When too much is enough

Nothing boils my blood faster than being across the meeting table from a woman who sits there with a perpetual frown. The lines are etched in her face. She has perfected the scowl. She flicks papers in an important way and clutches the pen she is holding, as though about to take note of something that irritates her. Her eyes are narrow, suspicious. She seems offended.

I hope I never become her.

She was a teacher. I don't know how she came to be the person that sits across from me now. The person who grimaces at the thought of a new student in her class. The person who whines, argues, complains....

Did she start out this way? Did she become a teacher knowing that she didn't really care about kids at all? Or was all of the passion bled from her in the continual fight to do her job ethically with no money, no supplies and no support to speak of? Did years of testing students who could barely read, on grade-level standards that held no meaning, grind the joy out of her? Did the continual complaints of parents, administrators, legislators and community members blind her to the sight of a child in need?

I can't help it. My blood is still boiling and it's not because I'm mad at whatever it is that has brought her to this. I'm mad at her. She's complaining about having a child in her class! He doesn't fit in, he's a nuisance, a disruption...unwelcome. Before he has even started working with her, he has been written off in such a way that he will never be able to learn from her. She doesn't want him there. He will know, even if she never actually says the words. And what will he learn from that? Where will he go, when this safe haven of education teaches him that being different means being unwelcome?

No, he doesn't really fit in my classroom, either. I'm happy to say that he's much too high-functioning for a program such as mine. He has a label that seems to fit. The Team has decided that he should be with me to learn some of the skills that he lacks. Perhaps they hope that there is something I can help him with. Perhaps they are looking for a place to dump him. It's not a perfect fit, and not by far the best that we can do for him.

But come Monday, he'll meet a smile at my door, or I don't deserve to be standing there.

New year, new adventures

Beth says that I will quickly make the word "adventure" synonymous with something akin to "catastrophe" but I can't help it. Life is an adventure, and the life of a Sped teacher is just too action-packed to be called anything else!

So, the new school year has begun. My assistant (and student teacher,) Mark, took the suddenly-open position of the ERR teacher in our severe/profound room. The teacher there (my replacement when I moved to WA, for those of you who follow my meanderings) took a job at an elementary school, and we all wish her the best. I think Mark will be an excellent replacement, and we already know we work well together. We both look forward to a program that is fluid, with lots of support and interaction between the kiddos.

I sent 8 of my cherubs to the high school last year, so my program is pretty depleted. Please, don't share this with the Powers That Be, but there are only 13 kids on my caseload at the moment!! I am, of course, providing services for some of Mark's kids (and he for some of mine) as well as some kids from the E/BD program, but it is a very light year, so far. (Knocks fervently on the nearest wooden bookshelf!)

I really like my schedule and my classroom, too. The room is probably the most open and functional I have ever had. There aren't too many congested areas, and it's clean. Again, so far. =)

This school year has come with a marked change for me--I am suddenly very organized! Several times, Beth (aka my brain) has reminded me to do something, only to find that I've already done it. I have taken attendance on time, kept up with faxes to independent service companies who pester me with requests for IEP's and eligibilities non-stop, called or emailed parents with updates, questions and schedule changes, helped Mark with some paperwork, and kept my desk fairly clean! I think this must be a symptom of my very calm outlook toward the year. It must be SOMETHING like that, right? Again...so far.

Other highlights--more students, teachers and parents have asked Beth and I if we are twins than have ever done so before. We are amused, and reckon we must be channelling some residual Weasley twin energy since our trip to Orlando.

Also, what about the open aide position (Mark's job) you ask? We did some interviews during the first week on duty, and settled on a woman who has lots of experience with kids, and a very open and positive attitude. She starts on Tuesday, and was so excited when we gave her the job that she almost cried, and swept both Beth and I into great hugs. I am hopeful, but more than that, ecstatic to be done with the sub we endured for the first week! (Some horrors cannot be described.)

So, keywords for the year so far: organized, promising, light, and as always, an adventure!

OINK

Six weeks in, time for a status update.

Total hours logged so far: 380
(This averages out to 14 hours per day.)

Total number of parents irked with me: 2
Total number of said parents threatening to sue the district: 0

Total number of administrators irked with me: 0
Total number of informal observations by said administrators: 3

Students added to my program since the first day of school: 7
Students dropped or moved away: 1

Number of students on my caseload: 16

IEP's out of compliance: 2
(I must add in my own defence that these came due this week and I have a GOOD excuse.)

