste, cut-and-paste! Cut-and-paste pictures of vegetables onto a picture of a plate. Cut-and-paste farm animals and zoo animals into the correct categories. Cut-and-paste paper hearts into the correct order by size. Cut-and-paste the parts of a bird onto a piece of blue paper. Cut-and-paste the letters of their names. I'm surprised they haven't developed carpal tunnel from all that cutting! 
Not to speak poorly of the teacher. I like her a lot, she's been very nice to me, and she is kind and loving with the children. But she's been a preschool teacher for 30 years. Probably 30 years ago preschool was all about cut-and-paste... but now there are so many more ways to teach children, so many more ways we could be enriching their lives! 
Plus there is the fact that I still haven't found out my placement for my ten-week assignment. Which starts in one week. Where will I go?
And then there is the fact that I was just informed in "seminar" that, with an LBS1 certificate (which is what I will have when I graduate this spring) all I will be able to be is a resource teacher. An LBS1 certificate apparently doesn't make you highly qualified enough to have your own special education teacher. The professor cheerfully said, "So you'll be a support person! You'll help with homework!"
Help with homework? I don't want to help with homework? I want to teach! 
The professor in my seminar says there is a test you can take in order to be considered highly qualified enough to have your own classroom. But its a hard test. And besides, she can't remember what the test is. UGH! 
This information might not even be true. I have been looking at job openings in my state, and the qualifications just ask for an LBS1 certificate. So... you never know. I guess I'll just hope for the best, right? But the prospects of just helping kids with homework is enough to make me want to curl up in a ball on the couch and refuse to leave the house again. 
Oh well. Lets think about more cheerful things. 
Ani has been getting more talkative every day, has been playing with other kids (especially Pewee), and has even been seen smiling! 
Robin comes up to me every day and tells me, in this sleepy, slow-motion way he has of talking, "I like you, Miss Angel! I like you so much!" 
Quail, a precocious three-year-old who probably doesn't really need to be in the "at-risk" program, swears that at night he and his sister wake up and turn into werewolves!
Rhea allegedly kissed Wren twice on the bus the other day, and has asked her to marry him. Rhea was lectured about keeping his lips to himself , but Wren didn't seem bothered at all. She cheerfully announced that she was going to tell her mother that Rhea kissed her. "I think Mommy will be happy, because she kisses her boyfriends all the time!" Wren declared.
After I read a story to the children about police officers and what they do, Teal raised her hand to contribute, "If you drink alcohol the police will come take you away!" 
And when we were learning about the five senses and I asked the kids what they use their noses for, Pewee replied, "Sneezing!" 
They are wonderful, sweet, funny kids. A lot of them are underappreciated by their parents. The school projects we send home go in the trash. The library books we send home go unread. They are exposed to alarming situations. Yet they show up at school, just happy to play with blocks and color with crayons like ordinary preschoolers. I wish I could do more for them! 
But, one week from now, I will be gone.