Several months have gone by since the first days of school and the havoc that was described. There is much good news to share.
Max has made some nice gains. We have met multiple times with his teachers, most recently to open his IEP to make it align more closely to his needs. He will presently be "pushed in" the general Kindergarten for calendar time, science, journals, and centers. They were already having him go in for calendar/Heggerty time even though it was not on his IEP. The teachers suggested that he participate in gen. ed. science and journal time in addition to what he was already doing.
They have also gotten the ball rolling for the observations necessary to determine the level of support he needs in a gen. ed. classroom (aka, a teacher's aide). His behavior is not an issue. The issue is that someone needs to keep him on-task. He will sit there, but will not necessarily do anything or say anything. Very unlike the Max we see at home.
So, there we have it. For now.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Halloween, the Tooth Fairy, and other whimsy
Yesterday's news... Max lost his first tooth!
The Tooth Fairy brought him a bag full of pennies. He took them to Menards to help pay for a US flag. Backstory: Our neighbors have various flags that they hang for various sports teams and whatnot. He wanted a flag for our porch.
And in other news, the car wash costume is complete! Check it out at my craft blog. Hope he wears it!
The Tooth Fairy brought him a bag full of pennies. He took them to Menards to help pay for a US flag. Backstory: Our neighbors have various flags that they hang for various sports teams and whatnot. He wanted a flag for our porch.
And in other news, the car wash costume is complete! Check it out at my craft blog. Hope he wears it!
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Doing OK until...
Life does move on. Every now and then, the wind gets knocked out of my day-to-day.
I was simply adding things to my calendar. Sending Outlook "invitations" for various dates. In my list of invitations for Ignatius' Confirmation, it hits me that Marita would have been on that list. Wham!
I think Scott thinks I am nuts. One minute OK, the next minute, melting down. Yeesh!
I know she'll "be there," but it's so difficult thinking of this being the first sacrament for my kids where she will be absent. It's particularly hard because she so loved Ignatius.
I was simply adding things to my calendar. Sending Outlook "invitations" for various dates. In my list of invitations for Ignatius' Confirmation, it hits me that Marita would have been on that list. Wham!
I think Scott thinks I am nuts. One minute OK, the next minute, melting down. Yeesh!
I know she'll "be there," but it's so difficult thinking of this being the first sacrament for my kids where she will be absent. It's particularly hard because she so loved Ignatius.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Different, not less
The performance that spoke to me most, mainly through tears, was that of Julia Ormond, who plays Temple's mother, Eustacia. Alas, Temple was diagnosed with autism at a time when the most popular recommendation for children was institutionalization. It was also the theory of the time that children who had autism had mothers who, at a crucial time of their development, in some way denied their children of the affection they needed. Her fight as represented in the movie epitomizes the fight of all parents of children on the spectrum, regardless of the extreme of the diagnosis. Still, in 2010, parents must advocate for their school districts to "do right" by their children. More of the law is on the side of the parent than was true in the 1950s through the 1970s. If more parents only knew their true power in an IEP meeting, no one would miss one. My favorite line was when she emphasized that Temple was "different, not less." That small line is the core of the battle for parents... to convince others to act on this belief. At Max's IEP meeting last spring, my statement was that I wanted his teachers to, "believe he can rather than assume he can't." That is a goal that continues to challenge us as he gets his education in a public school.
What was also inspiring to me was the role that David Strathairn portrayed as Temple's high school science teacher. It takes a teacher or two to believe in the ability and potential of those who learn differently from the "norm." Many times, these children have a lot to bring to the academic world, but alas a large portion of teachers see themselves as teachers to the "neurotypical," forgetting that children learn differently. I have been guilty of this myself as a teacher, but the critical difference is I have changed my outlook and my practice. The question I ask myself each day is, "For whom are you here to teach?" It is also critically important for us to create accepting cultures in our classrooms. When I saw the kids tormenting and making fun of Temple, openly laughing at her as she stood in front of her French class, I thought of the role of a teacher to create a community of support and not ridicule for students who have differences. We can make our classrooms as tolerant or intolerant as we so choose. May my children have at least one or two Professor Carlock's in their lives. He observed Temple. He listened to her. He tried to convince colleagues of her brilliance and how she learned... and that she COULD learn. He planned his lessons with her visual strengths in mind.
