Showing posts with label special education. Show all posts

I was a short bus rider from Kindergarten to 12th grade without knowing that I was a short bus rider. Teachers would say "You can only choose 2 friends to ride with you.." on class field trips. And always I would have trouble choosing between one squirming-hand-raised buddy and another pal's pleading face. By the time middle school came around I had learned to tell the driver to please blast the pop-music radio station as he worked the controls to deploy the mechanical lift. There were many mornings when "Pretty Fly for a White Guy" by The Offspring was my entrance music to 6th grade: So don't debate a player straight/You know he really doesn't get it anyway/Gonna play the field and keep it real..the world needs wannabees so (HEY HEY!) Maybe those are some reasons for why I didn't know what that short bus represents in our larger society. Because it never occurred to me during my public education career that what I (on most days) excitedly rode to school in was a long standing symbol of pain, oppression, shame, and exclusion.. for so many.

During elementary school, middle school, and parts of high school I had various classroom aides. For the most part they assisted with recess, P.E. class, navigating crowded hallways, and as I got older helping me lug those two ton textbooks. My classroom aide - regardless of whether they were my absolute favorites or not - came to know me well. They saw a side of me that my parents didn't get to see, that my teachers didn't get to help with, and saw me in a way that my friends did not. In other words there is an attachment between a student and his or her classroom aide, one that at the end of the school year can be difficult to move on from.

I've said it before but I'll say it again: I really lucked out with the quality of classroom aide's I had. Though I had my rough moments where the line between fulfilling needs and providing assistance got blurred - for the most part I didn't have any traumatizing horror experiences. With that said, when it was time for me to move on to another grade I always wondered "will Ms. K still be with me next year?" And you know you've got yourself a real keeper when classmates ask the same question - "will you still be around next year?" or "Will you be helping Sandy again next year too?"

At home my parents tended to worry over me every second of the day, they saw me at my worst and at my best. Among their many other responsibilities as parents, I saw them as the gatekeepers between What You Can Do vs What You Cannot Do. At school, my teachers had the responsibility of showing what exists through their patient explanations of how the world works. My friends were my peers and field-trip buddies on that adventure of understanding. My classroom aides, I saw as the people who stood by to make sure I knew what was possible. They were the folks who let me know that climbing ropes, going camping in the woods, and picking apples at the orchard were all activities that I could do alongside everyone else.
Some classroom aides stood in the background more frequently than others who, like helicopters, flew low and loudly above me during school hours. It depended on my age, the dynamics of the classroom, the grade level I was at, and of course whether or not I had a broken bone -- they were like chameleons that shifted in color and tone depending on the scene in the classroom, and even the student's mood that day.

When all is said and done, this position is by no means an easy job. If you take nothing else from this blog post, leave with this: much respect for all the classroom aide's and other one-on-one special education professionals!!

Every child and his or her aide will likely be a different relationship. Always there will be room for improvement, things that students will wish their aide next year will do the same, and other things that the student will wonder if the aide could just disappear during. As the school year comes to a close and whether your classroom aide will be staying or leaving, the above are some of the things that might be helpful to consider as we move on. Below I have listed a few more tips that I hope will be helpful!

Transitioning from One Aide to the Next:

• It's always helpful to keep a list of awesome things & things that need improvement. For younger kids parents may not realize that when your child is telling you about his/her school day - notice the things they mention about their aide. Jot those down, they come in handy for I.E.P meetings or 504 meetings!
• Sometimes for various budget/career/personal reasons a student's favorite classroom aide won't be transitioning with them to the next grade. This was the case with me when I moved to a whole new school in the 6th grade - going from elementary to middle school. I was incredibly saddened, but what made it easier was incorporating that transition with the natural moving on of everything else. The idea that my aide isn't a part of me but instead a part of the school and the classroom experience I had in elementary school. I was moving to a new school, a new grade, a new experience, new friends, and with that meant a new aide who would work with me. 
• What about terrible experiences with an aide? Probably the student and the student's family is relieved that someone else will become the classroom aide. But that doesn't change the fact that when we move on we should take the time to thank them, to tell them what you enjoyed and what you wish could have been done differently. This isn't just helpful for the student but for the classroom aide as a professional!
• If it's possible or if you think it would be helpful - see if your aide from last year could meet with the classroom aide that will be assigned next year. 
• It may also be helpful for students to meet their aide one or two days before the start of a new school year! Already there needs to be much to adjust to when the bell rings in a new year, it might be an easier transition period if a student already has a familiar adult face in the crowd.   

