Adventures from my Kindergarten classroom continue.
As I head into week six of school, it has become increasingly obvious that I should point out something very big that I've been pushing under the rug for a while about my classroom.
Throughout these past five weeks I have had to wrestle with many changes, but the biggest thing I have had to wrestle with is a five-year-old boy I will call lovingly, AC (or "Anti-Christ"). He is a terror. I have dealt with mean or "bad" kids before but he takes the cake. He has made me realize that not all children are deep down, great kids...some of them are just rotten deep down, no matter how far down you dig.
Let me enlighten you...AC is smart...he is very clever and reads at level. BUT he has major behavioral issues. I first saw this when he climbed on our tables and counters day one of school and thought it was funny to leave the classroom whenever he liked. This behavior has since escalated into leaving the classroom at least six times a day, throwing objects, screaming, making noises, throwing chairs, climbing on tables, bookshelves and chairs, playing with scissors, slamming doors repeatedly and my favorite, hitting/punching/kicking teachers.
I have had to put AC in a bear hug hold at least twice a day (something I am not trained to do) and have come home with multiple bruises, scraps and scratches. But Friday took the cake...Friday, he showed his truest colors and it's fair to say that I really dislike this boy.
On Friday morning, he came in as he usually does, sweet as pie, smiling and saying, "good morning, Ms. Katie." And then around 9:30am (every day its around the same time) he got up and started playing around on our bean bag chairs. At break, he sat on two of our girls on purpose and after I told him that he wasn't being safe with his body on the carpet during shared reading, he ran to the scissors bin. As he wrestled through the scissors bin, I pulled his hand out and put the bin out of his reach. He then rammed his head into my stomach and grunted loudly at me in anger.
I squatted down to his level and asked him to use his words because I couldn't help him if he couldn't use his words and he yelled, "get away from me."
I said, "OK. But we need to be safe with our bodies, OK? When you're ready, I'd love a partner on the carpet."
He screamed, "no! I don't want to." Then he proceeded to look me dead in the eyes, pull back his head and ram it into my nose. Yes, boys and girls, I was head-butted by a five-year-old; something I never thought would happen to me.
As my eyes welled up, I grabbed his arm and took him straight to the office so the Special Ed. Coordinator could take him off my hands while I iced my nose.
This is my life. This is around 65% of what I do 40 hours a week. I told my roommate that I feel like I am caught in an abusive relationship because he beats me up, does whatever he wants to me and I keep smiling and coming back to him the next day as if nothing happened.
He has been kicked out of almost every school he's been at because of this behavior. I am too stubborn to let him get kicked out BUT at what point do we start drawing the line? Does he need to take the scissors and cut me with them to have something radical done? I love where I am and I love my kids; but this is week six. If this is what's happening at week six, I fear a roundhouse kick to my face might be just around the bend at week 16. What's next?
So I am left, with this sinking feeling as I head into school tomorrow morning because my abuser will be there and no matter how hard he knocks me down, gosh darn it, the only thing I can do is get back up again.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Go Forward, Don't Look Back
My lead teacher and I have been doing assessments on our kids since the beginning of the year...so around a month or so. And my kids run the gambit of reading levels and math levels. I have only one kid who can read at his appropriate level and one who is almost there and the rest are all reading below level. Two of my kids can't even tell me the letters in their names.
Instead of dwelling in the fact that my lead teacher and I have a lot of work to do, I am trying to keep the words my mom sent me yesterday in mind: "Go forward, don't look back."
I know where these kids are at; now it's time to push them to greatness. It's time to set the bar high and have them rise to it. It's so important that we get them all up to level now or it'll only become more difficult for them later in life. I'm not saying all my four-year olds need to write a novel by the end of the year, but having them gain the ability to recognize all 26 letters and write their first and last names isn't a crazy goal. I need to keep looking forward to what I hope they can accomplish.
Likewise, I went to the DMV yesterday. After sitting in line for an hour and a half, I walked up to the DMV worker (very nice, younger lady) and told her what I had to do. I had to switch my WA state license over to a DC one. She took my paperwork and my WA state license and went straight to work. As she was wrapping up I asked, "you think I could keep my old license? Ya know, for sentimental reasons."
She looked at me and said, "no, we have to shred them."
