Mrs A Is Going To Lose It

There was a restorative justice meeting at school this morning. Brother is finally coming back after 6 weeks of illness, police intervention, psychologist's appointments and home schooling. His suspension re-entry included this meeting, where the three people most affected by his actions in the school setting sat opposite him at a table and told him what it meant to  have been violated in this way.

Before he entered, the three of us, two teachers and one student, encouraged each other nervously. I was surprised by the level of emotion I brought to the meeting; it's been weeks, and yet the sense of betrayal lingers.

He came in looking suitably sheepish, withdrawn, closed even.The Head of School had confided that she was unsure of the authenticity of his remorse. There had been many 'platitudes' spouted, many 'I'm really sorry'-s, downcast eyes and cliches. It all sounded a bit practised. As he came in, he had difficulty meeting our eyes, although I could see him trying.

As the Head of School welcomed everyone to the meeting, outlined the purpose and prayed for us, I felt a tight wedge of emotion starting to unravel. My eyes prickled. I started to surreptitiously suck in air.

The first teacher, our art teacher,  began her explanation of how his actions had affected her. He apologised, dry eyed. The Student, a beautiful, gentle Asian lad, swallowing hard, managed to contain himself enough to say:
"I was so disappointed, that you stole my phone, you were in my Home Group, you sold it on Gumtree to a man who didn't know it was my phone and the Police had to tell me all about what had happened."

And then it was my turn.
The whole thing leaked out through my eyeballs.
"I'm sorry," I choked,"Mrs A is going to lose it."

And then I told him. I told him through tears and sobs as I outlined the hurt, the betrayal, the awful week with no phone...(which I now realise is more of a life support system than a phone!). I told him how I could NOT believe that it had been one of our students that would do this to me. I told him of the money it had cost me and the anguish that had ruined my last night of the musical, which should have been a joyful celebration of our efforts. And then I told him how frightened I was for him, and his future.

He started off in the same practised tone but I asked him a question or two and then he started to go red and tear up.
" I don't know why I did it. I used to take things when I was little and I wished I could tell them I'd done it but I never did.....I guess it must be a habit or something"
I couldn't help myself, I interjected.
"Brother, I am not only upset because of my shock and betrayal, I am frightened for you. I am frightened for your future if you choose this path."

And then he started to weep.

Our beautiful art teacher put the icing on the cake.
"I have always had a problem with trust. I will cut people off if they betray me. There is nothing else. I don't need them in my life. But when I started to join the dots Brother and realised that it was you who'd taken the art camera, I realised God was teaching me something. I had been there for every occasion where you'd affected someone in our school. I was there when Student's phone was stolen and I saw how he was affected; I had spent hours with you using the art camera and I felt personally affected by that loss and I was there when Mrs A's phone went missing, and she didn't know her husband's number because it was in her phone, so we had to put MY number into the 'find my iphone' app and then it was me that got the phone call to say someone had bought her phone off Gum Tree. And when I realised this Brother, I knew that God had a lesson for me, and I prayed for you right then and there, I prayed that you would be able to take responsibility for this and that it wouldn't break you."

There was much weeping.

Our Head of School reported that it was the most affected she'd seen him.

I really, really hope that this worthy young man has learned a once only life lesson, and that standing at a crossroads, he chooses the right path. He has everything going for him. He has a loving family, a forgiving school, he's smart, creative and funny. He's a nice looking lad with a quick, creative mind and there is much he could bring to the world. God has given him everything he needs to overcome his weakness. Let us hope that he accepts it all and moves forward in love.

And if he does, I think this restorative justice process will have had an enormous impact.

I first heard about it back in 2007, and whilst I know it is an uncomfortable thing for our Western Society to come to terms with, I think its benefits speak for themselves.

May there be more of it.

It's A Good Job I'm No Longer A Maths Teacher

So I'm totting up hours and the like, for next year.

Our timetable consists of 7 x 40 min lessons a day.

There are around 7 'severe' kids who will need 1:1 or at least 2:1 support from me next year. I'll give them 3 lessons each, any less and you don't get the consistency for progress. 21 lessons.

