Showing posts with label special education techniques. Show all posts

Moving On From a Classroom Aide

By | Published Wednesday, May 23, 2012

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.   


Posted in , , , , | Leave a comment

When Everyone is Waiting for You to Fail

By | Published Monday, February 6, 2012

The high school cafeteria swarmed with new and unfamiliar faces. Teachers milled about but only for the sake of being there because everyone knows that this is the place where every teenager is for him or herself. As a 9th grader I was a new student, but I was totally new - my family had just moved into town during the summer between 8th and 9th grade, I knew no one and more importantly no one really knew me.


On the first day of school my aide had already embarrassed me. While everyone was getting their lunch she had launched into her "this is where there's pizza and here's the salad bar.." I saw kids glance at me from the corner of their eyes what is wrong with that girl? She doesn't even recognize basic food? As if the wheelchair wasn't an already obvious sign, my aide's explanation of what was obvious further highlighted any invisible impairments I didn't actually have. So on this second day of school I told myself that yesterday's fiasco would be avoided at all and any costs. Today I was going to get my own lunch, to heck with her job description, my coolness factor was at stake! 
She strutted in front of me but I swerved from behind her, grabbed the lunch tray and scooted into the line for pizza. It was the first time that I had held the lunch tray on my own, and in my rush to make a statement with my coolness factor and independence, I hadn't factored in how exactly I was going to hold a lunch tray. 
For other kids trays dangled from their hands, others spun lunch trays on top of fingers, a group of kids tried balancing trays on their heads - there was no technique that they already had to figure out. They just did it. My dominant hand (lefty!) was already preoccupied with the wheelchair's joystick, my right hand was holding a binder that I hadn't put in my backpack from the class before. As someone who has shorter stature, my lap has only enough real-estate for a stuffed animal and a Harry Potter book; needless to say I fumbled a bit. 
So maybe this wasn't such a great idea I began thinking to myself. Maybe the school was right, maybe I do need someone to get my lunch for me. But I looked around and saw the faces and other kids who I saw no difference between myself and them; I wanted no difference to exist, and at the time if it came down to slightly struggling with holding a lunch tray then so be it! 
It was my turn at the pizza bar, (the seat of my chair didn't elevate at the time)... I looked up at the mountainous plexi-glass-like window that separated me from the lunch lady slapping on slices of pizza on passing trays. For a split second her line of sight continued looking glazed over and seemed frozen at the same height of sight forever. Quick thinking told me I had to get her attention. I clattered my lunch tray down onto the metal serving stand, the noise got her to look down and I could tell that she had thought some bratty kid has caused a mess again. I could tell from her face that she wasn't expecting me there, waiting patiently for a slice of pizza on my empty tray. She reached over the glass window and plopped a slice of pizza down onto my tray; at this point I had slid my binder behind me, I then gripped the edge of the lunch tray with my right hand and balanced the other end on my left forearm. When I exited the line my aide stood there looking at me, hands on her hips, astonished. 

I got my milk, and had to adjust the weight of the tray in my hands - making sure to put the milk carton on one end and the pizza on the other to have the weight evenly spread. Despite my caution, the whole time I was paranoid that the lunch tray would somehow slip from my newly untrained grip; in my mind I saw pizza landing cheese side up on to the ground, lunch tray clattering, and milk splashing all over the place. In the faces of the kids around me, and the reaction of my aide told me that everyone else could see this image too; everyone seemed to be waiting for me to fail, waiting for me to admit defeat and that I needed an adult's help for forever and ever. 
And up until that point it was true, I had needed an adult to help me with many things that other kids my age did by themselves at school. But it occurred to me that if you expect change, and no one is willing to take a risk on you, then you've got to take matters into your own hands - no one is going to just hand you some change of expectations that match everything you've ever dreamed of on a silver platter (never mind a high school lunch tray!)

My coolness factor, my bold statement of independence, and determination to get my own slice of pizza and milk is exactly that - they are all mine now because no one had any hand in doing it for me. At the time it may have just been high school lunch and pizza that I was after, but it was a step towards what I wanted, even if I hadn't fully realized what 'it' was myself yet. 
That's all it takes, just one slice of pizza, one small action towards what you want. We can't expect anyone to take a risk on us if we won't take a risk on ourselves. 

Posted in , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Self-Advocacy in the Classroom

By | Published Thursday, November 3, 2011

"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!