I guess I wasn't pathetic enough so I replied, "how about you don't tell anyone? I mean, I feel like a traitor, switching licenses and abandoning my home."
She said, "no, I have to shred it...it's our policy."
Not moments later the nice, young lady plopped my old license in the shredder right in front of me. She didn't even wait for me to leave. And with that, I knew I had started a new chapter in my life. I walked back to the car and my mom texted me, "go forward, don't look back." She must've felt like a broken record at this point. She's right though, she's always right! I need to look forward with my life like I am looking forward
in my students' lives. Looking back is OK from time to time, but dwelling in the change and not moving forward only hurts me more, instead of help me.
I guess this jumbled thought pattern comes down to this, although my license may reflect my immediate future, I don't think I could ever neglect my past. I still love you like the dickens, Washington state!
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Gettin' Political About Government Aide
Alrighty, so I hate to use this as a platform for talking politics because I like to use my blog as self-preservation and exploration more than political commentary; BUT I was just watching the news and I heard about a two-minute clip of Paul Ryan (Republican VP hopeful) and his views on government aide.
In the clip, he states that "too many people feel entitled to government aide like SSI." He goes on to say that he believes the government aide programs need to be re-vamped and re-evaluated (which I agree with, but his re-vamping and my re-vamping would look very, very different).
I got a little heated when I this clip because of what I know and what I've seen. In DC, I worked for eight months as a case manager, trying to find housing, trying to gain citizenship, trying to find jobs and trying to apply for government aide like SSI with many, many homeless men and women. In that time, I sat through enough SSI applications and phone interviews with different guest, so needless to say, I know the process.
For example, picking just one man experiencing homelessness out of a hat, there's Gilbert. Now Gilbert has been applying for SSI and SSDI (disability) for at least nine months now. In that time he has suffered a heart attack and has had to re-learn some of his speech because his heart attack messed with his memory and speech a little. When I started working with Gilbert in July, he showed me his disabilities...yes, it's plural.
He showed me his right hand (which had about a six inch long bubble on it that he's had for 30 years). He injured his hand working at age 23 and hasn't been able to hold a pen since. He showed me his ankles and feet (really gross, I'll spare you the details) and explained what the heart attack, he suffered from just months prior, had done to his daily routine.
Gilbert has been denied SSI and SSDI a few times...DENIED. Yes, boys and girls, denied and I'll say it one more time for good measure, DENIED. He has never approached me with a sense of entitlement and he has never asked for more than he needed. Gilbert is just one man out of the countless others I could share about.
So now I bring it back to where it began...Paul Ryan. Mr. Ryan, if "too many people felt entitled to SSI and were abusing government aide" than how come people who truly need it, like my friend Gilbert, can't even get approved for it? Why does it take over nine months to get approved for it (if you ever do) or go through the process? Wouldn't those who truly need it fight for it as long as they had to? They would stick with it because their livelihood depended on it. So maybe by the time it's finally awarded to them...hmmm...they might feel entitled to it or worse, earned it.
My over-all questions for all political figures are these: when have you ever stepped into a government aide office? When have you ever attempted to ask for help, when you desperately needed it and were denied three times? When have you waited in line for three hours to even submit your food stamps application, only to be talked down to, told you wrote something incorrectly so your application was denied, verbally abused or neglected entirely? When has that ever been part of your life experience? When has that ever been your reality? I know it was never a part of my reality until eight months ago.
I didn't fully understand government aide until I started helping people apply for it. And now I know how tedious and embarrassing and hopeless the process is. If the many people I assisted in applying for government aide is who Mr. Ryan believes feels "entitled" than I would challenge him spend a day, nothing more, just a day, applying for these "oh-so-wonderful" government programs he is referring to.
In the clip, he states that "too many people feel entitled to government aide like SSI." He goes on to say that he believes the government aide programs need to be re-vamped and re-evaluated (which I agree with, but his re-vamping and my re-vamping would look very, very different).
I got a little heated when I this clip because of what I know and what I've seen. In DC, I worked for eight months as a case manager, trying to find housing, trying to gain citizenship, trying to find jobs and trying to apply for government aide like SSI with many, many homeless men and women. In that time, I sat through enough SSI applications and phone interviews with different guest, so needless to say, I know the process.
