I’m Back!

Y’all, I have thought about my blog on and off throughout this year. In the past, I was blogging all the time and loved it. I still love writing and blogging, but I’ll be honest, this past year has gone by so quickly and has been so busy that I was always just too tired to put my thoughts together to blog (and have it make sense). The last time I posted was nearly a year ago. Oh, my! I said all this to say, I am back. Hopefully, all my long time followers will find it a pleasant surprise that I have returned to blogging and plan on posting regularly once again. Maybe, I will get some new followers also.

I am currently sitting in the kitchen. I have home decorating shows from YouTube playing on the TV. Yes, it is a guilty pleasure. I love watching decor shows. My husband indulges my love of decorating. Although, he probably could not care less if we have fall colored sofa pillows or a burnt orange throw blanket. I know you are probably wondering why it is mid-August and I am already thinking of Fall. It is a thing, people. The home decorators are already doing their “Fall Hauls” from Michael’s, Hobby Lobby, and Kirklands. I may or may not have just purchased a rust colored blanket for the couch. Don’t judge.

School, in my county, is not starting until September 10th. This is the first year we were going to start back the day after Labor Day (planned even before the whole COVID thing), but a couple of more days were tacked on to make sure the schools are completely sanitized and all the staff is ready for our new COVID world. I am an intervention specialist (a.k.a special education teacher) with some high school students. All I can say is that the start of this school year will feel odd, unlike anything I have ever experienced in my thirty years of teaching. I am planning on still having fun with my students regardless of masks, sanitizing, and social distancing.

Can I tell y’all something? It is not that I liked being “locked down” for several weeks this past Spring, but there was something nice about not having to be anywhere. Life had become a race to be places and get things done, and being forced to slow down and stay home was not horrible. Mind you, I didn’t want to stay that way forever because after a while I wanted to see people and share some moments. I don’t want social distancing to become social isolation…for any of us. We need each other now, more than ever. What did you think about being forced to stay at home?

During the summer I also complete assessments for local homeschooling families. I am currently in the process of reorganizing my schoolroom/office area. This is no small task. I have accumulated a lot in all my years of teaching/consulting/assessing. When I say “a lot” I mean a dump truck full of stuff give or take. Maybe in another 10 years, I will gift my teaching stuff to families that will use it to continue growing life long learners. I am thankful for all the years I have been blessed to teach. It has been and continues to be, a great gig.

I am excited to be back! See you soon.

I Have To Catch Up

It has been several weeks since I’ve posted. I think it might be the longest I’ve gone without posting, in YEARS. For those of you that don’t know, I’m working on my Masters Degree Autism Spectrum Disorders. There is a lot of reading, a lot of writing, and a lot of researching. There is also a lot of tired (according to me). That is no joke, people. Working, taking grad classes, and having a family, and dealing with, well you know, stuff…. it makes for a bit of crazy. Sunday night I finished, and turned in, my last paper for the semester. I did a little happy dance once I hit the “submit” button. What a relief!

Now I can relax and enjoy my time, and write some blog posts! Tomorrow I will begin my blogging marathon. I have to catch up, after all.

 

Day #1 Of The Challenge-Tell Me A Story

I have decided to commit  to the challenge of writing something each day for the next 31 days. Each day has a writing prompt that will “give me a push” to complete that day’s challenge. Some days the posts will be short, and some days longer, depending on what kind of day I am having. So here goes.

Tell me a story……..

The first time I laid eyes on the school, it made me feel uneasy. The older inner city school looked sad sitting in the midst of this worn down neighborhood. Had I made a mistake? I was beginning to doubt my decision to take a position here.

The days there did indeed turn out to be emotionally, and mentally difficult for me. Many days I felt helpless to make any real changes in the lives of my students. One day in particular, I found myself learning a lesson that I didn’t even know I needed to learn.