That morning I had told my parents that I didn't even want to go to school.
"They're doing bicycle safety and it's dumb. I can't ride a bike. What's the point?" 
Well, the truth was I could ride a bike just not one that looked like all of my friends' bikes. I'm certain that no ten or eleven year-old still rode their tricycle around the neighborhood, never mind show up with it at school. I was embarrassed even before I got there and wanted nothing to do with the day. My parents recognized what a sticky-and-uncomfortable moment it was for me, I was their daughter who still pleaded to return to class after a fracture had happened!
Their response? "You're going to school. Maybe you can just sit in the library during bicycle safety time." So off I went, the only kid who didn't arrive to school with a helmet and shiny bicycle in hand.

You should know that this was a certain rite-of-passage for fifth graders at the elementary school. Being the oldest we trooped the halls like we owned the place, and scoffed at the "baby playground" that the kindergarten and first graders played on. By the time you became a third grader you began to look forward to that time when you'd finally be able to ride your bike to school; I remember when my older brother went through it and it never crossed my mind to think that I'd get to that day and not be able to go through the ritual as well. As the day went on I grew more sullen and quiet, resentful that I wouldn't be able to participate in this cool older kid thing - that I would probably be relegated to the library, or sit on the orange swing that hung especially for me while my aide pushed.

The bicycle safety lesson was led by the city police department. Officer C showed up and the second he did the class fell into an excited hush; we were still at that age where a shiny badge and uniform had a sort of 'in-awe' effect. He told the class the rules of the lesson, "follow my directions, stay behind your teacher, always have your helmet on.." I sat at my desk looking around at all my friends who sat on the edge of their seat, they just couldn't wait to get outside into that perfect late spring day.

I looked at my aide from across the classroom, and it was then that Officer C walked towards us.
"Sandy, would you like to ride in the cruiser with me? You can sit shotgun!" Eyes wide, I think at that moment my grin was easily the biggest one in the entire class. Officer C didn't need to ask twice, he knew by the look on my face that of course I wanted to ride in the cruiser!
As we waited for my classroom teacher to get everyone else onto their bikes, to make sure that helmets were securely and appropriately buckled into place - I went to the front of the school where his police car was parked. My aide helped me inside the front seat of the car and I won't forget the utter importance I felt. I specifically remember that I didn't turn around, I didn't want to see where the 'bad guys' sit when they're caught; instead I goggled at what looked like hundreds of switches, dials, and buttons that were all, in my mind, magically tied to the goings-on of every corner in the city.
"Okay so your friends are all behind us. You ready to lead? You're going to be giving out the lessons over the microphone. Press this button while you hold the walkie-talkie and whatever you say will come out from the speaker that's on the roof of the car." 

This was a cool moment in various ways. First off it was the first and last time I'd ever be sitting in the front of the police car ... ;-) Secondly the moment was empowering because I was shown possibility. The truth was I didn't even think I'd be able to participate! But it was because of the adults running the show who saw what was possible - they gave me a chance and an opportunity to be engaged in everything else the rest of my class was doing. 
I wish every student - disabled or not - could have the same teachers and adults I was surrounded by growing up. What may have been more than ten years ago, or just some cool joy-ride in a police car actually does have a huge impact on the way that kid grows up to become an all-possibilities embracing adult. 

I won't ever forget how you're supposed to signal a left or right hand turn on your bike. I won't forget how despite not being in a car, you still need to allow pedestrians right of way. Or the fact that you must ride single file unless you are passing someone else. "And you have to wear a helmet all the time when you're riding a bike - at least until you're 16." I could hear my voice echo from on top of the police car,
"Hey is that Sandy?! Hi Sandy!" I could hear my friends recognizing my voice.
"Hi everyone!" I laughed and thought now I'm a real fifth-grader, just like them. 