For example, picking just one man experiencing homelessness out of a hat, there's Gilbert. Now Gilbert has been applying for SSI and SSDI (disability) for at least nine months now. In that time he has suffered a heart attack and has had to re-learn some of his speech because his heart attack messed with his memory and speech a little. When I started working with Gilbert in July, he showed me his disabilities...yes, it's plural.
He showed me his right hand (which had about a six inch long bubble on it that he's had for 30 years). He injured his hand working at age 23 and hasn't been able to hold a pen since. He showed me his ankles and feet (really gross, I'll spare you the details) and explained what the heart attack, he suffered from just months prior, had done to his daily routine.
Gilbert has been denied SSI and SSDI a few times...DENIED. Yes, boys and girls, denied and I'll say it one more time for good measure, DENIED. He has never approached me with a sense of entitlement and he has never asked for more than he needed. Gilbert is just one man out of the countless others I could share about.
So now I bring it back to where it began...Paul Ryan. Mr. Ryan, if "too many people felt entitled to SSI and were abusing government aide" than how come people who truly need it, like my friend Gilbert, can't even get approved for it? Why does it take over nine months to get approved for it (if you ever do) or go through the process? Wouldn't those who truly need it fight for it as long as they had to? They would stick with it because their livelihood depended on it. So maybe by the time it's finally awarded to them...hmmm...they might feel entitled to it or worse, earned it.
My over-all questions for all political figures are these: when have you ever stepped into a government aide office? When have you ever attempted to ask for help, when you desperately needed it and were denied three times? When have you waited in line for three hours to even submit your food stamps application, only to be talked down to, told you wrote something incorrectly so your application was denied, verbally abused or neglected entirely? When has that ever been part of your life experience? When has that ever been your reality? I know it was never a part of my reality until eight months ago.
I didn't fully understand government aide until I started helping people apply for it. And now I know how tedious and embarrassing and hopeless the process is. If the many people I assisted in applying for government aide is who Mr. Ryan believes feels "entitled" than I would challenge him spend a day, nothing more, just a day, applying for these "oh-so-wonderful" government programs he is referring to.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Is it Afternoon Time?
Another "Sunday" posting from yours truly...only a day late... :)
I have a student who at 2:30pm, or so, will ask daily if it's afternoon time. He raises his hand firmly in the air and as I approach, he sits wide-eyed ready to ask me the inevitable question, "Ms. Katie, is it afternoon time yet?" By now, I am used to his quirks especially considering this is the same little guy who asks me to flush the toilet after he uses it because it scares him.
But my answer to his afternoon question was the same every time, "Well, it's 2:43pm (or 2:17pm or 2:30pm), so that makes it afternoon time." I never caught on as to why he asked me this every day until this past Friday.
On Friday, like clockwork at 2:26pm, he confidently put his hand in the air. I asked him what was up and he asked me if it was afternoon time. I told him it was 2:26pm, so that made it afternoon time. Before I got up from my crouch I asked, "so why do you ask me that every day?"
He looked down at the ground and said, "I don't like afternoon time."
I asked, "why is that? It means you get to go home."
Without a beat he said, "that's why I don't like it. I want to stay here. I don't want to play with grown ups, here is more fun."
His statement hit my heart and I said, "well, Ms. Katie and Mr. McMahon are grown ups, what makes school so different than home?"
He whipped around and said, "Ms. Katie, you're not a grown up, you're a teacher!"
Truer words were never spoken before that moment. My lil' buddy was only foreshadowing my weekend as I headed into work Saturday morning for a "Meet and Play" at my school. Here, there were about 40 kids and 70 parents. My principal came up to me as I was hula hooping with a 5-year-old girl and said, "why don't you introduce yourself to some parents?"
I looked at her, of course dropped the hula hoop, and begrudgingly sulked off to find some grown ups to talk to. In that moment I thought of my little guy and his dislike of afternoon time and it all became clear.
I guess people gravitate toward those they relate to the most; and for me, and for my lil' friend, learning, laughing, getting excited over small things and enjoying a young spirit is our "day time". It is what gives us energy and life, it's what motivates us and it's always a little stinky when the afternoon comes and we have to do the things we don't naturally want to do.
