To the principal and vice principals of the school where I once worked....
Thank you for hiring me in the first place. Thank you for my first-day tour, and the mentor you arranged for me to have the first month I was there.
Thank you for smiling at me in the hallways, and for telling people that I fell from the sky.
Thank you for always coming to my room to help out when I called to say I needed a little backup. Thank you for sending me and my class away so you could deal with the problem yourself if need be. Thank you for standing there, outside my classroom, in the hallways and even in the gym while the child who had the problem screamed, kicked, flailed, pooped, and otherwise tried to wear you down. (Thank you for finding the humor in all of this.)
Thank you for chuckling whenever you spotted me wearing a new colour of shoes. Thank you for noticing that they matched my shirt.
Thank you for your support, your encouragement, and your high expectations. Thank you for offering to help when you found something going a little askew in my classroom.
Thank you for knowing all of the great things there were to know about my kids. Thanks for not blaming them if we didn't quite meet AYP. Thanks for realizing that special education students are wonderful, valuable members of the school community. Thank you for creating this tone in your building. Thanks for talking to them in the cafeteria--they always told me if you did.
Thank you for fighting tooth and nail for sufficient aide time.
Thank you for protecting me from an onslaught of district trainings and requirements that had nothing to do with me anyway. Thanks for letting me spend inservice time in my classroom. Thank you for being the wall between me and overbearing parents, for setting limits to their well-intentioned madness. Thank you for being the place where the buck stopped. Thank you for realizing that enough was enough.
Thank you for the positive feedback whenever you came into my classroom.
Thank you for that little silver keyring flashlight on the retractable string--the one you gave me for teacher appreciation day that said "you're appreciated" on it. It SAVED me from freaking out when I discovered (at 9 o'clock at night) that the exterior lights at my new school are turned off on the weekends.
THANK YOU FOR MDT's!!!
Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou for MDT's. For the weekly chance to meet with all of the colleagues I needed to talk to in order to do my job. For taking the lead on this, and keeping yourselves in the loop. Thanks for always expecting us to be there at 7:30 sharp and done by 8 sharp, and for refusing to schedule ANYTHING else at that time.
Thank you for the peer tutor program.
Thank you for the "bottomless" supply of free bussing for field trips. Thank you for believing, as I do, that kids who don't have book skills need life skills.
Thanks for showing up for IEP meetings.
Thank you for asking me how I was doing, and staying to listen to my reply. Thanks for knowing that "I'm fine" doesn't always mean "I'm fine." Thanks for actually being there when you said you would be there if I needed help.
Thank you for recognizing me as a professional, and treating me like an intelligent, skilled educator.
Thank you for giving me a master key.
Thank you for keeping my program out of the portables at all costs. Let me say that one again--THANK YOU for keeping my program in the heart of the building, right where all of the other kids are.
Thank you for letting me schedule my kids into general education classes, even if they couldn't quite do the work, because you knew they needed to be with non-disabled peers.
Thank you for stopping by for our "Family Dinner" event every year--the kids were always so tickled when you did, especially the ones whose parents couldn't make it.
Thank you for always making sure I knew how to do what you expected me to do.
Thank you for telling me you'd hire me back in a heartbeat. It is a sentiment I cling to.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Friday, October 17, 2008
Three at last!!
Okay, well, to be perfectly honest, I didn't leave until 3:15, but STILL!! That marks only the 5th day since school started that I put in less than 9 hours (not counting weekends or days I was trying to pass kidney stones,) AND one of my earliest times leaving.
That was yesterday. Today I left at 3:30 again--that makes two days IN A ROW! But today couldn't be helped. My brain had been turned to jelly by an inservice that was frustrating, confusing, irritating and really quite wasteful.
A friend of mine called things like this "the church of what's happening now" meaning full-scale belief of and preaching about a "miracle" solution for a district with many schools in AYP jail.
Thanks to No Child Left Behind, the measure of a good school now comes down to test scores on impossibly difficult state assessments. Doesn't matter what their background is, what their native language is, or what disability they might have--and not even mentioning learning styles or test-taking skills--all students must take and pass the same test, or the whole school fails to make Adequate Yearly Progress (AYP). If a school fails to make AYP for two years in a row, it goes into a state of intense scrutiny and general overhaul called "AYP jail."
As a result, the teachers are subjected to regular trainings on "new" and "innovative" programs and teaching styles that, according to numerous vague studies, are proven to raise test scores when used with fidelity.
While relatively new teachers might look at these programs with genuine wonder and optimism, anyone who has been in the biz for around 10 years or so raises a skeptical eyebrow. That is because, in their 10+ years of service to public schools, they've seen "new" and "innovative" programs introduced EVERY SINGLE YEAR. Each one throws the veteran educator into an extreme sense of deja vu, as being quite similar to one of it's predecessors, but with a new twist or flair. The veteran educator can, by now, quite accurately identify a flash-in-the-pan, or church-of-what-is-happeing-now program. The mutterings are similar--"well this is different. Wonder what we'll get next year." No program is allowed to mature or be implemented with fidelity because, of course, AYP must be made or interventions must adapt and continue each year. Is it November yet?
But today's "training" didn't cover much that was new, or anything that was particularly useful. It began at 8:00, and by 8:20 I'd pretty much shut down. Unfortunately, ex-teacher administrators almost NEVER teach adults the way they tell us to teach children. They lecture. They point fingers. They walk around waving their arms. No visuals, no clear objectives, no fun activities to tie in the instruction to something meaningful.