His head was laying on his desk, he was obviously too sleepy to even finish his lesson. “Why are you so tired today?”
“My mom made me sleep in the bathtub last night….and it is hard to sleep in a big ol’ tub.”                                                                                                                                                                        “The tub? Don’t you have a bed? Where was your mom? Where was she sleeping?”                 I could feel myself becoming indignant.  What kind of a mother would make her son sleep in a hard, cold tub? The idea was completely foreign to me.                                                               The next day I had opportunity to talk to my student’s mother. I told her that her son had been tired the previous day…he hadn’t slept well.  She looked at me sheepishly and replied, “I know that sounds bad, but I didn’t know what else to do. The gangs have been shooting a lot in the neighborhood the past few nights. I worry that the walls in the housing projects are so thin. When the gunfire got really bad, I put J in the tub. It is a thick, old tub. I figured he would be safe from bullets if he slept in there.”

I learned a valuable lesson that day….not to judge a person’s motives. Not to pretend I understand when I don’t know all the facts. What I thought was neglect, and maybe abuse, was in fact a mother’s selfless love for her child. She placed him in the safest place she could find.

Sometimes things are not always what they seem.

 

 

The Children That Changed Me–The Wrap Up

 The series that I’ve blogged on for the past several days has been a stroll down memory lane for me. I have had many, many students over the years and more stories than I can possibly tell in just a few short days. Even now, I continue to add new stories to my memory book. Each of my students touched me. Each of them special in their own way. I’m grateful to have had the opportunity to meet them. Being a special education teacher has been an adventure. An adventure I am still on. Most of the time when people ask me what I do, I reply “I’m a wife and mom with all the challenges that come with that, a home school teacher, and I teach in special education.” Then a lot of the time I get this response… “Oh, it takes a special person to teach kids like that.” Hmmm…… I’ve given that response some thought.  I don’t consider myself all that special because I teach individuals with special needs. The truth is I feel blessed to have had the opportunity.  It sounds like a pat answer, but it isn’t. I truly mean that. I’m not perfect by any stretch of the imagination….and there were many days that were frustrating and I felt like giving up…but than again nothing in life of any real value comes easily, does it?

Unfortunately, over the years, I’ve had educators tell me that they didn’t really see the point of having my students in their classrooms. “They aren’t going to learn anything anyway.”   “I don’t know what to do with them.” (As if they were a thing, instead of a person!) At first I found it extremely frustrating. After awhile I realized, if the teacher could not look beyond the disability to see the child, then it was their loss. Not all teachers were that way. Thankfully, there were many, many who reached out, worked hard, and met the challenges that special education entails. Both the students and the teachers walked away from the school year having learned something new about each other.  I’ve learned that special education isn’t perfect. It’s a lot of trial and error. Sometimes it’s going back to the drawing board and figuring out something new to try. It’s about not giving up.

One of my greatest treasures of the “special ed world” has been getting to know my student’s parents. Sure there have been some… um…..how shall I say this, interesting ones.  Yet, most of the parents I have met have been good people. I consider it a privilege to know them. Are parents of children with special needs perfect? No. Do they sometimes get angry, or frustrated, or feel sorry for themselves? Sure. They are human. Are they thankful, and happy, and see even the smallest improvement as something to celebrate? Yes. I don’t think parents are perfect. I do think they are real. Many of us will never know the pain of watching our child struggle to eat without a tube. We won’t understand the feeling of knowing that our child can’t be on the local soccer team because he/she can’t walk, much less run. We won’t be able to commiserate about what it is like to see our child struggle to read or write and not have them feel dumb or stupid….or different. Or what about the parent that has a child trapped inside his/her own head, who is smart and funny and creative–but is unable to communicate it, because autism has stolen that from her? Every time, over the years, that I met with a parent I kept this thought foremost in my mind. These parents love their child, imperfections and all. They are requesting my help because they want their child to meet his/her full potential. Whatever that may be for that particular child. They want a chance for their child, just like any other parent. That’s it. So, if there are any parents of children with special needs that are reading my blog today. Thanks goes to you. Really. You are the ones that deserve it.

The Children That Changed Me– The Inner City Chapter

These years were some of the most difficult ones I ever had as a teacher, and as a person. I lost my innocence during those years. My students, through it all, taught me some real world lessons that I have never forgotten.

