Living in a state of chronic overwhelm seems to be the bane of modern American society. Sometimes we just feel overwhelmed regardless of the number of things coming at us. Other times we really are overwhelmed by the demands foisted upon us. In those times something has to give. Unfortunately, it is usually us who 'gives.' We experience chronic stress, ill health, depression, sleeplessness, etc. When we are overwhelmed, what can we do?
In my experience, when I am overwhelmed, it’s usually because the clarity of where I’m going (my vision or muse) isn’t balanced with a sufficient level of routine. Let me illustrate.
Last school year I had 10 new staff members to supervise, most of whom had never worked around people with severe intellectual and multiple disabilities. On top of that we had only 12 students returning from the previous year and 22 new ones coming from the nine high schools in Granite School District. Then, we were crammed into a beat up, smelly relocatable. In spite of clearly knowing what I wanted to accomplish and having a pretty good idea how to get there, it was chaos.
September 2006 was a waking nightmare. I said that I had 10 new staff members. That’s true. However, we started off with only five of us, including me. It took over six weeks to get completely staffed. The economy was so good no one wanted to work part time for the school district at school district wages. Until we finally were fully staffed, we were outnumbered--badly outnumbered.
You can’t begin to know how weird things were. One afternoon, about four days into the school year, Karlee, one of the returning students who is typically calm, gentle, and quiet, went off the deep end. At lunchtime I ended up alone with the whole pack. Somehow I made the mistake of sending the entire staff--all four of them--off to lunch at the same time. And I’ve been doing this for eight years? Good move.
Most of the students were having a great gabfest of a time while gobbling down their lunches. Think elementary lunch room when you visualize 34 adult students with disabilities eating lunch around regular school tables in a relocatable that is hovering at 89 degrees Fahrenheit.
I’m alone, remember. Just at that moment Marisela, who has epilepsy, goes into one of her seizures. Wham! Down on the floor she goes with a dull thud. I’m there timing the seizure and watching for tale-tale signs that aren’t good--blue lips, tongue biting, that sort of thing.
In the corner of my eye I see Nina, one of the newbies, winding up for a truly world class anxiety attack. You see, many folks with disabilities cannot tolerate commotion very well. This is just great. Also, folks with disabilities tend, as a group, to be very tender hearted. Three or four abandon lunch to soothe Marisela back to reality, and a couple more are hugging and kissing Nina, which just makes her howl all the louder.
I look out the window in the vain hope of seeing one of the troupes returning from lunch. No such luck because--horror of horrors (insert a Christopher Lloyd-Dr. Emmet Brown, Back To The Future scream here)--who do I see coming up the walk? None other than the Special Education Director for the district! I’m a dead man.
Hey, wait a minute. She needs to see just how nutty things are. I let the powers that be know far in advance that we were getting slammed with a flood of new students. I let them know that one relocatable wasn’t enough space (and these guys need space, let me tell you). I got their clearance to have THEM hire 10 para-educators, which obviously didn't happen. Yeah, Madam Director. Come right on in and get a load of this. In the (literal) heat of the moment, I was feeling pretty snooty.
Now what has Karlee to do with this story? As I give the director (who, by the way, is a very fine, supportive person, which is why she came by for a visit) a wave of acknowledgment as I kneel at Marisela’s side, I see Karlee at the back of the room, stripped down to her bra and panties, rifling through our shelf of games and puzzles. She has a huge pile of empty boxes and lids on her left side and an even bigger pile of puzzle pieces, Monopoly tokens, Uno cards, fake money, dominos, and various odds and ends on her right side. Apparently, Karlee doesn’t handle commotion very well, either.
By this time the staff has returned. They have that deer-in-the-headlights look of terror in their eyes. In fact they have a look in their eyes that screams at me, “You’re the teacher. DO SOMETHING!”
“I am doing something! I’m trying to make sure we are fully staffed so we can get a routine going. These guys need ROUTINE.”
“Consequences. Consequences. They need consequences,” the staff murmurs back.
“No. No. NO! They need routine. Simple, bland, daily routine.”
Some of the staff didn’t believe me until months later. One of them observed in February, “Boy, things are sure a lot calmer around here. I kinda’ like this.” That was on a typical day when one group with staff was off working at K-Mart, another was downtown visiting the planetarium, a third group was doing community service at the Humanitarian Center, and the fourth group was in class working on life skills.
Ah, the wonderful, glorious, luxurious power of routine. By using its relentless regularity we can discover, explore, and develop new interests. With it we can manage the constant drumbeat of demands on our time and psychic energy. Never, ever grumble about routine. It is necessary. It is a gift. Create it. Embrace it. Work with it. Own it. Life will be much easier if you do.
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