Splat!

In retrospect, perhaps I should have entitled this blog "The Non-Life of a Sped Teacher." In fact, I saw a button the other day that said "Pick two: Sleep, Job, Social Life. Welcome to Teaching." Doesn't that just about say it all? I honestly do NOT know how people do this when they have spouses and families!

So, I'm back in my first year of teaching. Emotionally and organizationally. (Well, in paycheck too, considering that I had to have my principal sign off for my Master's Degree, so I'm still being paid at the Bachelor's Degree rate. I still can't figure that one out!) I cannot seem to get my head above water this year. My mother calls this hitting the "October Wall." Well, if that's the case, I think the force of the splat is still echoing through the halls.

Here comes my vent. For those of you who know me, this might sound familiar. Believe me, from the inside, it feels like crisis no matter how many times I've been through it.

I am trying to teach 14 kids, working at 3 different levels, with a single aide. The admin wants my "lesson plans" which should incorporate a component called "Snapshot." The theory of the snapshot seems sound--it is a tool to be posted each day, detailing the day's purpose and activities. The point is to let kids know what they will be learning so that they can make connections faster. Problem is, I don't teach lessons, I teach kids. I have a legal responsibility to work on each child's INDIVIDUAL goals, and collect data on their progress once a week. And nobody seems to be able to tell me what a snapshot would look like for this, but daily snapshots are still expected of me. Huh. The few times I've asked for help, I've been told that I need to differentiate, or plan a single unit or lesson with three levels of activities for the groups. Doing a little math, that would mean I need three activities each for four different classes. That's twelve activities in a day. That's 60 activities in a week. That's a lot of time spent at my whiteboard writing up a snapshot.

I don't get enough positive feedback in a day. I never realized how much I depend on little positives, particularly from my superiors. An open-air school does make for a very isolated feeling anyway, but being out in the portable as well, I am even farther away from anyone or anything that could make me feel like I'm doing the right things.

The general education staff doesn't seem to be aware of the fact that the special education teachers, including resource, emotional/behavioural and ELL, have their own classes. I'm serious! They seem to think we each have our list of students, an empty classroom, and all the time in the world to come into every classroom where our kids are and spend the whole period supporting them. OR that we are able to work with any student any period on missing homework or make-up tests. "Can I just send him/her to you for the test?" is a popular question. I'd love to help. I WANT the child to succeed. I will be writing into many IEP's that work should be done in small groups if not individually. But how can I help someone take a test when I've got 8 others waiting for me to teach them?

I have another flair idea: "Pick two: teach lessons, attend meetings, do paperwork. Welcome to Special Education!"

Okay, it's after midnight and this is about as disjointed a journal entry as I have ever composed! I must sleep.

But I have to make just one more note. A good ending place. We are now into our 7th week of school. I have put in over 450 hours, averaging 10 hours a day and working out to about 65 hours per week. I have spent, on supplies, furniture, games, reinforcers and books, over $750. That's a little over $100 per week.

That I am able to breathe is a marvel. That I have no life is observable. That I've gone 5 weeks without doing laundry is lamentable. That I've thrown out a ton of moldy, past-date food, some of it in unopened containers, is unenviable. That I've splatted was inevitable.