"Sandy do you want to tell your teachers some things that would help you hear better?" I think I was in the sixth or seventh grade. My speech therapist that I'd been working with since the first grade had prepped me for this part of the conversation. It was early in the school year and we were gathered around a table going over my IEP plan.


In the beginning my speech therapist and I worked on pronouncing my own name. The "S" at the beginning of "Sandy" was pretty much silent to me until I was about 8 or so. "Hi, my name is Thandy" is how I would introduce myself to others as a kid. We also worked on endings of words that had a "t", "-ed", "-s" or the one I hated most: "-its." She helped me learn how to carry my sentences all the way through when I spoke aloud, reminding me to not drop off at the end, and we worked on my lisp (a word I had trouble pronouncing until well into high school); she taught me about adverbs, and compound words; we practiced lip reading, and ASL. I didn't consider her to be just my speech therapist, she taught me language and how it can be used, how it benefits all of us, and all of its little tricks and secrets. But the most important thing I learned from Mrs. B was how to advocate for myself.

I know that my hearing-loss isn't something that I touch upon much in this blog, but its something that O.I. affects and also, of course, affects my day-to-day life. In school I was usually not only the only one in a wheelchair, but also the only kid with a hearing-impairment (at least that I knew of). I wore hearing-aids and an FM system in school beginning with first grade till the 12th grade, and even today I will OCCASIONALLY wear one hearing-aid. (It depends on my mood, do I want to listen to the ENTIRE world today?) Having a hearing-impairment can negatively influence a student's learning experience in very obvious ways, but just as with any other disability learning to work WITH the impairment is the key to success. I think that my weekly sessions with my speech therapist, and our focus on language.. actually had a lot to do with my fluency and comfort with the English language in general. It's one of those old lessons in practice makes perfect, but in this case it helped that the student loves the subject of English and writing to begin with.
Mrs. B was the rare teacher who was able to seamlessly show her student how learning language will also help you overcome challenges. When we were practicing lip reading she taught me about context clues, and how even though certain words LOOK the same on the lips, the context of phrases will help you decipher what is being said. This helped a lot when I took my college entrance exams and had to fill in missing vocabulary from sentences -- context clues! It was a skill I had been learning since the 3rd grade! Or as we were going over phrases she would tell me about ways to make it easier for me,
"How did you get that phrase so quickly?!" She proclaimed in mock disbelief.
"Because you were facing me, and I was looking at you." This quickly became not just the right answer for her little games, but also the key to my success in the regular classroom as well.

I learned how to address teachers who would talk while writing on the board, their backs facing the classroom. And although I was able to pick-up 80% of what was being said through the FM system, I never felt confident unless I am able to lipread as well. This is true even to this day. I get frustrated when people scream at me from afar, or when friends will whisper things in a movie theater. Even if I DO hear what is being said, I get frustrated because my natural instinct is to say "I can't see you, and if I can't see you then I can't hear you."
Having an FM system also means that I pick-up on ALL the background noise in a classroom. Every squeak of a chair against the floor, every soft rumble of the heater in the background, every hum of the lights in the ceiling, every single side chatter of conversation between students.. the list is endless! Being able to address my peers in a confident and cool manner about lowering their voices, or stop tapping your pencil! Was also an infinitely important tool that Mrs. B armed with.

I'm a firm believer that the more a student is able to advocate for his or her needs in the classroom, the better learner she or he will become. And in many instances this requires a certain level of comfort with the disability or learning difference that the student may have! So in the end, this is all the more reason that our educators and parents learn to form learning communities that foster inclusiveness and acceptance. The easier it is for students to speak-up for themselves, the stronger they becomes as individuals and the better prepared they are for the world OUT THERE!

Can't believe we're quickly approaching the end of October. Wowzers! I don't mind it though, soon there is an excuse to dress-up and eat candy  =)

• Monday: Many of you have probably gone through something similar - The Fracture Timeline.

• Tuesday: As a wheelchair user there are just a few things about NON-wheelchair users that annoy me.

