Thank Heaven for Little Girls!

I've always been a firm believer in talking openly and honestly with kids about hard things--especially when they have a friend that gets seriously ill.  Kids' fears and curiosity can come out kind of mean-sounding to someone going through sickness, but in reality if you address these things head-on and from the start they are SO AMAZINGLY KIND. 

I learn so much from these kids every day.  When So-and-So was finally able to stay through lunch recess, there was a swarm of little girls who wanted to play with her.  It didn't matter to them that she licked everything on the playground or broke out in strange songs (or often Spanish) or didn't talk about the things normal seven-year-olds talk about.  They just knew that in order to be her friend, they needed to hold her hand and speak softly to her and accept her for all that she *could* do instead of all the things she *can't*.  They took turns sliding with her down a small slide, hand-in-hand, and were so patient as they coaxed her to sit down every time (which is no small feat). 

A well of emotion comes up every day at recess as I let her go and she runs or walks off with those sweet little girls.  I wish we could all just open our hearts a bit to the people that are different from us, whatever those differences might entail.  It's okay to disagree or to be a little curious about important things to us and each other, but we would do well to be more accepting and embracing of the people behind those differences.  I wonder how many adults would hold hands and run around on the playground day after day with another adult that licked things and broke out into songs?

We have much to learn from our children.

These are the Days

"If you don't walk as most people do,

Some people walk away from you,

But I won't! I won't!

If you don't talk as most people do,

Some people talk and laugh at you,

But I won't! I won't!

I'll walk with you.  I'll talk with you.

That's how I'll show my love for you..."

~Carol Lynn Pearson

 

These are the words to a most adorable song children learn in my church.  :)  It's SO cute and rings especially true when you know children who need a little extra TLC. 

 

The little girl I work with at school goes to the same church.  She's learned this song since before it could be about her.  On my first day working with her, I'll admit, I was a little overwhelmed.  Knowing her "since before," being friends with her family, is a HUGE advantage, but it is also a lot of pressure.  Also, she's a child that needs a lot of hands-on kind of attention, and even though it wasn't frustrating at all it WAS a lot to process that first day.  Mid-morning I started to panic inside me--what did I get myself into?  What could I possibly have to offer that would actually HELP her?  What if I couldn't handle an outburst or help her do all she CAN do for herself and reach her potential (the teacher in me has to ask)?  But just as the anxiety was settling in, right in the middle of a math paper, as though she could read my thoughts, she burst out in song--

 

"If you don't talk as most people do,

Some people talk and laugh at you..."

 

And she stopped.

 

So I picked it up again.

 

"But I won't!  I won't!

I'll walk with you.  I'll talk with you.

That's how I'll show my love for you."

 

And she smiled at me.

 

These are the moments I couldn't make up if I tried.  And these are the moments I need to record, so on the harder days I remember why I get up and bike 5 miles roundtrip to school every day. 

 

***

One of the little "quirks" this adorable child has is that she spells out most of what she wants to say.  Fast.  It's a good workout for my brain, for sure.  Also, because she has impulse control issues combined focus issues combined with the need to put everything in her mouth, I help her with everything physical, like holding her hand while we run in gym, writing for her (I let her tell me what to write, though), or going to the bathroom. 

 

Today, we did a whole FOUR PAGES of math in one sitting.  AND she got them all right.  So while we were in the bathroom and I was pulling up her pants I said, "You did SUCH A GOOD JOB TODAY, SO-AND-SO!  You worked really hard on that math paper AND you got them all right!  You are doing so well this morning!"

 

She beamed at me.  A genuine beam.  Which isn't too rare, really--she's a little ray of sunshine--but rarely is there real JOY behind that smile.  And she exclaimed back, with that real joy and WITHOUT SPELLING, "Thanks, Celeste Si-So!"  (That's her nickname for me.)

 

And then she hugged me.

 

Without me having to prompt her.

 

If you knew how hard it is for her to find that *genuine* JOY, you'd know what a big, proud moment this was.  This is the So-and-So I knew before, and for a brief moment she was back. 

 

I was surprised, but I just hugged her back and said, "I sure love you, kiddo."  

 

These are the days, my friend!



Some STRATEGIES

(Part 1 of MANY, I'm sure!)

I wanted to record a few ideas I had that could help me in my future classroom, or at church, or with my niece, or wherever I might get to work with children with special needs.  Of course, there are as many different needs as there are children who have them, and there are just as many ways to meet those needs.  But I'd like to have something to start from.  So here are some pics of ideas I've seen used in our school's resource room that I want to remember:

There are LOTS of ways to organize your library, but when you're helping struggling readers it seems easiest and best to keep your instructional material organized by levels (numbers or letters or what have you).  The fun books can be kept by author or genre or theme, but this is easiest to pull for instructional reasons.

This light & learn is something I wanted to remember to buy...they are SO FUN for young ones.  One of our little boys with severe physical disabilities LOVES the sounds Mickey or the pencil makes.  

Another cool idea for kids with severe motor control issues--have a stamp with their name so they can still put their own name at the top of every paper!  I work with a little girl that is slowly losing her fine motor skills, so this would be awesome to have for her.

You can organize file folder games or shoebox activities according to skill/standard.  Easy to pull when you're doing your assessments and realizing a student needs extra practice.

