Thanksgiving is my
favorite holiday, hands down. Spending time with families and friends. Eating
entirely too much food. Most importantly, stopping to think about the things in
life we’re most grateful for.
This past Sunday, my
pastor began his sermon by explaining that he was very aware Thanksgiving had
already come and gone, but he’d never had the opportunity to preach a
Thanksgiving message and was not going to miss the chance, even if it did come
a few days late. Toward the end of the sermon, he read a list of things that he
was thankful for: the early morning sound of the alarm clock, sore muscles at
night, mortgage payments and income taxes. Obviously, this is a pretty strange
list, but he went on to give reasons why he was thankful for these things. The
early morning sound of the alarm clock is a reminder that he has life another
day. Sore muscles at night mean he was able to be productive. The mortgage
payment is a reminder that he’s blessed with a warm home. Income taxes are paid
because he has a job and the ability to work.
If you are a fan of music from the late ‘70s, “I’m
sending out an SOS. I’m sending out an SOS. I’m sending out…” You get the idea.
Here is the problem. Behavior management. Behavior
management is a common struggle for new teachers and a common topic to come up
in a teacher job interview.
My main problem is the largest of the three classes I
teach. The 19 students are all very high functioning. AND LOUD. I don’t have
disruptive outbursts or any of the extreme behaviors you hear horror stories
about in college and that fellow Reality
101 blogger Kaylie experienced recently. I just have students that like to
talk and talk loudly.
I have a short list of things I have learned as I taught the
skills listed in my
first self-advocacy piece. I know all students and classes are different,
but if you have students similar to mine, these tips may be helpful when
broaching the topic of having a disability.
1. Be direct/honest I get right to the point and talk very matter-of-factly when
talking about disabilities and weaknesses. No need to make a big deal out of
this discussion or to “beat around the bush.” Just get to the point explain it
like you explain anything else. If you don’t overreact to this conversation,
your students will be less likely to overreact when told they have a
disability.
In a classroom full of boys there are bound to be times when
things are somewhat hectic, chaotic and downright ugly. In my classroom, we
label such times as Meltdown Level Events or MLEs. We take these events very
seriously and even though these events sometimes happen rather unexpectedly, we
are always on high alert and well prepared.
When I was first hired for my position last February, I took
some time to do some observations. I really had no idea what the staff was
talking about when they informed me that my student frequently engaged in rage-filled
shouting episodes that would make Sam Kinison seem rather
weak by comparison. Then I experienced a MLE. It is truly a sight to behold. I have heard this child scream himself
hoarse. It is brutal for the child to experience; it is painful to witness and
even worse when one of his meltdowns is aimed at you.
How much of a teacher’s professional life should be spent
in professional development? How about a coordinator? An administrator? What
constitutes professional development? Taking a class, going to a conference,
watching a webinar or attending a committee are certainly all activities that
everyone in the education field will agree are professional development
related, so long as the class, conference, webinar and/or committee are
education related.
What about less organized activities? Collaborative
planning, data analysis of student work, book groups about education-related
material and peer observations have all come to be recognized as professional
development too. Over many decades, the
nature of professional development has evolved to include much more than
organized conferences and seminars, and rightly so.
We used “the D word” a lot in one of my classes recently.
No, not that one. For those teaching high school students with disabilities,
the D word is “disability.” It’s one of those words that your students don’t
like to hear. Recently, my district implemented a self-advocacy and disability
awareness initiative. Part of the program was a survey given to students and
parents to assess how much information stakeholders knew about a student’s
disability. Surprisingly, the survey revealed that both students and parents
knew very little about a student’s disability. Some parents even angrily denied
having a student with a disability.
I know a paraprofessional
who was responsible for getting children off the bus in the morning. Among the
children who were helped off the bus was a student with multiple disabilities
who was amazingly adept at taking off her shoes and did so frequently. One
morning, the student arrived on the bus and had, predictably, in the course of
her ride, taken off her shoes. The paraprofessional collected the child and
promptly allowed her to walk into the school building without shoes, in nothing
but socks. In November. This was, in my view, an individual who was not trained
properly to work with students with disabilities.
In this final part of my
three part series, I will note three ideas that I have come across in literature
and in my personal experience that I believe might pave the way forward if we
are serious about providing paraprofessionals with the respect their
work deserves.
It was before 8 a.m. on
Tuesday. My students were signing the daily sign-in sheet, completing the
morning work assignment on the board, eating breakfast, looking at library
books, and, of course, some were just milling around the room visiting. One of
the last buses arrived, and three of my students entered the room. I was at my
desk glancing at an IEP needing revision soon when I hear words that sound
worse than nails on a chalkboard to me: “I haven’t had my medicine today! I’ll
probably be a little rowdy!”
Let me start by saying
that I am in no way against behavioral medication and truly believe that it
helps a number of kids be successful. I don’t think it should be the first
behavioral intervention, however, and find it very upsetting when some of my
students believe they are not responsible for their own behavior after missing
medication. Needless to say, this is not the first time I’ve had a student give
me the old “I can’t help it; I haven’t had my medicine!” spiel. It is true that not taking medications can
affect behavior, but I am a firm believer that students must still learn to
make good choices.
On Oct. 24th, I attended a meeting hosted by the South
Carolina State Superintendent of Education. I was joined by more than 600
fellow special education and general education teachers. The topic of the
meeting was teacher evaluation systems – one of the most hotly debated issues
for teachers today. I have held off writing about this topic for a few reasons.
First, I don’t like talking about issues that are political. Second, I wasn’t sure that it was an
appropriate topic for Reality 101. Finally, I was too angry to have a rational
discussion about it.
I decided now is a good time to write about this change for
a couple reasons. First, I don’t think teacher evaluation is as much about
politics as it is about education. Second, the more I think about the South
Carolina plan, the more I can see real-life, everyday implications for the reality of a teacher as a result of the
changes that are being proposed. Third, I have had time to review the proposed South
Carolina plan in its entirety, listen to the explanation from the State
Department of Education, and think reasonably and rationally about the topic.
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