Then there's 5 lessons of Curriculum Support in the middle school and 3 lessons of flexible Year 9 support...that's 29 lessons. Admin, allow 6 lessons, that's the same as I've had this year...not ideal but it'll have to do....so...all up 35 lessons! Perfect!

With a sense of smug satisfaction and nagging amazement that it has worked out so well,  I saunter out to ask my colleague if I have missed anyone.

"So, I've worked it all out and it adds up exactly to 35 lessons per week!"

She looks at me curiously, at about the same as the lightbulb goes on in my head.

"But Arizaphale, you only work FOUR days a week."

28 lessons.

Rats.

Tales From The Chalkface: The Christmas Concert Edition

Scene: The stairwell. Myriads of tiny people in blue and white striped uniforms are returning from the gym, the scene of rehearsals for the Christmas Concert.

Me: (walking past a lively group, lining up at the foot of the stairs) Hello Reception! Have you been rehearsing for your concert?

Child 1: (bouncing from foot to foot with excitement) YES!!!!!!

Me: (continuing archly)And are you all going to be 'WOW' on Friday night?

Child 1/2/3: YES, YES, (giggles and squeals)

Me: Are you all going to be FANTASTIC?????

General Melee of Children: YES! WE'RE GOING TO BE FANTASTIC!!!!!!

Small But Determined Voice from the back of the line: I'm NOT.

Some five year old has been watching too much Monty Python, methinks.

What Are They Teaching Kids Nowadays?

 I was down in one of the Junior Primary classrooms the other day when the alphabet chart caught my eye. I called across to the teacher.
"Hey! What's going on with your cactus here??? What's that supposed to be teaching kids????"

The teacher took several moments to gaze at it in puzzlement before she 'clicked' and guffawed.
OK. So maybe it's just me.
"Really," I admonished,"And in a lovely school like this."
"Ha!" she retorted, "That's nothing. Have you seen the weird cow on our door???? The Teacher's Aide put it up and I haven't had the heart to take it down."
I had to admit that I hadn't really looked closely at the door cow so I went back for another squizz.

Disturbing. Seriously disturbing. And anatomically incorrect. Do illustrators not check these things??

Have an udderly nice day folks.

CHAOS

Well it has been another one of 'those' days in the madhouse that is work. I spent a large block of time walking a young pupil around the school while she scribbled a rambling stream of unrelated phrases on the back and front of A4 pieces of paper, tore them off the pad, screwed them up and started another page. All this whilst walking and intermittently talking to me. Given a recent over-enthusiastic 'Step' injury to my foot/ankle, it is the most exercise I have had in a week.

She argued with herself, raged in a contained but very disturbing manner and told me multiple times that I wouldn't understand what was going on in her head. She threatened violence, claimed she didn't know why she was behaving in this manner and made intermittent references to her biological family, the way they'd let her down and how she thought she might be insane but that she was actually quite used to it by now so what did it matter?

In the end, I wasn't able to really get to the bottom of her distress and anxiety and once we returned to the classroom after lunch she became more agitated again. I manoeuvred a hand over to the school counsellor and later heard that she had done a runner and secreted herself on an out of bounds balcony. At least she didn't leave the property.  I wondered if I should have stayed with her but rationalised that she was known to the counsellor and that seriously, I was pretty much out of my depth with that level of mental health disorder. Mind you, so was the counsellor, apparently.

After writing up a hasty and harried recount of events I finished off my teaching day and prepared for the evenings entertainment: parent teacher interviews.

We are an R-12 school which means we have various faculties with their own customs and traditions around parent/teacher interviews. Usually, the Primary (Elementary/Junior school) teachers meet parents in their themed, child centred classrooms with a tray of the pupil's work to pore over for about 10 minutes before chatting in depth about the amazing progress Suzie has made in her reader levels. Parents wait on tiny chairs outside in the corridor and I sit in my lovely colourful Special Ed room and pick up passing trade. So to speak.