Posted in , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Wrap-Up

By | Published Friday, October 21, 2011

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  =)


Posted in , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Special Ed. & all the things I never learned

By | Published Wednesday, July 27, 2011


As much as I loved the school library in elementary school I dreaded one part of it, the little room that was off to the side of the library, the so-called “Learning Center.” I never understood what it was for because in my mind the school was already a learning center, one that was always far more fun and interesting than this other specially labeled “Learning Center.”

In elementary school I had physical therapy, speech therapy, and occupational therapy – and for reasons that I still don’t understand I was also taken out of the classroom for ‘testing.’ I would have to do mundane things like read sentences aloud while they recorded me, or do subtraction problems, and the thing that I hated most: tell time in different ways “how else can you say 6:45?” “umm…it’s almost time to watch The Simpsons?” “Sandy, do you remember last week when we split the clock into four equal parts?” In my head I was usually thinking do I care? I want to go back to the classroom and be with my friends.

“How did I show you how to hold the pencil last week? Where is your tripod grip?” Why does it matter how I’m holding the pencil? Don’t you think the story I am writing about the boy floating off with the balloons his parents got him at the circus is awesome?! Needless to say, I never understood what the point of my being in “The Learning Center” was. I’m not sure if it was the one-on-one that bored me, or the fact that there were never any of my other friends around or maybe it was that entire environment: the quiet mumbling of the radio that was always on, the whir of the fan, and the always soft borderline patronizing voices they spoke to me in:
“Sandy, can you put the pegs in this board? I want you to fill this entire board with pegs.” Is the next activity going to be let’s take a nap? Because that seems like a good segue way into naptime. Seriously! I did not plan on growing up to work on a factory line of board-filling. Wasn’t it clear that I wanted to grow up to be an author? Did they know how well I could play Mario on my brother’s Nintendo when he wasn’t around? I think if I was evaluated under THOSE circumstances I would have long ago not needed to be removed from my classroom for 30min every week to… put washers on the stand. It only took them until I was in the 5th grade, when I got my first power wheelchair, to realize that Sandy definitely did not need help with hand-eye motor coordination skills.

Why was I taken out of the class to “play some games”? These games were never fun. There was never a point value or score board involved. And it seemed like I was the only one doing the “playing” (work) while the adult just sat there and stared, or told me directions. There were several times when I would purposely do something random just to see the teacher’s reaction. I remember once there was a ring stand and I was told to put washers onto the ring stand in equal amounts. So instead of counting them out and placing them one by one (which I was instructed to do), I stacked all the washers and then dropped 10 of them at a time on each. It was my attempt to complete the “game” as fast as possible so I could go back to the classroom; when I was finished I looked at the teacher with a point-blank stare: yeah, that’s right. Now what are you going to tell me to do? I don’t remember needing to play that “game” ever again.

Perhaps it was because I had spent so much time in casts or was immobilized as a young child that they believed I missed out on a lot of physical development milestones. I crawled late, I stood about 4 years too late, and I walked about 5-6 years later than the ‘normal’ child as well. I didn’t learn to pull myself up to a stand until I had already read all the books in our 2nd grade classroom library. I spent a lot of time on my back and this was believed to have caused numerous ear infections and a flatter head, but did this mean I would need to spend 30 min a week as an 8 year old putting rings on a stand?! I don’t know, clearly I’m not a special education specialist, but what I do know is that I always felt so DUMB and belittled during these sessions. I didn’t know until I was in “The Learning Center” each week that it WAS possible to feel smaller and shorter than I already was. 

Special Education:
  • I'm sure many things have changed since I was in elementary school, kids probably use more cool gadgets than the stone-age days of "put washers on stands." Whatever it is just make sure it's FUN. No not "fun" in the learning kind of way I mean, FUN
  • You might think that kids who are disabled can't tell when adults are frustrated by their challenges. We can! I always could and I have resented teachers and aides for this in the past. However it is kids react to the way you respond to them is exactly that, a REACTION. It's not something that we can necessarily help or are doing on purpose!
  • At a certain age I think that kids should know why they are doing certain tasks that their friends do not have to. I think that letting kids into their own educational direction is important and allows them to feel in control and a little less belittled
  • Invite their friends along to OT or PT sessions! ..Or whenever time out of the 'mainstream' classroom is needed 
  • To this day I never say "it's a quarter till..." or "it's a quarter past.." and I still don't hold my pen in that tri-pod grip. At the time when I was six or seven I thought that because I didn't "get" these concepts I would amount to nothing, or that I would never become an adult. Clearly I was so very wrong. Obviously kids with any kind of disability are going to have challenges, but just because they are struggling doesn't mean that they should feel like it is the end of the world! 


Posted in , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment
Copyright © 2011 Perfectly Imperfecta. Powered by Blogger.

Search