Total number of sick days used so far: 4 (soon to be 7)

BECAUSE
I have the flu. Probably the new flu, which has two equally horrible names I'd rather not use. It is The Flu. And it's gross. And I shudder to think how much farther behind I will be/feel after a WHOLE WEEK away. However, I don't have any desire to go into my classroom as I normally would to have things ironclad for a sub because I do NOT want any of my kiddos getting this!

So, for six weeks in it's not perfect, but it's not bad!
And now, I'm going to go lay down.

Finnegan begin again....

"There was a man named Michael Finnegan,
He grew whiskers on his chin again,
He shaved 'em off, but they grew in again,
Poor old Michael Finnegan, begin again."

Everything seems to go in circles. Cycles. A year ends, another begins. Finish to Start and back around. This is the theme of my mind's wanderings of late. Boomerang. I am back to where I started, and it feels very right to be here. I am welcomed with smiles and arms open (yes, and rolled eyes, but why not?)

My new school is my old school. I have a new room, with new furniture and old furniture. I have a new aide and an old one. I have familiar students, and unfamiliar ones. People to say "Nice to meet you" to, and others to whom I can say, "It's nice to see you again."

I have new ideas, also. Mixed with the freedom to exercise my old ideas, I don't want to let go of the new thinking. I want to push myself a bit harder, expect more and do more. Demand excellence of myself, that I might in turn coax it from others.

I'm excited about the new school year. This is a cycle, also. Teachers generally begin the new year excited and in a state of high anticipation. By October or so, the shine wears off a little, and we lose impetus around December, when we glide greatfully into Winter Break. Winters are often low and somewhat disillusioned, but with lengthening days, more direct sunlight and warm thermals come new ideas and plans, hope and challenge. We know what this year has brought, and we are already looking toward next, without quite relinquishing our hold on this one. By June, we release, and hold out our hands for the next year. New, yet old. Boomerang!

I am also oddly calm about this year. I generally get all worked up, wanting things to be perfect and smooth from day one, working myself into a frenzy just to be frustrated by imperfection. I already know the flight will wobble, I will be tested and tried and may even crash and burn. No matter what happens, however, I know I'll be back again next year and anticipating the flight.

Because it's flight! Wobbly or smooth, high or low, it is miraculous motion! It is learning, teaching, laughing, crying, worrying and hoping. It is loving a handful of kids who were made perfectly imperfect, and hoping to teach them a little of the joy of flight until they take off themselves.

Circles, cycles...round and around....
And so it begins again....

Feeling the love

You know, so many people get instantly angry, hurt, offended and worried when something like this happens. I'm probably NOT normal (but then who thought I was?) but my first thought was "HA! Looks like someone was busy last night!" I don't know why, but I find it perversely amusing how some people choose to waste their time.

On the other hand, it really upset the operation of my classroom that morning. The grumpy district painters were out trying to cover it up with beige paint, in the rain, which of course had no effect whatsoever on the dark blue and brown lettering. By the end of the day, we could still read the writing, and suddenly had to walk carefully around the puddles of beige all over the grass, and try not to brush against the beige-smeared walls.

My kids, luckily, didn't recognize most of the gang references (nor did I in point of fact, though the adults pointed them out to me,) but they have no problem recognizing the very clear four-letter words, and they spent the majority of the morning asking who had done it, why someone had done it, and if the people responsible were going to get into trouble. None of them said they felt personally targeted, but it must have been an odd sensation to walk past the angry writing all day.

I, too, wonder who it was. I wonder why they chose our school (it wasn't done just on the portable--it was all over the outer walls of the gym and cafeteria.) I wonder if it was just anger in search of a blank canvass, or if the message was intended for our school in particular. Did the taggers want to send messages to public schools or teachers? If so, what on Earth could we have done to these poor people to have engendered such rage? (I have theories, of course. *coughWASLcough*)

In the end, I hope it was just kids with too much time on their hands and enough spare change for some spray paint. I hope it wasn't a kid who "fell through the cracks." Because I've got a lot of those in my room every day, and I see the frustration there sometimes. I just hope I never notice blue fingertips.

SPECIAL Education

A few days ago, while working on a math problem, one of my kiddos looked up at me and said, "Who invented numbers?" I told him I didn't know. He then asked, "How did they know how to make them look right? You know, a one looks like just one of something, and a two kind of looks like it's two things. How did they do that?" I wanted to hug him!