It was a tough movie to watch when you are in the midst of raising children on the spectrum. Temple's experiences with not being able to understand people's faces and emotions, much less express her own emotions appropriately, reminded me of our constant reinforcement of societal "norms" with Ignatius. Her mother's constant reminders of how you introduce yourself to others hit very close to home. Also, when her mother took her to boarding school and saw her daughter in stark contrast to the other, "neurotypical," students there, and began a spiral of panic that she was making a mistake with Temple, that was spot on.It was most definitely inspiring, as is the entire life of Dr. Temple Grandin. I thank her and her family for their perseverance which laid the groundwork for my own children being able to reach their potentials.
Monday, August 30, 2010
One week later
It's hard to believe a week has gone by since the boys kicked into high gear with school. Ignatius is having what seems like his best school year yet. Eighth grade suits him very nicely. He is taking Eighth Grade Algebra at Bloomington CCHS, and he is really on top of his studies so far. He will receive Confirmation in November. Today he finally learned to ride a bike. His friends helped him out at a weekend sleepover.
Max began his formal schooling this week, as you might recall from my previous post. Scott is making intermittent visits to his school to see him in action and get a grasp of his day. He has met with the principal as well as the teacher, and we have asked for a meeting to re-evaluate his IEP. We met with his PLAY consultant this week, and she offered data that helped us with the decision to push for more time in the gen ed classroom. The principal told Scott they would do whatever we wanted. It's their first year with the program, so I think he's fairly flexible with seeing how things run.
I am typing this at midnight, as I lie here with a racing mind that needs to just sleep! I have worked on school stuff (my own) pretty much all weekend. Still lots to do before my week is fully ready, but I have somewhat of a grasp on things. Or so I think! Here's to the possibilities a new week brings.
Max began his formal schooling this week, as you might recall from my previous post. Scott is making intermittent visits to his school to see him in action and get a grasp of his day. He has met with the principal as well as the teacher, and we have asked for a meeting to re-evaluate his IEP. We met with his PLAY consultant this week, and she offered data that helped us with the decision to push for more time in the gen ed classroom. The principal told Scott they would do whatever we wanted. It's their first year with the program, so I think he's fairly flexible with seeing how things run.
I am typing this at midnight, as I lie here with a racing mind that needs to just sleep! I have worked on school stuff (my own) pretty much all weekend. Still lots to do before my week is fully ready, but I have somewhat of a grasp on things. Or so I think! Here's to the possibilities a new week brings.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Max Begins a New School - A Diary of Sorts
Thursday, August 19: I attend an Open House. I speak briefly to the general education Kindergarten teacher assigned to my son. She explains that another teacher, his special education teacher, is a person with whom I should speak. I do so, relaying that I am quite nervous about this experience. She answers a good deal of my questions, and I go to the general education room, believing that it is there where I will receive both pertinent and important information about my son's experience with what I thought would be Kindergarten.
Friday, Saturday, Sunday: I check and recheck, much in Walter Paul OCD fashion, the school website. Students and parents in Kindergarten are to attend the first day of school for an hour. Last names A-M come from 8:30 - 9:30. Last names N-Z come from 10:00-11:00. Sunday night: Generic voicemail from principal says Kindergarteners should come at 8:30, causing a small heart attack when I listen to it Monday morning.
Monday, August 23: Max has a restless sleep, and wakes up with the rash he had for a while blazing across his trunk. Doctor is called. I call school (a little frantic) in response to the voicemail from last night and am reassured that he is to come at 10:00.
