Tr*ns!t!@n!!!!

“Transition” is the word that I have often heard said as an explicative as well as through tears. It is a simple word really.

 Transition: noun --the process or a period of changing from one state or condition to another.

However, “transitioning” is not so simple.  A parent of any child worries from the minute they first hold that small miracle until, well, forever.  This is true for all parents.  But when they child’s still being alive is a miracle, when the worries are about tube feedings, immune deficiencies, upcoming surgeries, and seemingly insurmountable communication delays, the worries are magnified. 

How can the next school or teacher possibly know everything they need to know for my child?  Will they learn how to use their communication device?  How to tell the difference between the in pain cry and the tired and sick cry?  Will they know how important it is that they get 10 minutes of sensory input before being asked to sit?  Will the teacher or school communicate with me?  How will they?  Will I know what my child is doing during the day?   How will I know if my child is getting their needs met?   Will the IEP be followed or changed?

This cycle of questioning starts at the beginning of the year of transition and continues until the next year and into the fall.  The teachers such as myself ask very similar questions as we are also attached to the child we have taught, laughed with, calmed, cried with, and loved.  Knowing the professionals at the next site always makes it easier as the questions are answered, and yet, for me at least, I still know that my class will change.  Each child brings their own personality and those personalities combine to create that class. 

As I prepare for the changes, the families, students, and next school or teacher are also preparing.  I watch the families I have spent hours and many emails talking to struggle and wish that I could ease their fears.  What I have learned is, the professionals receiving the child are all good and wonderful people with various levels of experience and various philosophies but they are good people.  They will love the child as I have, but in their own way.  The thing that the parents and I can do is make certain the current setting a welcome place for visiting and collaborating.

I recently had an Eligibility (Triennial) IEP for a student who I have been fortunate enough to work with for the past 6 and ¾ years.  The special education teacher and speech pathologist for the middle school came to the meeting.  Additionally the teacher and I had collaborated on ideas for the goals prior to the meeting.  We were a team and so, the transition was in some ways, already completed.  It was a small step but it gave everyone who has worked with this student this year the chance to ask questions, think trough possible concerns, and, most importantly, begin talking to each other.

Did this stop the parents’ questions?  Of course not! Their child hasn’t stopped growing, changing, trying new things.  There will always be questions, but at least now they have someone to ask for answers.  It is a small thing, but something.

In the end though, I am still going to cry after the last day of school.  Tears of joy.  Tears of hope.  And selfish tears that I will not have this student with me each day.

Spring Fever

Spring is here and for teachers this means increases in chatter, student distractions, planning placements for next year, transitions (that is a post of its own), and...

Hormones!

The Scream by Edvard Munch

Tiny little chemical messengers within the bodies of these small children have now created chaos and interesting changes to our classroom.  No longer can the kids in the “clubhouse” be a co-ed group.  Googly-eyed stares, blushing cheeks, and frequent visits to check the mirror have taken over.  

How is it that warm weather can create this?  Do the hormones build and travel faster when the sun warms the body?  Does the increased vitamin D from the sun make the hormones go crazy?  Somebody, please tell me.  Also, can I counteract these effects if I keep the classroom at 60 degrees or less?  I’ll wear a sweater and coat all day if it can keep these small little children from becoming teenagers too quickly.  Really, I will!

Lost Kids!?!

The goal I have for all my students is that they are “lost” in a group of their peers.  No, don’t panic!  I don’t actually want to lose them.  What I am talking about is the moment that their social skills, behaviors, and actions are so age appropriate that you no longer see:

child… child… student with a disability… child

or worse yet:

child…child…    ….   ….   … student with a disability and para

I am referring to the moment that the student is a peer, a friend, a playmate.  It is the greatest moment for me as a special education teacher.  But it has also caused moments of panic as the paraprofessional, teacher, or parent suddenly couldn’t find the student.  For a brief moment, the fear that they are lost over takes our heart.  The next minute, we realize that our every hope for that child is met, at least for the moment. 

This past weekend was an example of that.  Some of my students went to a Special Olympics basketball tournament.  I was home sick in bed and missed it but a parent kept me in the loop through texting and these photos.  It was then that I saw that “lost” moment.  All the kids are playing well.  You can’t tell who has the disability and who is the peer partner.   

You only see kids, playing basketball, and winning second place.  (Okay, that was just bragging but after all, they are my kids, I should get to brag.)

Yes, last weekend, my kids were “lost” and it was a great victory!

What is that?

Periodically I am asked by a general education teacher to talk to their class about disabilities or a specific disability.  I always enjoy these opportunities as I get to hear what the students are wondering and the ways that they develop an understanding and compassion.  Last Friday was one of those days.