This week, while reading an article about IFO's (Identified Flying Objects) my students ran across the term "lenticular clouds" and chose it as a vocabulary word. While completing a Frayer model wherein they had to explain what the object was NOT, they wrote "It's not a UFO." I wanted to cheer!

Two days ago, I wrote an IEP for a student who is qualified (to my intense horror) as "Mentally Retarded." I then got to tell her mother that I was advancing her to the higher-level reading class because she was making such great growth. I wanted to burst with pride.

Last week, I called a parent to give her a good report about her son's behaviour in my class. She laughed a little, then in a very thick voice said, "I used to hold my breath when I saw it was the school calling, thinking 'what did he do this time?' Thank you so much." I wanted to cry.

Yesterday, a student of mine received a certificate for getting a "Pride" card. (This is a way to reward random acts of kindness and positive behaviour in our school.) While holding the orange certificate over her head for all to see, she proudly announced, "It's my first one!!" I had to smile.

A few weeks ago, a very shy, socially immature young man came into class. Unprepared as usual, he fished around in my "Borrow Me" box until he found a pencil. The pencil he lifted out was violently pink, with sparkly hearts all over it. He looked at the pencil for a moment, then looked at me and said "Well, if that isn't the manliest pencil I ever saw!" With that he heaved a resigned sigh and went to his desk. I laughed so hard I almost couldn't breathe. (He brought his own pencil the next day.)

Today, the bell rang at the end of a period, and one of my students looked up and said "It's time to go already?" I told him it was okay, he would be back tomorrow. I will be, too.

This is why.

Improvement

I must apologize to my avid readers for my long absence from the blog spot, but the holidays came along and comandeered all of my "spare" time. The three snow days we enjoyed in there were a beautifully timed blessing, and the two weeks of Winter Break could not have been more welcome.

But, school is back in session and the stories just keep getting better!

The post-holiday rainstorms that flooded much of the southern part of King County also took their toll on my portable. The water seeped in under the off-kilter door, all the way to my desk, where it spoiled just a few of the books I had stacked on the floor there. *sigh* At last, the work order that our custodian put in weeks before the break was filled and a gentleman with a large white truck and huge pliers came out to fix the door. It took him all of five minutes. We haven't had enough rain to really put the seal to the test, but I'm hoping that our flooding problem will be solved at last (although I do still worry about the dry-rot that MUST be going on under there!)

The improvements to the overall structure of my portable are not the only changes being made around my school, I can assure you! On the contrary, the structural improvments are merely an aside to the total overhaul going on with one formerly-talented and prized Special Education teacher! Can you guess who I mean?

Apparently, a Master's degree in Special Education, five years of experience in Idaho, numerous professional development classes and rave reviews from everyone I've ever worked with, or for, carry little or no weight in this district. And so, hence cometh the Plan of Improvement. A four-page document of the things I am NOT doing was given to me just prior to the holiday break. (Merry Christmas!) Naturally, very little has accompanied it as to HOW these things I am currently not doing should be done in a classroom such as mine. And of course, the Plan was not couched in the terms typically used by those in the educational field (i.e. "You're doing great in these areas, but we need to work on these things....") but rather, it was a laundry list of "you really should know all this" and "we are concerned that these things are not apparent in your classroom" or, my personal favourite "your expectations seem to be extremely low, and you create activities designed to keep your students performing at a very low level." And, curiously, nothing in the plan indicated that I was teaching a special needs class.

Now, I don't want to seem...conceited or superior here, but last time I checked, special education teachers were in some level of demand. In fact, we in the profession could easily find work in just about any district in any state in the country. So it does seem...confusing that this particular district does so little to retain the few teachers it's managed to attract. I have an inkling that it may not be a district-wide mentality, but it is certainly in evidence at my school, which is even more of a contradiction, as they went the entirety of last school year with a special education position open! A situation which they seem determined to repeat.

So, my Plan. "Improvement" seems to mean, in large part, "prepare students for state tests so high above their instructional level that you can guarantee serious classroom management issues for an entire month as the students attempt to take them." Improvement also means, near as I can tell, the flagrant diregard of all of the issues that put students in the category of "special needs" in the first place. I am, it seems, not supposed to use the IEP to design instruction. Nor am I supposed to use special education evaluation information to determine the students' areas of need. (I'm supposed to use those tests--remember, the ones they can't even read? Yes, those are the tools by which I am to determine what students are and are not capable of.) I am supposed to...streamline...goals and objectives. (Translated: make them all the same.) So, the GEP--it can't really be called an "I"EP if it's not Individualized, can it?--is merely a pile of paperwork that I must by all means keep current and compliant just so it can sit in the back of a file cabinet being current, compliant and completely useless.