• Wednesday: Though I was completely tired from classes, I'm glad I took the time to listen! 

• Thursday: Having had an aide for most of my educational experience, I share my IDEAL aide here.

• Fracture Free Friday: What would you tell new parents of babies with O.I.? 

If you've been following the blog for some time you may remember that I have had various "helper persons" from pre-school till 9th grade. At the start of 9th grade I got all teenager-y and stubbornly wrote off my aide and won the case for my independence; from that point on I was deemed capable / responsible enough for my own well-being and have not had an aide in the classroom since.

Fifth Grade, I think?

When I think of the aides I had in elementary school one thing immediately comes to mind: they were all involved in the education of the entire classroom. Though much of their time was spent one-on-one with me, I remember my aide in third grade taught math lessons and my aide in the fifth grade would often read aloud to the entire class. I didn't consciously realize it then but I appreciated and even liked this aspect of their job quite a bit. In many ways, I believe having an aide who was accessible to and involved in every student's education made my integration into the mainstream classroom a lot easier. In elementary school I was rarely without friends and more importantly was never ashamed of needing the extra help; it also helped my friends and other classmates better understand what I was all about in a more seamless way.
In middle school I had several aides throughout the three years. I'm not totally sure what the school was thinking but when I was in the 8th grade my aide was a man. Already that fact alone made it difficult for me, as an awkward 13 year old girl, to connect with him. Not only was he not involved in the learning that went on for each student, but he was also a one-on-one aide for a student in my year who had a learning disability. From what I remember though, during the IEP meeting at the end of fifth grade (as my parents and teachers met before my transition to middle school), it was decided that my aide would help me with things like going from class to class, getting heavy binders and books out of my back pack, fire drills, and in the case that I had a fracture would help me take notes. Since I was now an 'older kid' the focus of my aide was a lot less on the social aspects of my school day and more on the academic learning aspects - no doubt my parents had a lot to do with this decision.
But in all honesty I vividly remember how much I was annoyed by my aide in the 8th grade. I found him to be utterly useless, boring, and more or less wanted nothing to do with him. In fact I remember how my friends and I would race into the elevator before he got there, quickly slam the door close button and giggle hysterically as we watched him try to chase after us, struggling to get through the messy crowd of pre-teen back packs. Yep I was that dreaded pre-teen girl every adult loathes, I'm quite sure that I was that devious 8th grade girl. Another time, during shop class, my friend and I decided to mess around with some horribly boring sounding book my aide was reading (he had left it unattended on top of a desk). Not only did we think it a good idea to turn the book to a random page so he would lose his place, but we also decided to draw a happy face on one of the pages with super glue. I told you, devious. 


Throughout my experience with having an aide I was fortunate that most of my aides were not like the one I had in 8th grade. Their personalities ranged from being very quiet to the ones who would joke around with me, or to the ones who just shrugged in exasperation every time I zoomed down the halls with a friend standing on the back of my wheelchair. None of my aides were ever flat-out mean or unaccommodating. Many of them quickly realized that I was going to do as much as I could, regardless of whether or not it was a potentially terrible and injury-prone idea. For instance, climbing ropes in gym class. Or trying the monkey bars during recess. I think one year we tied the rope to my wheelchair during tug-of-war and I was finally allowed to participate in the school-wide competition. My aides let me jump and skip in my walker even though I was really only supposed to be walking. They would listen to my complaints about having to wear my long leg braces all day, and every now and then I was allowed to take them off. My aides respected the times I wanted to try something, and although they probably weren't always sure whether or not I could handle it - they encouraged my curiosity and development by letting me do it. Of course this meant that they were always right there with me standing by, and most times it meant that they were physically holding on to me for dear life!