I hope I'm not quizzed on it later, because I heard maybe 20% of the litany.
But hey! I was so exhausted by my lack of brain useage that I left school in time to throw a few things in overnight mail to my parents, stop at the store and make it back to the house while it was still light out!
Hitting the wall appears to have been a good thing. I've had to stop, look around, pick myself back up and start all over again. But this time, I ran in the direction of the mall, bought a game FOR MYSELF and shopped around for wacky-coloured shoes.
And tomorrow, I think I'll COOK!! I haven't done that in MONTHS! It would be so nice to eat a meal that wasn't frozen, freeze-dried or canned!
PLEASE VOTE THIS NOVEMBER!
That was yesterday. Today I left at 3:30 again--that makes two days IN A ROW! But today couldn't be helped. My brain had been turned to jelly by an inservice that was frustrating, confusing, irritating and really quite wasteful.
A friend of mine called things like this "the church of what's happening now" meaning full-scale belief of and preaching about a "miracle" solution for a district with many schools in AYP jail.
Thanks to No Child Left Behind, the measure of a good school now comes down to test scores on impossibly difficult state assessments. Doesn't matter what their background is, what their native language is, or what disability they might have--and not even mentioning learning styles or test-taking skills--all students must take and pass the same test, or the whole school fails to make Adequate Yearly Progress (AYP). If a school fails to make AYP for two years in a row, it goes into a state of intense scrutiny and general overhaul called "AYP jail."
As a result, the teachers are subjected to regular trainings on "new" and "innovative" programs and teaching styles that, according to numerous vague studies, are proven to raise test scores when used with fidelity.
While relatively new teachers might look at these programs with genuine wonder and optimism, anyone who has been in the biz for around 10 years or so raises a skeptical eyebrow. That is because, in their 10+ years of service to public schools, they've seen "new" and "innovative" programs introduced EVERY SINGLE YEAR. Each one throws the veteran educator into an extreme sense of deja vu, as being quite similar to one of it's predecessors, but with a new twist or flair. The veteran educator can, by now, quite accurately identify a flash-in-the-pan, or church-of-what-is-happeing-now program. The mutterings are similar--"well this is different. Wonder what we'll get next year." No program is allowed to mature or be implemented with fidelity because, of course, AYP must be made or interventions must adapt and continue each year. Is it November yet?
But today's "training" didn't cover much that was new, or anything that was particularly useful. It began at 8:00, and by 8:20 I'd pretty much shut down. Unfortunately, ex-teacher administrators almost NEVER teach adults the way they tell us to teach children. They lecture. They point fingers. They walk around waving their arms. No visuals, no clear objectives, no fun activities to tie in the instruction to something meaningful.
I hope I'm not quizzed on it later, because I heard maybe 20% of the litany.
But hey! I was so exhausted by my lack of brain useage that I left school in time to throw a few things in overnight mail to my parents, stop at the store and make it back to the house while it was still light out!
Hitting the wall appears to have been a good thing. I've had to stop, look around, pick myself back up and start all over again. But this time, I ran in the direction of the mall, bought a game FOR MYSELF and shopped around for wacky-coloured shoes.
And tomorrow, I think I'll COOK!! I haven't done that in MONTHS! It would be so nice to eat a meal that wasn't frozen, freeze-dried or canned!
PLEASE VOTE THIS NOVEMBER!
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
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.
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.
Friday, October 3, 2008
OMG
Dear Parent,
Due to stipulations outlined in IDEA and NCLB, as well as the WAC, our school's MDT team would like to revise your child's IEP in order to help our school achieve AYP. Placement in the RR was found appropriate, however, participation in the WASL might not be. We recommend the WAAS. The team did consider a 504, as well as ESY, however, we feel the current placement is the most appropriate. We believe this will provide FAPE in the LRE. Your child is eligible under the category of SLD, with a secondary of HI, which has to do with ADHD. We would like your input as we update the FBA and rewrite the BIP. We will keep the EALRs and GLEs, as well as RTI data, in mind as we look at goals. The SLP, OT and PT will all be providing services. It is necessary for you to sign and return the enclosed P to T ASAP, so we may administer the WJ-R. If you have concerns, please look at the handbook provided by OSPI to review your rights.
Thank you,
Miss Mandy
RR SPED Teacher, -MS
-EA
Due to stipulations outlined in IDEA and NCLB, as well as the WAC, our school's MDT team would like to revise your child's IEP in order to help our school achieve AYP. Placement in the RR was found appropriate, however, participation in the WASL might not be. We recommend the WAAS. The team did consider a 504, as well as ESY, however, we feel the current placement is the most appropriate. We believe this will provide FAPE in the LRE. Your child is eligible under the category of SLD, with a secondary of HI, which has to do with ADHD. We would like your input as we update the FBA and rewrite the BIP. We will keep the EALRs and GLEs, as well as RTI data, in mind as we look at goals. The SLP, OT and PT will all be providing services. It is necessary for you to sign and return the enclosed P to T ASAP, so we may administer the WJ-R. If you have concerns, please look at the handbook provided by OSPI to review your rights.
Thank you,
Miss Mandy
RR SPED Teacher, -MS
-EA
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