THE CHILDREN THAT CHANGED ME–PART THREE

In 1995 I started teaching in a new school system. I was placed in an inner city classroom that consisted of nine streetwise boys…all of whom had some sort of emotional/behavioral type of disturbance. I admit at that time I was naive’. I had no idea what lay ahead of me. Let me just suffice to say that during my two years at this particular school I got bit, spit on, threatened, hit, bruised, called every name imaginable and then some. Unfortunately, my assistant and I had to spend more time keeping order than actually teaching. I learned many lessons during my time at this school, with these particular students. Even though these kids had seen and done things that no child really should have to deal with, or any adult for that matter, I was allowed to catch brief glimpses of the truly young children that they were. One young boy had several members of his large family that were mentally ill. An older brother had “a breakdown” one night and broke every window in the house with a ball bat. Then chased his mother and siblings around the house threatening to kill them….until the mother called for help. The next day when this student came into the classroom he was tired, irritable and angry….and really, who could blame him? His own emotional instability didn’t allow him to process what was going on in his life. I appreciated that I had mental health counselors at my disposal to help with the kids, but I still felt inadequate to even make a dent in this child’s life. My heart ached for this six year old little boy, even when he was cussing me to my face.

They were tough, and closed off. Walls had been built up, long before I came on the scene. To be honest with you I spent a lot of those days tired and totally depleted mentally, physically and emotionally. Early on it struck me that at the end of the day I could go home. Home to a husband that loved me, an infant son, a house in a middle class neighborhood where I didn’t have to concern myself with drive-by’s, drug deals, or gangs. A place where I could be refreshed and where I felt safe. My students didn’t have that privilege. I cried for them. I spent time wondering if having me for a teacher would make any difference at all to them. To this day, I’m still not sure. I like to think I did something positive, but I don’t know. I learned that sometimes life, is difficult, no matter how much we wish it wasn’t. Sometimes we just do the best we can. That is all we can do. Then we have to let it go.

The Children That Changed Me–The Story Continues

The early ’90’s seem so long ago and yet not……. the story continues……….

THE CHILDREN THAT CHANGED ME–PART TWO

The time was 1992. I was twenty-four years old and a new bride. After marrying I moved and started teaching in a large suburban elementary school. By 1994 I had a classroom of Danny, Brittany, Josh, Lori Beth and Lilly. My little class was a hoot! We were a motley crew of red hair and freckles, big brown eyes and giggles, glasses,  hand clapping and tiny little feet. I enjoyed that class so much. I have to admit Lori Beth was a favorite. I don’t think Lori Beth’s mom would mind for me to tell you that she has Cri-du-chat syndrome. (French for “cry of the cat”) Lori Beth was a licker. If you got within an arms grab of her….you were hers to lick. She licked everything. Most days I went home smelling like spit. I loved her though. She was a happy little girl. I remember thinking one day, that the world looks on those with “disabilities” as different, or dumb (or unfortunately, much worse). Although it has been my experience that most of these children that I’ve worked with have been happy. Really happy. Not fake happy to try and fool others. They usually don’t sweat over the small stuff. Life is what it is and they move on. Usually, with a pretty good attitude, all things considered. Now, I’m not here to say that my students were all sugar and sweetness. They could have attitudes, cry, throw themselves to the floor, pitch a royal fit, and if they were really into it—spit on me or bite me. Hey, it’s all in a days work. The thing is they didn’t hold a grudge, they moved on. One minute they were kicking on the floor, the next they were holding my hand telling me they loved me. I loved my students for that…..because I always knew where I stood with them. Plain and simple.