I think it's important for me to keep in mind the thing I told my lil' friend to concentrate on: the positive to the day ending, is that it will begin again tomorrow and we can have the whole day to be together until it's afternoon time and we have to be with grown-ups again but eventually, the day time will come back.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
I'm a Cowboy, on a Steel Horse I Ride
Another Sunday reflection with Katie is due tonight.
I sometimes feel like the slow, smooth jazz radio DJ, Delilah as I begin my posts because I feel like I need to be in the right mood to post. I need to snuggle up to my computer, have my glasses firmly placed on my face and my cup of water neatly placed beside me before I can begin. And then I gain this sense that I need to "slow down and share about someone I love" and as Delilah so aptly puts it in her show: "slow down and love someone." So tonight, I am slowing down and sharing a story about a wee one I fell in love with.
His father is the lead prosecutor for DC but he is all of maybe three feet tall and is so incredibly eager to make my co-teacher or me happy. He always raises his hand, follows directions and smiles with a glint of suspicion in his eyes when you are kidding around with him. He is my favorite and I would take 20 of him in my class.
He is four. He is four but his personality is big. He is four and when he gets excited, he fumbles and stutters on his words because the sentence is just too exciting to put together. When at recess he tells me that I have to be the monster and chase him and then when I am doing it wrong he makes sure to help me out by telling me how to be a better monster. When he isn't running from me at recess, he's pretending the bottom half of the playground is his ice cream shop and sells ice cream cones for $2. Then, he always gives me an extra free one.
I have two favorite moments with my four-year-old friend. One, was when we were making a giant floor puzzle this week. He asked me to help and I said I would (of course I couldn't back down from puzzle making). As I was helping and he was starting to get piece after piece to fit, he grew more and more excited. His sentences quickly escalated to "we're doing it! We're getting it!" to the fumbling and stuttering of words. When he completed the border, I looked at him and said "great job, man!" and he looked up at me, with his little brown eyes and got caught up on his words, "you-and-puzzles-and-so-much-and-the-pieces-and-puzzles-and-fun-puzzles-this-is-great-puzzles-and..." (takes a deep breath) "will you be my best friend?"
This is why I teach. This is why a four-year-old and I can hang out for hours and never get bored.
The second occasion was on Thursday. In class, we've been learning sight words. This week's sight words have been "the", "A" and "I". To help the kids learn how to spell them, we hold up pretend lassos and swing them around once for each letter so "t-h-e- THE" would be four lasso swings over our heads. Well, at lunch on Thursday, my new best friend was making a nasty, mean face which made me worried. Why had this once very joyful boy have a scowl on his face? I asked him what was wrong and he said, "I'm a cowboy and I am here to protect this class from bad guys."
I looked at my best friend and asked, "so do you want me to call you Cowboy Tito* now?"
He said, "of course, because that's who I am and if anyone is a bad guy, I will get them."
I said, "well thank you Cowboy Tito. I'm sure glad we have such a brave friend to help us out."
He smiled and said, "Ms. Katie, it's me, it's Tito. But don't worry, I will be Cowboy Tito if bad guys ever show up."
This little man, my new best friend, has stolen my heart and I am so in love with the work I get to do. Whenever I am exhausted or sick of repeating the same direction over and over again, I think of Cowboy Tito and his smile and remember why I do what I do and why my heart truly belongs with children.
*Names have been changed
I sometimes feel like the slow, smooth jazz radio DJ, Delilah as I begin my posts because I feel like I need to be in the right mood to post. I need to snuggle up to my computer, have my glasses firmly placed on my face and my cup of water neatly placed beside me before I can begin. And then I gain this sense that I need to "slow down and share about someone I love" and as Delilah so aptly puts it in her show: "slow down and love someone." So tonight, I am slowing down and sharing a story about a wee one I fell in love with.
His father is the lead prosecutor for DC but he is all of maybe three feet tall and is so incredibly eager to make my co-teacher or me happy. He always raises his hand, follows directions and smiles with a glint of suspicion in his eyes when you are kidding around with him. He is my favorite and I would take 20 of him in my class.
