Inept: the state of having or showing no skill, clumsy.
Some days in special education leave me feeling inept, to say the least. Take last Monday, for example. I had my day all worked out—in advance, no less. First thing, I was going to take a few minutes to get ready for a parent meeting in the afternoon. After that, at 9:00 a.m., I had a meeting with another teacher and our social worker with a new, incoming student. That should take about a half an hour. When that was done, I had it on my list to go back to the class where one of my staff was conducting part of our campus day. That’s the day when we get together in small groups to work on classroom discussions and activities revolving around social skills, practicing money and time skills—that sort of thing. I figured I’d do that until noon, and then it would be lunch with the students, which would then blend nicely into our afternoon activities, which, in turn, would run until the end of the school day. That was my plan. That’s what I had written down. My neatly written plan crumbled immediately in the face of reality. In fact, last Monday’s reality was a whole civilization away from my “plan.”
The weather report called for scattered clouds and occasional light rain showers. Mr. Weather Man didn’t mention the steady drizzle, mixed with that Styrofoam looking snow-like stuff--and a howling wind. Beside all the reminders to the students, let alone the staff, to dress according to the weather, guess how many students and staff showed up prepared for the rain. Exactly NONE! Yes, none! (Well, it seemed like none.) Believe me, our students are fair weather workers. With sunny skies and highs in the mid-70s, they just might go to their work sites willingly—maybe even happily. But mix in some cold-from-the-sky water and temperatures hovering around 45 degrees, and you have a surly crowd on your hands.
It would be quite enough if some of the students were plain old surly. Then you’d know what you were dealing with. But, no, some of them have to pull out all the behavioral stops to get out of work. There’s something about the first nasty weather day of the year that brings all their goofy strategies to the fore. One kid suddenly developed an “awful stomach ache.” Another went into the bathroom and proceeded to throw up. I had no idea he could puke on demand. You learn something new every day. One girl, who weighs at least 325 pounds, decided to just shut down. I mean, it’s as if she has an on/off switch in there somewhere. If she were a computer, she went into a hard shutdown. “Leave her where she sits. We ain’t budging her, no how.”
About this time one of the staff members came to me to report she needed to go home. She said she had to stop twice on the way to work to throw up. Whatever. “We’ll see you tomorrow. Hope you feel better.” (Stupid rain.) Great. Now we’re short handed. Time to do the shuck and jive staff shuffle to make sure everything is covered. Oh, I almost forgot. I’ve got to change Rod. He’s the kid with spina bifida who needs help toileting. Translation: he needs help changing his adult diaper. He is also on anti-rejection meds because he received a new kidney about two years ago. These meds sometimes cause the worst diarrhea you can imagine. Rod and I jokingly call them “blowouts.” Today, however, he had an industrial strength blowout. Time to put on the Mother Teresa hat, hold on to the old stomach-flutter muscles, and dive in. In the end, that change job was quite a workout. Oops. Almost forgot. Time to head out for the 9:00 meeting.
“I’ll be back in about a half an hour.” Famous last words. The student we meet with was very pleasant and seemed quite bright. But man, what a life she has led. She just moved into a group home three weeks ago. That’s after having moved about 40—yes, forty (40) times in the last ten years, bouncing from one professional parent household to another. Mixed in all that was a stint living in a mental health facility. Let’s see here. Oh, good. Behavior problems. Ya think? It ends up she has pummeled someone in every household she’s lived in. It took an hour and a half to sort out all of her “stuff.” Luckily, I didn’t get her. She’s too capable for my crowd. Whew.
I get back to the class around 11:00. One of our groups has already returned from the work site. There was nothing to do there today. Pretty soon everyone is back. The old relo is getting crowded—with surly kids and staff. Tensions are rising. Some of the kids are picking verbal fights with each other. Time for action.
“You, you and you, and you three over there. Let’s go to the choral room. You six, go with So and So and play basketball.” That leaves just a few in the classroom who are busy with other things. Well, the day came to an end, and, oddly enough, it felt like a successful day. Maybe it felt successful because it was all so typical. But is sure wasn’t what I had in mind.