Now, back to Lori Beth. In the beginning of school year ’94-’95 I became pregnant. This was all new to Lori Beth. She was amazed to watch as my stomach grew bigger as the school year went on. Her mother asked if it was okay for Lori Beth to touch my belly. She had been talking with Lori Beth about how there was a baby growing inside of me. Now for a  2nd grader with a syndrome that causes intellectual disabilites, going all abstract about babies and how they are inside a woman’s belly, is no easy feat. I gave LB’s mom credit. LB treated me as if I was a precious piece of art. She even contained herself about the licking. I knew she wanted to lick her hand and touch me….it was killing her, but she refrained. (her mom must have given her the lecture about not licking her pregnant teacher. haha!) I was due at the end of the school year…as a matter of fact I missed the last three weeks of school that year. Lori Beth’s mom asked if she could be allowed to bring Lori Beth to the hospital to see me and my new baby. She wanted Lori Beth to see the culmination of all this big belly-ness. True to her word, mom and Lori Beth showed up to see me the day after my delivery. What a precious sight it was. There was Lori Beth listening to her mommy explaining that this was Kendrick, the baby boy that had been growing inside me. She looked at me. She looked at him. She looked at her mom. She was putting it together. It was an “ah ha!” moment.  Chalk one up for real life learning that day.

My goodness, Lori Beth must be somewhere around 27 years old now. All grown up. I miss her.

More stories, more students, tomorrow…….We’ll take up in the year 1995.

What I Want To Be When I Grow Up

Image via Wikipedia

What I want to be when I grow up…..hmmm……

I ask my children about their interests. What do they want to be when they grow up? I get all sorts of answers. Each of my kiddos is soooo very different. Youth minister, IT specialist, chef, car designer, missionary, vet, attorney, own a ranch, live in the city, live in the country, live in Australia, or Ireland or Seattle. So….who knows? All of my children are intelligent and capable. Whatever they set their mind to do, they will do it. I have no doubt.

When I was growing up I decided at around 16 years of age, that I wanted to be a special education teacher. ( if you want to know more detailed information on that, you need to research my past blog entries) I volunteered for the Special Olympics, worked at group homes for developmentally disabled adults, worked camps each summer for special needs individuals, did an independent study during my senior year in high school at a spec. ed preschool, taught Sunday School for disabled people/was a peer buddy, and then graduated from college with a degree in special education and taught for 17 years. Now I do special education consulting for families. It is a passion of mine, if you hadn’t already guessed.

Maybe some day, God will direct me/help me to become the “Erin Brockovich” of special education. Fighting for those who have no voice. I know people personally who are having to argue with  the system on a daily basis to get even the smallest of help for their disabled child. It frustrates me to no end. I do not understand how drug addicts, alcoholics, even sexual predators can get help…and yet, children who can’t walk, are mostly non-verbal, need help even doing the most basic of self help skills can get nothing. I’m not talking “hand outs”, I’m merely asking why not give them a break? I’m tired of hearing the system tell the parents, “You make too much money for us to help you.” (What?!! A middle class salary is hardly going to cut it, when therapies can run a hundred dollars an hour, or equipment can run into the thousands! And this doesn’t even take into account the fact that families may have other children that they are also providing for!) So, should we convey to these parents that their children don’t matter? Or “Sorry, but the school system has a tight budget this year, we’re spread really thin.” (Excuse me, but who cares? You, Mr. School Administrator get federal money for special ed. services. Ever heard of IDEIA? (Individuals with Disabilities Education Improvement Act) What do you mean that using a communication device is not necessary? Let’s see, a machine that will talk for the child, or him not being able to communicate at all? Is this REALLY a choice?

Like most other businesses…the business of special education or special services for disabled adults is just that A BUSINESS. Somewhere along the way the “powers that be” have lost their heart for those who are less fortunate. Those who cry, but don’t shed tears. Those who know what they want to say, but can’t speak. Those who run in their mind, yet have legs that won’t cooperate.

Some might say that I am overly excited about this issue. That I am blowing things out of proportion. That things will “work themselves out”.  Um….when? Who is going to work it out? May I quote you on that? Right now it is a bureaucratic pit of red tape. In the meantime, little is changing. Little is getting done. Time is ticking. Early intervention is going by the wayside. My fear is that health care will not be for those who are the weakest among us. Some of the elite don’t believe the lives of the disabled are worthy of treatment, after all, how are they going to improve society? How will they contribute? What can they DO??? Therapies, equipment or supplements are not deemed “necessary”. Not necessary for whom? It is heart breaking. And frustrating.

And yet…..my desire is to make a difference. To be a voice. I speak out whenever I get the opportunity. I help where I can.

 

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