When the Secondary (High School) interviews are held, they fill the Performing Arts Centre with rows of tiny desks, a teacher's chair on one side and two subservient parent chairs facing you on the other. An acrylic photo frame containing your title, printed out in a welcoming font such as Colonna MT, faces toward the already uncomfortable Mr and Mrs Brown, who have really just come to see if Johnny has stopped faking that hamstring injury in PE. A timer counts down and you are permanently behind as you attempt to solve the problems of adolescence in 10 minutes flat.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you view it, I have to take part in both these events.
Usually they are on separate nights.

This year someone decided we would kill two birds with one stone. Primary would do their warm, fuzzy thing upstairs in their classrooms and the Secondary team would wait nervously behind tiny islands of desks in the voluminous cavern of the PAC awaiting the inevitable 10 minute tirade on their incompetence before being reminded that God is love....All fine, except for me.

I am one of two teachers who work across the two schools. The other is a language teacher and no-one ever wants to see her (I'm sorry but it's true and it's a damn shame because she works jolly hard and does a jolly good job! But there you have it). I, on the other hand, spent the evening sprinting from one building/setting to the other on my increasingly puffy ankle (ref para 1). I blame the online parental interview booking system!!!!! In the past I could take requests for interviews and with some negotiation, group similar interviews together in short blocks of time. This year, the computers took over and parents determined the time of their interview! Can you imagine?

Chaos :-D

This is not the only chaos in my life, but it's all I can manage for now xxxx.



image credit 2

As My Ratings Plummet I Am Encouraged That Some People Love Me

I was somewhat freaked out by my recent Sitemeter statistics. In the past, my view ratings have remained fairly constant despite my flagging post numbers. Today however I noticed an unprecedented 30% drop in page views, a staggering body blow to the authorial ego. Upon checking my last post I noted that it has been 24 days since my last effort so really, I've gotta say...fair do-s guys. I actually need to lift my game.

I blame Small Boy of course. I pretty much blame him for everything nowadays. He has been back at his mum's for 5 weeks and I have noted a measurable drop in blood pressure and cursing. From me that is. Himself continues unabated.

I suppose I shouldn't be facetious. Life has been testing of late and that, I suppose, is the main reason I haven't been writing. Or taking pictures.

I did take this one the other day as I sat waiting for Al to turn up (or not) for his tutoring session.

I had warned him that he would need to go back to basics and we certainly have. I have challenged him, and his male African pride, in a biiiiiig way but I've got to say he has generally hung in there. I keep reminding him that if he did the on-line homework I set him he might progress faster; but he is a 21 year old, good looking, socially and financially pre-occupied young man and if that wasn't enough he has recently enrolled in uni! Half the time I think he would be just as happy to sit and chat as do any maths (now there's a surprise).  In the last few weeks he has cancelled once and let me down once. I sensed that he was becoming despondent as we ploughed over the same ground plus I knew he was going to be pretty fully occupied by his Uni course (he tells me it is a 'Creative Writing' course but after hearing his subjects yesterday I would say its probably some sort of Social Communications degree).

Stressed to the max by endless meetings and the in-school challenge of getting an autistic child to do anything resembling learning at all (see below*), I texted him yesterday to ask whether we were meeting. Previously I have made myself unconditionally available in an effort to reassure him that he could depend on me. This time, after a few hours of no response I suggested we could give it a miss. Just when I thought I was off the hook I got a text:
"Is everything okay?"
Of course I sucked it up and went in to meet with him.

Later when we discussed it he expressed concern for me but said " Mrs A, if you had just left it at the first text I would have been happy to have another night off. But because you sent me the second text I thought maybe you really wanted to come after all? My friend said I should just check you were ok and so I did."

My exceptionally tired brain didn't really deal with all this at the time but afterwards I thought about it and was stunned by his lack of comprehension of social cues. My first text had been clear: 'Are we meeting tonight. Don't mind if you need a break. Just let me know.'
His response to that was to think, 'oh, we aren't meeting tonight'...but no text to confirm. When I sent the second text 'I haven't heard from you but life is super crazy at the moment so if I don't hear anything from you I'll give it a miss tonight', he interpreted this as me wanting to come, rather than me trying to get off the hook!