Some days in special education leave me feeling inept, to say the least. Take last Monday, for example. I had my day all worked out—in advance, no less. First thing, I was going to take a few minutes to get ready for a parent meeting in the afternoon. After that, at 9:00 a.m., I had a meeting with another teacher and our social worker with a new, incoming student. That should take about a half an hour. When that was done, I had it on my list to go back to the class where one of my staff was conducting part of our campus day. That’s the day when we get together in small groups to work on classroom discussions and activities revolving around social skills, practicing money and time skills—that sort of thing. I figured I’d do that until noon, and then it would be lunch with the students, which would then blend nicely into our afternoon activities, which, in turn, would run until the end of the school day. That was my plan. That’s what I had written down. My neatly written plan crumbled immediately in the face of reality. In fact, last Monday’s reality was a whole civilization away from my “plan.”
The weather report called for scattered clouds and occasional light rain showers. Mr. Weather Man didn’t mention the steady drizzle, mixed with that Styrofoam looking snow-like stuff--and a howling wind. Beside all the reminders to the students, let alone the staff, to dress according to the weather, guess how many students and staff showed up prepared for the rain. Exactly NONE! Yes, none! (Well, it seemed like none.) Believe me, our students are fair weather workers. With sunny skies and highs in the mid-70s, they just might go to their work sites willingly—maybe even happily. But mix in some cold-from-the-sky water and temperatures hovering around 45 degrees, and you have a surly crowd on your hands.
It would be quite enough if some of the students were plain old surly. Then you’d know what you were dealing with. But, no, some of them have to pull out all the behavioral stops to get out of work. There’s something about the first nasty weather day of the year that brings all their goofy strategies to the fore. One kid suddenly developed an “awful stomach ache.” Another went into the bathroom and proceeded to throw up. I had no idea he could puke on demand. You learn something new every day. One girl, who weighs at least 325 pounds, decided to just shut down. I mean, it’s as if she has an on/off switch in there somewhere. If she were a computer, she went into a hard shutdown. “Leave her where she sits. We ain’t budging her, no how.”
About this time one of the staff members came to me to report she needed to go home. She said she had to stop twice on the way to work to throw up. Whatever. “We’ll see you tomorrow. Hope you feel better.” (Stupid rain.) Great. Now we’re short handed. Time to do the shuck and jive staff shuffle to make sure everything is covered. Oh, I almost forgot. I’ve got to change Rod. He’s the kid with spina bifida who needs help toileting. Translation: he needs help changing his adult diaper. He is also on anti-rejection meds because he received a new kidney about two years ago. These meds sometimes cause the worst diarrhea you can imagine. Rod and I jokingly call them “blowouts.” Today, however, he had an industrial strength blowout. Time to put on the Mother Teresa hat, hold on to the old stomach-flutter muscles, and dive in. In the end, that change job was quite a workout. Oops. Almost forgot. Time to head out for the 9:00 meeting.
“I’ll be back in about a half an hour.” Famous last words. The student we meet with was very pleasant and seemed quite bright. But man, what a life she has led. She just moved into a group home three weeks ago. That’s after having moved about 40—yes, forty (40) times in the last ten years, bouncing from one professional parent household to another. Mixed in all that was a stint living in a mental health facility. Let’s see here. Oh, good. Behavior problems. Ya think? It ends up she has pummeled someone in every household she’s lived in. It took an hour and a half to sort out all of her “stuff.” Luckily, I didn’t get her. She’s too capable for my crowd. Whew.
I get back to the class around 11:00. One of our groups has already returned from the work site. There was nothing to do there today. Pretty soon everyone is back. The old relo is getting crowded—with surly kids and staff. Tensions are rising. Some of the kids are picking verbal fights with each other. Time for action.
“You, you and you, and you three over there. Let’s go to the choral room. You six, go with So and So and play basketball.” That leaves just a few in the classroom who are busy with other things. Well, the day came to an end, and, oddly enough, it felt like a successful day. Maybe it felt successful because it was all so typical. But is sure wasn’t what I had in mind.
2 comments:
Now I feel like I have it easy. The toilets may be toilets but are completely stationary.
Keep the posts coming. I really enjoy them.
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