I take Max to get his favorite breakfast and take some photos. He's a happy little dude. We get to school. We have our first day of school cards ready to give to the teachers. We see the general education teacher. The special education room's door is closed and the room appears empty, but we are early, so no worries. The general education teacher, along with the other Kindergarten teachers, are welcoming their classes and parents with various activities. Max and I sit in the common area watching. A kind teacher, not any of Max's, gives us some books to read while we wait.
At around 9:55, I am brazen enough to open the door to the special education classroom. No one is in there, but there are traces that a class has been here. At 10:00 I go to the office. At this point, I am getting visibly upset, as all of the other parents and kids have started their happy little scavenger hunts throughout the school. The office assures me that the teacher will be there. I assist Max in upacking his box of supplies in a manner that it seems like others in the room have done. My mind wonders why, exactly he, too could not have been doing a scavenger hunt with me.
At 10:10, I go back to the office, this time, unable to hold back tears. The principal takes me to find my son's teacher and class on the playground for recess. They had expected us at 8:30, and "wondered where we were," but the office told them we would be there at 10. (Yes, when we were told to be there. You are following.) I later wonder why one of the aides did not stay back in the room and wait for Max, since they were told he would be there at 10. We re-enter the room, where we are given a card and told he needs to put his name on it and decorate it for a magnet. I speak briefly with the teacher and a bit more with the aides. I await direction. None is provided. It appears that students are playing with different games and blocks, so Max and I follow suit. I am told that he is cute and is "so dressed up" for school.
At 11:00, students line up at the door as if they have been doing this for quite some time. We leave for Max's doctor appointment.
And this was the experience of my son's first day of Kindergarten. I left out the crying I did almost all day, feeling majorly robbed of what should have been a welcoming, organized, fun morning. I did not expect for it to be perfect. I know better. But I did expect for it to be MUCH different.
You see, Unit 5 keeps talking about "inclusion." I am wondering what their operating definition is of that term. Mine is that the students are with a general education teacher until and unless they have severe needs that make that impossible. Their version seems to be that his general education experience will be rendered to PE, music, art, and lunch, with some centers with the other students as the teachers see fit.
Mind you, I am wounded, but not broken. Once I can get through my feelings of sheer disappointment, we will have clarity about how this year will go in the LEAST restrictive environment for my son.
What I did not mention was the stress of the last week with getting my own room together and getting ready for my own students as well as getting my own children ready for their new experiences. But that's a whole other story.
On an up note, Max was diagnosed with hives and is taking an antihistamine, which seems to be giving him some relief. A friend shared that her son had pityriasis rosea, and, when she saw Max's photo, she thought it looked familiar to what her son had. When she described it, the symptoms sounded REALLY familiar. Either way, he looks a little less like a leper! Yeah! And, when all is said and done, he did not know that his experience with his first day of Kindergarten should have been any different than what it was. I sure did, though.
Tomorrow is his first full day without me. There was a darling little boy named Caden in his room. Caden likes foraging for acorns at recess. He's a pretty cool little dude, and quite chatty. He enjoyed my rendition of If You Take a Mouse to School. I think he and Max will be great friends. :) And now, I must wrap my brain around what, exactly, tomorrow will look like in my own classroom.
On a very high note, much earlier than expected, my student teacher got to be in charge of the room today. She did a great job planning, and I can't wait to hear more about how everything flowed. I am SO grateful to have her!!
Friday, Saturday, Sunday: I check and recheck, much in Walter Paul OCD fashion, the school website. Students and parents in Kindergarten are to attend the first day of school for an hour. Last names A-M come from 8:30 - 9:30. Last names N-Z come from 10:00-11:00. Sunday night: Generic voicemail from principal says Kindergarteners should come at 8:30, causing a small heart attack when I listen to it Monday morning.
Monday, August 23: Max has a restless sleep, and wakes up with the rash he had for a while blazing across his trunk. Doctor is called. I call school (a little frantic) in response to the voicemail from last night and am reassured that he is to come at 10:00.