This interests me because of the recently identified overlap between early neglect and abuse and autism. The autistic person, so much as they are able to reason, will surmise that since you said "are we meeting tonight?" and their answer was no, that you would automatically know this. Hence there is no need to text and confirm.  Now Al is definitely not autistic; a more forthcoming and people oriented person you could not find, but his early years spent in a refugee camp and his childhood of neglect and horror has definitely left a scar. In this misunderstanding he clearly exhibited some of the key signs of the disability incurred by his early childhood trauma. What concerns me is that if he makes these kind of mistakes with employers, he will have no idea why he has been sacked.

Anyway, the session was worth the effort because I think he saw some progress in himself last night. We are working at such a low level: two times tables; the relationship between fractions, decimals and percentage; word problems. Many times it is the words that trip him up. Last night he tackled some basic word problems around multiplication and division relatively confidently.
Of course when I threw in an addition and subtraction problem he was lost again but that is neither here nor there :-D  There was a brief lightbulb moment when he saw that 50/200 is the same as 25/100  and another when he was able to relate hundredths to tenths. It was one of those 'quick jump' nights when the last few have been plateaus.

At school I have had some moderate successes with an Asperger's student*; I'm going to call him Raymond. Raymond is a classic sensory seeker. He sniffs things, loves the sensation of a weighted cushion on his knees, leans into you for a cuddle and loves to have his back rubbed. If we don't do these things he lies on the floor and rolls around getting the sensation from there. He hates playdoh unless he is wearing gloves and is mortally afraid of making a mistake. Recently we have included him in a spelling group which has been an amazing blessing. Another group may have been incredibly disrupted but this little trio is phenomenally tolerant and have enabled him to feel somewhat normal by joining in with their activities. Yay!! (subdued celebration...just in case)

Finally, I sent an email out to staff a few nights ago, reminding them of a number of children in their classes with learning difficulties. I invited them to contact me if they had any problems or questions but to my surprise I got this:

1) Hi Arizaphale,

I just want to let you know that I think you are a truly remarkable woman. These emails that you regularly send out, your diligence and persistence in seeing needs met and gaps closed, and your gentle encouragement prompting teachers to keep on top of these issues, are all incredibly valuable and rare qualities that are so desperately needed.

I don’t ever want you to feel like you are not listened to, or that your work is in vain. As a mum of a child with Aspergers, and having had to witness his growing frustration and sadness in a school where he is not listened to, understood, or recognized, I felt it was important to tell you that what you are doing here is SO important. We are lucky to have you.

2) Love your work Arizaphale.   It is even helpful for Admin to have some idea – it just helps.

They are all very lucky to have you on their “team” A.

Xooxoxoxoxoxo   Bless the work of your hands abundantly! 

 

3) Thanks for all the care and  work you put into our kids Arizaphale.

We can’t always see what we reap but I think our kids lives reflect the love and consideration the Rainbow Rooms puts into these kids.

I was not expecting such a generous outpouring of thankfulness! It just served to remind me that the quiet beavering we do is actually bearing fruit. Tomorrow I have two important meetings, a transition meeting with another young African man in Year 12 and a Personal Learning Plan meeting with one of our indigenous pupils. Both are new ideas which I have not tackled previously so I am praying that I have the sensitivity and expertise to ensure that they are worthwhile and productive meetings.

Meanwhile in a frenzy bordering on ecstasy I have booked my tickets for my trip to the UK this Christmas. I cannot tell you how excited I am!!!!

Burn Baby Burn

Let me tell you about this week's emergency fire drill.

We had been warned in the morning, by our OHS officer, that there would be a drill sometime in the next few days, but he wasn't telling us when.

At around  11 am the alarm started: woop woop woop pause woop woop woop pause...

Checking my handy laminated wall chart with visual representation of the bell sounds (that's it there...blurry.....but can you see the solid red line and the broken one?)

I determined that this was the siren for a 'lockdown'.
"Quick everyone, out of sight of the door!"
The two students and the other staff member hunkered down in a corner whilst I (bravely) switched off the lights and locked the door. We settled in to wait.