I have a young man in a primary grade with Down Syndrome.    He is a charismatic, funny, adorable young man who is also popular.  As he grows older, his peers wonder why.  Why does he talk different?  Why is he so short?   Will he grow?  Why doesn't he read and write well when he works so hard?

The teacher and I talked about a variety of messages we wanted to teach to the students but we both agreed that they needed to learn about what Down Syndrome is and what it isn't.  The teacher set the stage by talking to the class about how to be a friend even when you are not alike.  Then, I met with the class the following day to explain Down Syndrome.  I am always nervous.  Will I make it sound scary or confusing?  Will the students have more questions and concerns when I leave than when I came?  What questions will the ask that I don't know how to answer in a way that a 7 or 8 year old can understand?

 http://www.cdadc.com/ds/

I decided that I would talk about chromosomes.  First I talked about how there are little, teeny, tiny parts of the body that decided if you will be a boy or girl?  Blonde, brunette, or red-head?  Tall or short? I told them they are called chromosomes but the most special thing about them is that they are all twins.  Then I drew little sticks that were "holding hands" with their twin.  That set the stage to tell them about what makes people who have Down Syndrome so amazing.  They have a set of triplets at the 21st row.  The students thought this was amazing and found it to be a great explanation.  We then talked about the messages those triplets gave about being a little smaller, having shorter fingers, a flatter nose, and a larger tongue.

The class and teacher then participated in an experiment to find to what it was like to have Down Syndrome with a larger tongue.  I found this idea at another great bloggers site http://elliesgift.blogspot.com.  You simply get the large marshmallows and cut them in half.  The students, teachers, or anyone else who wishes to participate pushes the marshmallow onto the roof of their mouth and then tries to talk.  Instantly the participant has a Down Syndrome accent.  It is a simple but dramatic experiment and helps others to understand the struggle that individuals with Down Syndrome have to even talk to a friend or family member.

We talked as a group about how frustrating it was to try to talk.  Then I talked about how I don't know if I would keep trying if it was that frustrating but that the young man with Down Syndrome was far braver than I am.  The class agreed that it takes courage to struggle but still try (see Home of the Brave to read more on this).   I watched as each student and adult in the room looked again at those around them with an appreciation for who they were, rather than who they weren't.  A great day teaching.  A great day learning.

Retarded--the Most Misused Word

Retarded, this is word that brings many negative and ugly connotations.  It is misused to such an extent that there are many campaigns to eliminate its use including Spread the Word to End the Word.

But a mom of a beautiful young girl says it best in her blog, Herding Cats.  I thank her for her advocacy of not only her daughter but all of the people who happen to be cognitively delayed.

When No Isn't No

"No."  Two letters make a big word.  It is a word that indicates refusal, disinterest, or a different opinion. 

No.

Small children learn the word quickly and use it at every opportunity to assert their independence.  It is a word parents use to protect a crawling child from danger.

No!

It can clarify a statement to determine if it was dissent or confirmation

No?

In my class, I have a student who says "no" every time an adult speaks to him.  For him, "no" means..."Give me a minute to think." or  "I don't know what you are saying, could you say it another way?" or "Help me know if saying yes is safe."  Dor this young man, no isn't a refusal but rather a word he uses to protect himself from the unknown.  His limited receptive language has caused him to agree to things he was not very happy about so he is cautious and anxious about agreeing until he understands.  His limited expressive language and articulation struggles leave him with the simple but eloquent, no.  Given time to process, he is usually happy to comply and grins with the success of both protecting himself from the unknown and pleasing the adult.

Confidence is a great thing!

(Shared with permission from the child's parents)

This young man reminds me every time he declares "no" that processing and think time is not only critical, it is the only way to give the student the feeling of safety and security that we all want for each of our students and children.

Ring in the New Year

As the year comes to a close, I find myself reflecting.  2011 brought continued budget cuts and with that, increased class sizes, fewer people for services such as special education, Reading Recovery, Title 1, gifted and talented programs, and school readiness.  Additionally, we all wait in fear that our music and arts programs will be cut.  We struggle daily to still meet high standards and complete stacks and piles of paperwork.

Will 2012 be more of the same?  Failed attempts to raise funds? Exhausted teachers?  Decreased confidence in the public school system?  I don't think so.

I think 2012 will bring the healing of our spirits and confidence.  We will realize that, although tired, we survived all the bad news of 2012.  We can handle more than we thought, and with grace.  The exhaustion, anger, and frustration will give way to hope, confidence, and renewed joy of the job.  I already feel my spirits lifting and look forward to returning to school.