I'm not sure I care to improve this much.

Attempting to embrace moments in life like this as learning opportunities, however, I have been trying to learn how to plan like a general education professional. My activities are not individualized at all, but rather, differentiated. I am not doing anything that might be accessible to kinesthetic, visual or artistic learners because, and I have to quote this, "You aren't an art teacher!" I am not teaching life skills, I am teaching reading, writing and math.

I am not teaching students, I'm teaching standards.

They keep using this word "improvement." I do not think it means what they think it means.

Qualities of a Good Special Education Teacher
By Sue Watson, About.com

Have you ever wondered what makes a great special education teacher? What separates a mediocre teacher from a terrific teacher? It's not easy to define, however, here's a list of qualities listed by parents, principals, educators and students.

Are you a Top Special Education Teacher?
1. You love your role, you love being with your students and you couldn't imagine doing anything else. You were meant to teach special needs children, you know this in your heart.
2. You have a great deal of patience and know that little steps in learning go a long way.
3. You know your students well and they are comfortable and at ease with you, they enjoy having you as their teacher and look forward to going school each day.
4. You provide a non-threatening, welcoming environment that nurtures each of the students you work with.
5. You understand your students, you know what motivates them and you know how to scaffold activities to ensure that maximum learning occurs.
6. You take each student from where they are and provide experiences that will maximize success. You're always discovering new things about your students.
7. You are very comfortable working with exceptional learners and learners with diverse needs.
8. You thrive on challenge, can easily build relationships with your students and your student's parents.
9. You are a life-long learner and committed to the profession.
10. You have a never ending willingness to ensure that all students reach their maximum potential. You constantly strive to 'reach and teach' every student under your care.
***********************************************

I think most of this list is for others to judge if I fit the descriptions. I don't feel like I'm quite there just yet, but it is nice to know where I am headed, if I ever get there. I know I love my students, and I hope they like coming to school every day, and if they learn one little thing from me and I learn one little thing from them, then it has been a very good day in my estimation.

Pros and Cons--Portable Classrooms

Cons:
My portable has a very old porch and wheelchair ramp. There is a kind of dip in the deck in front of the doors, probably the result of more years of use than the structure was originally intended for, that collects water. On cold mornings, this thin sheet of moisture becomes a skating rink which makes the ramp an adventure. Later in the day, it settles into a small pond.

If it rains very hard, the small pond slowly leaks under my door, saturating the carpet all the way over to the foot of my desk. I shudder to think of the dry rot going on under there.

There is no overhang of roof to cover the porch. Kids wanting to be on time to class must stand out in the rain until I race to my classroom after early-morning meetings that invariably run right up until 8 o'clock. Kids wanting to stay dry wait in the hallway by the back of the gym, only racing the thirty or so yards to my door at the four-minute bell, or when they see the whites of my eyes. On rainy days, I rarely keep track of tardies.

My door is off-kilter. Probably again the result of the overuse of a TEMPORARY structure. It neither closes nor opens without the considerable application of force.

The main power switch to the structure is on the OUTSIDE of the north wall. There is a large handle that can be easily pulled down to rob us of power. Local jokesters have identified this bright red handle and enjoy pulling it periodically, particularly, it appears, over weekends when I have a large amount of paperwork to catch up on. I can reach it if I bring a chair outside. (I have to smile thinking about a tower of sixth-graders on each others' shoulders, working so hard to inconvenience me.)

We trip power fuses frequently, and have had to rearrange computers, printers, lights and portable heaters several times in order to balance the drain of power between the three fuses. Once again, the tripping generally occurs at very opportune moments--like after writing an IEP but just seconds before the mouse icon gets to the SAVE button.

We have ants. They have spent weeks trotting in long lines across our desks, from the windows and up and down the walls...doubtless through the cracks created by years of use and the unchecked dry rot that occurs after the rooms flood. The district pest control folks only come out when the ants are sleeping in, and they won't do anything about them unless they actually see the buggers out and about. Our building janitor cannot spray because it's toxic to a learning environment. I have to brush them away in order to work at my computer.