 These next little posters were cute animal-themed ways to teach basic reading strategies.  I know most teachers teach these same things to early readers anyway, but the animals help make it more memorable.  You could even have a bookmark with each of these animals on the front and the strategies printed on the back for them to keep with them. :)

Note to self: MAKE ONE OF THESE!  I would make it in an even bigger plastic bottle (like a LONG water bottle or something) so the "rain" sound lasts longer.  But if you stuff it with toothpicks and then let some rice filter through the sticks, it's a super fun sound that the kids seem to like a lot.  In the background are a few other fun "toys" used for sensory stimulation and such--a water bottle filled with fun things, and a sensory balloon matching game that I MUST duplicate for Caida soon!  :)

 These are some calm-down techniques used for kids who have a shorter fuse:

If I ever have any autistic children in my classroom, or even if not, I MUST find one of these!  It's amazing how much our three autistic kiddos love this thing, I don't even really know why but it's great fun.  And I love how the "fish tank" is so tall and skinny it could easily fit in those weird spaces of the classroom that are usually wasted space. 

For kiddos who need to fidget a little to focus--an exercise band around the bottom of the chair for them to push against.  Saw this on Pinterest, but in this resource room I've seen it work first-hand and I can attest that it really does help!

That's it for round 1 of my strategies I'm learning.  I'm sure there will be MANY more posts like this in the next year as I learn and see more things happening.  :)

Human Hearts

It's sad, but true, that I have always been intimated by children with special needs.  The biggest part of me is simply afraid of failing them.  Not knowing what to expect or what to do in different situations, and wanting for those children especially to still feel included and to achieve as much as they can, is an ache that is particularly hard for me to handle.  I had one student in my student teaching classroom who spent most of his day and got all of his grades in the resource room, and I had NO IDEA what to do with him when he was with me.  I cannot wait for the EDUCATION that this job will be, to fill in the gaps a little and learn how best to reach students like him. 

Part of me, though, is awful and afraid they'll distract other students in the classroom.  Or afraid I am not compassionate enough and I will lose my patience even though I know they can't help it.  Part of me worries how other teachers/professionals/parents are judging me in my interactions with them.  Part of me doesn't want to embarrass them by singling them out.  The scheduling of a resource room day is, I've found out, really stressful.  Part of me doesn't know how to relate--I've been pretty blessed with a quick mind and wellness on all fronts, for the most part, and I just don't know what to say or how to act.  And I think about these things A LOT, and the thinking often keeps me from doing anything.

There are a lot of complicated parts to this teaching thing as it is, and when you throw special needs into the mix, it just gets a LOT MORE COMPLICATED.

Until you realize, it really isn't.

People are people.  'Nuff said.

It's funny to me how spending even just three days with these unique, vibrant, determined, and loving children has had me looking differently at the people I pass on the street, on the bus, in the supermarket.  I even made eye contact and said hello the other day to a man in a scooter. 

Not much to brag about, for sure, but a LOT to be humbled about and grateful for.

It's a first step.

How Did I Get Here?

As this blog is going to record my journey as a special education paraprofessional, I figured it was only appropriate to record the journey that got me here in the first place. 

To me, it is a miracle.  After 3 1/2 years at one university in the Rockies, a 2 1/2 year hiatus due to health issues, and a 3-year-long triumphal return to a university in my midwestern hometown, I worked LONG AND HARD for my elementary education degree.  Countless experiences confirmed to me over and over again that this is where I was supposed to be, what I was supposed to study, and what I wanted as my life's work.  And I planned to have my own classroom as soon as anybody wanted me.

Nobody did.

I had a 3.97 GPA, lots of work experience under my belt (at least for a first-year teacher) as a tutor and sub and camp counselor and before-and-after school program worker and volunteer teacher, etc.  I had a GREAT student teaching experience and got some great references and letters of recommendations out of it.  I started subbing just under a year ago, but I really wanted to (and was FINALLY in a place, personally, where I *could*) start teaching my OWN kiddos.  I applied to probably three dozen jobs in the area.  Never even got an interview.

I felt devastated.  And forgotten.  And very, very confused.  Why did no one want what I had to offer?

Enter Wednesday of last week.  Deep in the throws of a pity-party for my ONE last-minute-interview-gone-well-but-not-well-enough, I was in the mood to do ANYTHING but anything useful.  I got a call at 11:00 from a local principal at a school I hadn't even applied to, but word-of-mouth scored me an interview at 1:00.  And by interview, I mean a "so-and-so said you're amazing and their word is good enough for me; if you want this job, it's yours."  And so, my prayers for a steady, meaningful job where I was truly NEEDED were answered.  I had the paperwork filled out by 3:00 and started the next morning.

Little did I know all this time that the little seven-year-old girl for whom I'd be a para is someone I KNOW.  I knew her before she ever needed intervention.  I've watched her grow up in my church and I've prayed for and cried with her family as cancer and the radiation that cured it racked her brain.  I taught her two older siblings for years in Sunday school.  My niece (also a special needs child) was in her class.  And, come to find out, her parents had been anxious about sending her to school with a para because of all the UNKNOWNS. 

It is such a sweet, special blessing to know you are where you need to be and that EVERYTHING else happened for a good reason.  It also feels pretty darn amazing to have the particular skill set and availability to be an answer to someone else's prayers.  I felt awfully proud for about 5 seconds.  And then the humility came.

First days are tough with any job, but especially when there are emotions and physical labor involved.  Paras do it ALL, often without a break.  I am LOVING the learning involved in this job, the loving and the PERSONALNESS and the humanness of it all.  It really brings a lot of things into focus.  And I am learning all the things I wanted to know about helping children with special needs in an inclusive classroom, from the side I SHOULD learn it on. 

I already feel my heart softening, my brain spinning, my arms aching, my compassion growing, and time slowing down at moments it almost feels like it is standing still.  I have loved all THREE DAYS.  :)  I cannot wait to learn and experience more.  I hope to use this blog as a place to record my impressions, the strategies I want to remember, the lessons I learn, and the children who, however long this job may last, will touch my life forever.