I take Max to get his favorite breakfast and take some photos. He's a happy little dude. We get to school. We have our first day of school cards ready to give to the teachers. We see the general education teacher. The special education room's door is closed and the room appears empty, but we are early, so no worries. The general education teacher, along with the other Kindergarten teachers, are welcoming their classes and parents with various activities. Max and I sit in the common area watching. A kind teacher, not any of Max's, gives us some books to read while we wait.
At around 9:55, I am brazen enough to open the door to the special education classroom. No one is in there, but there are traces that a class has been here. At 10:00 I go to the office. At this point, I am getting visibly upset, as all of the other parents and kids have started their happy little scavenger hunts throughout the school. The office assures me that the teacher will be there. I assist Max in upacking his box of supplies in a manner that it seems like others in the room have done. My mind wonders why, exactly he, too could not have been doing a scavenger hunt with me.
At 10:10, I go back to the office, this time, unable to hold back tears. The principal takes me to find my son's teacher and class on the playground for recess. They had expected us at 8:30, and "wondered where we were," but the office told them we would be there at 10. (Yes, when we were told to be there. You are following.) I later wonder why one of the aides did not stay back in the room and wait for Max, since they were told he would be there at 10. We re-enter the room, where we are given a card and told he needs to put his name on it and decorate it for a magnet. I speak briefly with the teacher and a bit more with the aides. I await direction. None is provided. It appears that students are playing with different games and blocks, so Max and I follow suit. I am told that he is cute and is "so dressed up" for school.
At 11:00, students line up at the door as if they have been doing this for quite some time. We leave for Max's doctor appointment.
And this was the experience of my son's first day of Kindergarten. I left out the crying I did almost all day, feeling majorly robbed of what should have been a welcoming, organized, fun morning. I did not expect for it to be perfect. I know better. But I did expect for it to be MUCH different.
You see, Unit 5 keeps talking about "inclusion." I am wondering what their operating definition is of that term. Mine is that the students are with a general education teacher until and unless they have severe needs that make that impossible. Their version seems to be that his general education experience will be rendered to PE, music, art, and lunch, with some centers with the other students as the teachers see fit.
Mind you, I am wounded, but not broken. Once I can get through my feelings of sheer disappointment, we will have clarity about how this year will go in the LEAST restrictive environment for my son.
What I did not mention was the stress of the last week with getting my own room together and getting ready for my own students as well as getting my own children ready for their new experiences. But that's a whole other story.
On an up note, Max was diagnosed with hives and is taking an antihistamine, which seems to be giving him some relief. A friend shared that her son had pityriasis rosea, and, when she saw Max's photo, she thought it looked familiar to what her son had. When she described it, the symptoms sounded REALLY familiar. Either way, he looks a little less like a leper! Yeah! And, when all is said and done, he did not know that his experience with his first day of Kindergarten should have been any different than what it was. I sure did, though.
Tomorrow is his first full day without me. There was a darling little boy named Caden in his room. Caden likes foraging for acorns at recess. He's a pretty cool little dude, and quite chatty. He enjoyed my rendition of If You Take a Mouse to School. I think he and Max will be great friends. :) And now, I must wrap my brain around what, exactly, tomorrow will look like in my own classroom.
On a very high note, much earlier than expected, my student teacher got to be in charge of the room today. She did a great job planning, and I can't wait to hear more about how everything flowed. I am SO grateful to have her!!
Friday, August 13, 2010
Same difference
When Max was just six weeks old, I remember looking at him the night before going back to work and just crying. It was too soon. I had no control over the fact that he had to go somewhere before he was truly ready. Now, five years later, I am looking at my five year old, not so sure he's ready for what's about to start. Again, this is what we can do right now. I don't want to hold him back, I just hope I am not sending him in to "school" before he's really ready. I guess I'll find out soon enough!
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