He is four. He is four but his personality is big. He is four and when he gets excited, he fumbles and stutters on his words because the sentence is just too exciting to put together. When at recess he tells me that I have to be the monster and chase him and then when I am doing it wrong he makes sure to help me out by telling me how to be a better monster. When he isn't running from me at recess, he's pretending the bottom half of the playground is his ice cream shop and sells ice cream cones for $2. Then, he always gives me an extra free one.
I have two favorite moments with my four-year-old friend. One, was when we were making a giant floor puzzle this week. He asked me to help and I said I would (of course I couldn't back down from puzzle making). As I was helping and he was starting to get piece after piece to fit, he grew more and more excited. His sentences quickly escalated to "we're doing it! We're getting it!" to the fumbling and stuttering of words. When he completed the border, I looked at him and said "great job, man!" and he looked up at me, with his little brown eyes and got caught up on his words, "you-and-puzzles-and-so-much-and-the-pieces-and-puzzles-and-fun-puzzles-this-is-great-puzzles-and..." (takes a deep breath) "will you be my best friend?"
This is why I teach. This is why a four-year-old and I can hang out for hours and never get bored.
The second occasion was on Thursday. In class, we've been learning sight words. This week's sight words have been "the", "A" and "I". To help the kids learn how to spell them, we hold up pretend lassos and swing them around once for each letter so "t-h-e- THE" would be four lasso swings over our heads. Well, at lunch on Thursday, my new best friend was making a nasty, mean face which made me worried. Why had this once very joyful boy have a scowl on his face? I asked him what was wrong and he said, "I'm a cowboy and I am here to protect this class from bad guys."
I looked at my best friend and asked, "so do you want me to call you Cowboy Tito* now?"
He said, "of course, because that's who I am and if anyone is a bad guy, I will get them."
I said, "well thank you Cowboy Tito. I'm sure glad we have such a brave friend to help us out."
He smiled and said, "Ms. Katie, it's me, it's Tito. But don't worry, I will be Cowboy Tito if bad guys ever show up."
This little man, my new best friend, has stolen my heart and I am so in love with the work I get to do. Whenever I am exhausted or sick of repeating the same direction over and over again, I think of Cowboy Tito and his smile and remember why I do what I do and why my heart truly belongs with children.
*Names have been changed
Sunday, September 2, 2012
The Dance Keeps Changing
Well, it's Sunday and time for another Sunday reflection, brought to you by me!
I survived my first week of teaching Kindergarten. It happened and when all is said and done, I am excited to return on Tuesday.
As my last post suggests, my class is a little nontraditional in that we are a rag tag group of misfits thrown together; including yours truly. Our roster has changed at four times in the last week and the last change broke my heart a little. This is the subject of my reflection today.
My little buddy, Jason*, is 5 and in school for the first time. He has an IEP (special needs) and is an English Language Learner. He speaks Spanish (which I've enjoyed because I get to practice with him) and we've been working on his colors this week. He hates the dance parties we have in our classroom and will throw his hands on his head and look down at the ground in disgust whenever we begin dancing. It's hilarious.
Jason isn't literate in either language and barely knows Spanish. One of our golden moments with him was on Tuesday when my lead teacher asked him if he liked his graham cracker and he responded, "me gusta mucho" (I like it a lot). We were so excited because this meant he understood the words we were saying. He had some inkling of understanding. Jason gets frustrated in our class because he doesn't always understand what we're talking about and the only way he can communicate this is by crying or calling out in Spanish.
He has a big heart though. When he smiles, it warms everyone's hearts. He has a way of looking at you and making you laugh. He can't hold a marker, barely can hold a crayon (we're working on his motor skills) and he demolished his paper kite when learning how to use scissors; but Jason smiled the entire time, laughing all the way. He's my boy and my lead teacher loves him too.
On Wednesday afternoon, we had another golden moment with Jason. We turned on the music, began our dance party and after the usual hands on the head, downward eyes and occasional sitting; Jason got up and started dancing. Jason started dancing with his classmates. I almost started crying. He was so happy.
On Thursday afternoon, one of my supervisors came into my classroom and informed me that Jason was going to be moved to the non-categorical classroom (the children with more severe IEPs). This broke my heart. As I said goodbye, Jason said his usual, "adios...ahhh..."