Our building has four-minute passing periods. It takes ME about four and a half minutes to walk, in long quick strides, from my door to the resource room on the other end of the building--and this is BEFORE school, when I don't have to navigate around and through seven hundred students, and then only if I don't have to stop at the bathroom. I only count kids tardy when I can't see them racing for my door after the bell has rung, and if they have to go to the bathroom five minutes into class, I have a hard time telling them to wait until I'm done directly instructing. It's difficult to teach with all that wiggling going on, anyway.

Pros:
Visiting district bigwigs apparently don't fancy walking that far just to wait, standing in a puddle in the rain, while I try to open my door for them.

Arithmetic

The school year has now been in session for 50 days. That's 48 student contact days, one inservice and one "data" day. If a teacher's day is to be 7.5 hours long with a .5 hour lunch, that means I should have put in 350 hours to date. According to my records, I have put in roughly 565 hours so far this school year. That means I have effectually donated 215 hours of my own time to this job, this school and this district. (For the record, that's 21.5 hours per week, or an extra 4 hours per day.) The district is paying me about $43,000 a year for 180 days of work, or 1,260 hours. That comes out to just a little over $34 an hour. By that calculation, then, I have given this discrict over $7,300!! If I had picked up even a minimum wage job instead, at $8 an hour, I could have earned $1,700 for those 215 hours, which would have neatly covered the $700 I've already spent on supplies, books, rewards and manipulatives AND given me about $500 extra per month to put toward rent, car payments, student loans and my VISA bill.

I think I need to have my head examined.

Sincerely yours,

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.

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!

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.

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

All hail, Kleenex!

The obligatory first-of-the-year cold has settled into its familiar spot in my sinuses. Kid germs are voracious and fast--and unilaterally inescapable. But I still managed to put in over 13 hours today!

*sniff*

And of course, to steal a quote from George Burns "I can't die now, I'm booked!"

*cough, cough*

My calendar for next week is SOLIDLY booked with meetings. I might see my kids for about a day and a half.

Right now, I have to go to bed. (Of course, to do that I must cut out all of the things that I laminated today so they will no longer be piled on my bed!)

Hours

I have decided, on a lark, to record the actual hours that I spend in my classroom each day. I'm sure lots of people have done this, but hey, I'll add a hit to anyone who might google "teacher hours" in a vain effort to prove us all wrong.

I actually began this journal in July, when I first went to my new school to pick up the keys to my room and fill out some housekeeping-type paperwork--what username did I want for the Intranet, Health Card and the like. On July 31st, therefore, I began the school year with an hour on campus. Couldn't get into my room yet, however, because the previous teacher still needed to move out so the maintenance staff could shampoo the carpets. (Anyone who wants to survive in a middle school MUST be interested in the yearly shampooing of carpets--this is a necessity!)

It must be noted here, I think, that I have just moved back to my hometown after five years in Boise, ID. So, this beginning is twofold: a "new" town and a new job!

So, the countdown begins. Five weeks out: First contact! Get keys. Four weeks out: First full truckload of boxes is unloaded into my classroom. Three weeks out: 16 hours spent in my classroom plus 6 hours of training in something called "Direct Interactive Instruction." Met the Special Education staff from the district, as well as my own, brand-new building Special Education team. (We're all new to the building. The E/BD teacher has a year of experience in the district, I have 5 years' experience in Boise--so basically, on a whole different plane of existence--and the other two Resource teachers are fresh, new, "baby" teachers. Don't let the nickname disillusion you--they are ALL highly qualified young women!) A total of 23.5 hours spent working on my program so far.

Two weeks out: Two full days of "Algebraic Thinking" training, and four hours of caseload review and management with the department co-chair, a highly educated and extremely talented paraeducator who is an eight-year veteran of our school and our primary link to "how things work" at this middle school. Ten more hours spent reviewing IEP's and setting up my classroom for a total of 27 hours, bringing the grand total to 50.5.

One week out: One more full day of "Algebraic Thinking," a full day of "Welcome to Our District, an Orientation," a trip to the District Office for fingerprinting, signing my contract and getting my badge, and a full-day staff "Retreat" at the middle school. At this time, I still don't have a class list or a finalized schedule--my planning hour seems to flip-flop between fifth period and sixth, and I have no idea which of the 25 kids on my caseload will actually show up at my door next week. Throw in one parent meeting, a two-hour cram of how-to-use-the-IEP-program, and three informal parent meetings during 6th grade registration, and the grand total of hours is now 89.25. Mind you, only about 37 of those hours are considered "contract" and will eventually be added to my paycheck.

And so school finally begins!!