The siren continued: woop woop woop pause woop woop woop pause etc etc

After a few minutes, having fielded the obligatory questions from students about whether this was real or a drill, we heard an extremely noisy and chaotic sounding class descended the stairway outside near our window. We all looked at each other.
"Are you sure this is a lockdown?" asked the other staff member. "Perhaps we should evacuate?"
"What? Right into the path of the crazed gunman?" I replied. She acknowledged that this may be unwise so we waited a little longer. We heard more noises outside, children running and squealing, quite a bit of laughter.....
"If this was a fire we would be dead," my colleague observed.
"Nonsense," quoth I,"If it were a lockdown and we'd followed those fools outside we would definitely be dead! Anyway, don't worry, if it is a fire, once they realise our names have not been ticked off the roll, they'll send someone to rescue us."

We waited.

woop woop woop pause.....

After a while the siren stopped. It was very quiet. The children looked at me.
"Everyone must be out on the oval Mrs A," whimpered one.
"OR," I postulated,"They could all be hiding under their desks very quietly like you're supposed to do during a lockdown!"
More minutes crawled past. A school bell sounded.
"There, that's the all clear," I announced, only to realise that it was merely the scheduled lunch bell.
I crawled over to the phone and tried to call Reception to find out what was going on, but they were obviously under their desks too.

Eventually we heard the sound of pupils returning to the building. My colleague looked at me and I at her: "They didn't come and rescue us!" she said.

Later in the staffroom I approached the teacher who would have had our names on her roll.
"What happened?" I demanded,"No-one came to rescue us!" She laughed heartily.
"There was such confusion," she said," I knew where you were and what must have happened. I just handed them the roll and told them you were all dead."

Thanks a LOT!!!!! :-D

********************************************************************************
It turned out that the fire brigade now has control of our bells and that they had changed the signal type. No-one had informed us so the laminated safety sheets are all WRONG! Half the school were in lockdown and the other half were careering around the oval in confusion and gales of hysterical laughter. The Principal was NOT amused and (apparently, I didn't see him as I was under a desk) stormed around shouting unintelligible announcements over the megaphone. Heads will roll!!

The classic comment of the afternoon came from a year 9 pupil who announced,
"They should have an alarm that goes FIRE FIRE FIRE FIRE and another one that goes HIDE HIDE HIDE HIDE!!"
Not so silly really.

Kid Wrangling:The Week From Hell

Monday's focus was: 'crash tackling the teacher'. Apparently he does this because he loves and and wants to keep her for himself. The nett result however is a terrified teacher, a traumatised class and an angry frustrated little boy.

Tuesday: two letters of complaint, more crash tackling and some intervention attempts which were moderately successful but required my full attention, talking the teacher through her responses. A crisis phone call to the funding authority and specialist consultants. Lots of paperwork for me, tracking events and making an 'escalation and response' timeline.

Wednesday: He doesn't come to school. A two hour 'crisis' meeting and a discovery that the funding we believed we had been given was actually about a third of the requested amount! Phone calls to arrange a meeting with mum. Mum too busy to attend. Breaking the news about the funding over the phone. Mum hanging up. Grandma phoning back to berate me. Mediation and explanation.

Thursday: Meeting with the other parents who , rightly, wanted to know what we were going to do to deal with the traumatised children who had been witnessing the aggression. Work on that problem. Mum agreeing to come in for a meeting after all. Dealing with Slugger and keeping him away from the other kids mostly. Writing an action plan.

Friday: BIG meeting with Mum and her advocate. Good meeting. Consultants in working with Slugger. Some success. Kicking at the classroom door. Slugger running his own agenda again. Break for holidays and the knowledge that we are really not equipped to deal with this young man's issues but that we have to try and we have to provide support for all the others at the same time.

Holidays.

Knee Deep in Chaos

I suppose I must be seeing other children. I am certainly turning up to the classes. I think I'm teaching some of them. My brain however, is totally on...let's call him Slugger! I'm sorry but you have to laugh, otherwise you'd cry...

The day of the observation by 'The Funding Authority' saw Slugger giving a sensational performance. He shouted at everyone, ran up and down the corridor, crash tackled the teacher and eventually had to be taken home by his mother. We got the funding.