So with all of that said I have compiled a list of characteristics that I would include in my ideal classroom aide:

• Have a sense of humor that's like mine! 
• Be involved in what's going on in the classroom
• Have a fun personality but also know when an authority figure is needed. Secretly I do expect my classroom aide to keep me safe when one of my seemingly "good ideas" is not so good.
• Back-off when friends are around
• Allow friends to help me as appropriate. The truth is that as young kids grow-up they will increasingly realize that they will be the ones who need to ask for help, and many times that person may be their peer or colleague. Starting this early-on is only planning for the long-term!
• When I am hesitating about doing something that involves physical activity, help talk me through the decision process
• Trust me enough to have some time alone; my aide shouldn't be a literal shadow!
• Respect my curiosity
• Respect and help me during uncomfortable situations. No kid willingly wants to admit in front of his or her friends that they need help going to the bathroom or getting changed for gym class
• After a certain age, let me tell you when I need help
• Help me explain my disability to my friends in an appropriate manner and when the time is right
• Realize that if I want to do something that my aide usually does, this is not a sign of my trying to offend you but instead I am just trying to learn. Help me realize what it is I need help with, and what I can do with assistance
• Never assume that I just can't do it. Allow me to take the first steps in trying and then assist me as needed

My friends enjoy teasing me for these and I have come to accept that I cannot go anywhere without at least one awkward moment.


1. Don't text and drive. Even if it's your power wheelchair. One time I was busy texting and soon found my head met the rear-end that belonged to a short old lady.

2. That time I only had 3 wheels on my chair. One of my rear wheels had fallen off - allegedly because one of my closest friends had been sitting on the back of it too much and it took the wheelchair company WAY too long to get a replacement part. The day that wheel fell off I had a mid-term in one of my classes and when my professor saw me she thought I was insane for rolling the 7 blocks to make it anyway. And trust me, if THAT professor was calling me insane.. then I guess sometimes my judgment can be really questionable.

3. Classy goes messy. It was a school tradition that the President served students breakfast. There were lots of administrators, deans, professors and tables stocked with food that had been nicely decorated. A corner of the tablecloth to one of the buffet tables got caught in my tire and BAM... onto the floor go an entire plate of cannoli's, pancakes, fruit.. I looked around and all I could say was "I guess the 5 second rule doesn't count?"

4. Painfully speechless. The editors of the high school newspaper were called in for a meeting that morning and there were bagels for us. It was an important meeting because we were having personnel issues and as I went to bite into my bagel - for whatever reason - the back of my jaw snaps. I sat for the duration of that incredibly tense meeting with my mouth shut, an un-chewed bite of bagel in my mouth, and just nodded and said "mmhmm" the whole time. Later on after school I went to the ortho and found out my jaw was broken - no fun at all!

5. The Claustrophobic Aide. In 9th grade my aide was claustrophobic. The reason why the school had hired her to begin with? So that she would go in the elevators with me as a preventative measure in case I got stuck or the elevator broke. Did I mention? She was claustrophobic... which means she never went in the elevators with me. Instead she would meet me at the next floor in front of the elevator doors and listen to make sure it was still running. Now that I think about it.. this incident deserves its own blog entry. It's an epic tale of youthful rebellion: The Time Sandy Staged a Coup & Got Rid of the Aide ;-)

I don't know about you but this week just seemed to drag on forever for me! In between work and getting ready for the upcoming fall I managed to squeeze in a Red Sox game and saw the movie Friends with Benefits; then my younger bro turned 18 and I attended an event that honored the 21st Anniversary of the ADA.

• Monday's post: Though difficult for me to put into words I know that the 'guilt' some parents may experience about having/raising a disabled child is a common feeling. This is an on-going issue so I'm sure I will return to this topic in the future

• Tuesday: In this entry I wrote about my most traumatic fracture to date. After a fall from my manual wheelchair: two fractured femurs, a pool of blood, and an ambulance ride later I learned what to do in the event of a '911 fracture' incident. 

• Wednesday: In elementary school I had a lot of specialists come work with me. My memories of special education were not as "fun" as the adults tried to make it out to be though....

• Thursday: Despite two-decades of sitting in my wheelchair it doesn't seem like my body is getting any more 'used to it.' Here are some tips on sitting for hours on end! 

• Fracture Free Friday: What's the point of having a rod surgery if you can't walk 'normally' afterwards? I talk about some of the pros & cons of rod operations in today's Fracture Free Friday post over at Unbreakable Journey!