The next morning I was walking in my classroom and I stopped to see Jason standing in front of my classroom door. I walked up to him and asked how he was doing (in Spanish) and all he said was, "no" and shook his head. When I looked behind me, I saw Jason's mom and little sister and my supervisor, trying to entice Jason to go to his new classroom. Jason kept saying, "no" and shaking his head. He stood there, with his little backpack on, fighting this change. He knew he didn't belong in that classroom as much as I did. It took 20 minutes, numerous toys, bubbles and my lead teacher to get him into his new classroom. As much as it made my heart happy/proud it also made me sad at the same time; and I also became frustrated.
I don't agree with this change. I believe he has more of a language issue than a special need and we were making progress with him; he was producing English when asked to say it in English and was communicating with us in one way or another. I learned a lesson though, I learned that no matter how much I advocate for him or believe within my heart that this move was the wrong decision, it's not my choice. I have very little say in the situation. I can cry, scream, protest, fight as much as I want, but at the end of the day, Jason is in the non-cat classroom and all I can do is pray he kicks so much booty in the non-cat room that he's returned to our classroom one day.
Until then, our dance parties are a little less humorous and rewarding; still fun, I just miss him throwing his hands on his head in disgust while sporting that huge smile.
*Names have been changed
I survived my first week of teaching Kindergarten. It happened and when all is said and done, I am excited to return on Tuesday.
As my last post suggests, my class is a little nontraditional in that we are a rag tag group of misfits thrown together; including yours truly. Our roster has changed at four times in the last week and the last change broke my heart a little. This is the subject of my reflection today.
My little buddy, Jason*, is 5 and in school for the first time. He has an IEP (special needs) and is an English Language Learner. He speaks Spanish (which I've enjoyed because I get to practice with him) and we've been working on his colors this week. He hates the dance parties we have in our classroom and will throw his hands on his head and look down at the ground in disgust whenever we begin dancing. It's hilarious.
Jason isn't literate in either language and barely knows Spanish. One of our golden moments with him was on Tuesday when my lead teacher asked him if he liked his graham cracker and he responded, "me gusta mucho" (I like it a lot). We were so excited because this meant he understood the words we were saying. He had some inkling of understanding. Jason gets frustrated in our class because he doesn't always understand what we're talking about and the only way he can communicate this is by crying or calling out in Spanish.
He has a big heart though. When he smiles, it warms everyone's hearts. He has a way of looking at you and making you laugh. He can't hold a marker, barely can hold a crayon (we're working on his motor skills) and he demolished his paper kite when learning how to use scissors; but Jason smiled the entire time, laughing all the way. He's my boy and my lead teacher loves him too.
On Wednesday afternoon, we had another golden moment with Jason. We turned on the music, began our dance party and after the usual hands on the head, downward eyes and occasional sitting; Jason got up and started dancing. Jason started dancing with his classmates. I almost started crying. He was so happy.
On Thursday afternoon, one of my supervisors came into my classroom and informed me that Jason was going to be moved to the non-categorical classroom (the children with more severe IEPs). This broke my heart. As I said goodbye, Jason said his usual, "adios...ahhh..."
The next morning I was walking in my classroom and I stopped to see Jason standing in front of my classroom door. I walked up to him and asked how he was doing (in Spanish) and all he said was, "no" and shook his head. When I looked behind me, I saw Jason's mom and little sister and my supervisor, trying to entice Jason to go to his new classroom. Jason kept saying, "no" and shaking his head. He stood there, with his little backpack on, fighting this change. He knew he didn't belong in that classroom as much as I did. It took 20 minutes, numerous toys, bubbles and my lead teacher to get him into his new classroom. As much as it made my heart happy/proud it also made me sad at the same time; and I also became frustrated.
I don't agree with this change. I believe he has more of a language issue than a special need and we were making progress with him; he was producing English when asked to say it in English and was communicating with us in one way or another. I learned a lesson though, I learned that no matter how much I advocate for him or believe within my heart that this move was the wrong decision, it's not my choice. I have very little say in the situation. I can cry, scream, protest, fight as much as I want, but at the end of the day, Jason is in the non-cat classroom and all I can do is pray he kicks so much booty in the non-cat room that he's returned to our classroom one day.
Until then, our dance parties are a little less humorous and rewarding; still fun, I just miss him throwing his hands on his head in disgust while sporting that huge smile.
*Names have been changed
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)