The following day he doesn't usually come in so we had a reprieve. The next day he had a headache and so it wasn't until Friday that we got him back. I sauntered down to the classroom mid morning to see how it was going and found his Minder sitting on a chair near the door. He seemed to be sitting in the midst of an up-turned box of toys.
"So, how's it going Minder?" I enquired cheerfully. He turned a long suffering face towards me and replied," He's in the corridor behind you...."

In one of those scenes from a movie, I withdrew my head from the classroom and looked up and down the corridor.
"Errrrrrrrrrrrrr, no, I'm afraid he's not...."

Therein ensued a mild panic until Minder located him, downstairs, playing nicely in the sandpit.

I stood upstairs watching out of a window as he busily dug and built sandcastles. His Minder stood under the shade of the verandah nearby and nothing seemed to intrude on his little world.

What do you do with that?

What do you do with a 5 year old who has his own agenda and will give no quarter in its following. He was as happy as a sandboy (pardon the pun) in that sandpit.

I watched him for a while and noticed that he began to look around. Finding his Minder unresponsive (we have agreed not to make the 'out of the classroom' time too much 'fun') and seeing a year 12 student studying in the sunshine nearby, he started digging in a more and more aggressive manner, turfing the spadefuls of sand over his shoulder in a spectacular arc. I watched to see if it was a one off and whether he would stop but the arcs kept coming and their dimensions were growing. Finding my Flaming Sword suddenly in my hand (I think it is related to the Sword of Gryffindor ie it appears when it is needed) I marched downstairs and silently but purposefully took the spade and bucket away from him.
"HEY!" he bellowed, in his gravelly little voice," GIVE ME THAT BACK."
I stood my ground and eyeballed him.
"No, I'm not giving it back to you, because you weren't playing with it properly. You don't throw the sand out of the sandpit like that." As I strode away I heard him start to wail and felt the handfuls of sand he was pitching at me, brush the back of my shirt. I made my way over to his Minder under the verandah and consulted with him.
"I'm not putting up with that," I said, "that was quite deliberate."
His Minder looked uncertain. The howls of anger echoed around the playground as Slugger lay prostrate in the sandpit drumming his feet and hands.

We continued to talk quietly about our next move, all the while watching him out of the corner of our eyes. He quieted. He sat up and looked across at me accusingly. I glanced back.
"STOP LOOKING AT ME!" he bellowed.
"Stop looking at ME." I retorted, somewhat peevishly.
He sat for a little longer and then got up and walked to the box of sand toys, giving the Minder and I a large berth as he did so. He helped himself to another bucket and spade and made his way back to the sandpit, watching all the time to see how we would react.
"Let's just see what he does," I suggested.
He climbed into the sand pit and began digging again. Sensibly. Occasionally he looked up and glowered at me. I flicked him the thumb up sign.

After awhile I wandered over, ostensibly to speak to the Year 12 studying nearby. He glanced up at me again and I smiled at him.
"Well, done, you're playing really nicely now."
A brief shadow passed over his face and then....he smiled at me.

The Minder and I decided that after his 'very bad day' with the observer from the Funding Authority, we would let him have a chill out day where he could do a few calming things and get himself back on an even keel. The danger of course was that he would think this was the norm and this has proved to be a real fear. On Monday he spent most of the day taking his Minder on walks around the school. He fronted up in my room more than once and nagged the Minder into playing football with him on the tennis courts. No work was done.

On Tuesday, it was more of the same, culminating in an outburst where he thumped another child quite soundly and had to be sent home. Tonight I am writing 'social stories' about the consequences of thumping someone and ways in which we can resolve conflict without punching someone.

Wish us luck....

Who Needs the Gym? *pant pant*

I have been 'kid wrangling' again recently. Our new Mid Year reception class has another autistic boy on board. We were kind of unprepared for this one as his diagnosis came through during the holidays just before he started. Previously we had been told by an assessment team at the local General hospital that he was definitely NOT autistic. Now we have an Ed Psych report and a speech therapist's report which say he is! Whether he is or isn't ...his behaviour is keeping us on our toes.

He started 'running away' in week 2 although we quickly realised that he wanted us to chase him. Now we all ignore him when the bell goes and he doesn't come to line up. We've employed a lovely young man as his 'minder' and he sort of lurks around and shepherds him up the stairs. Once you're behind him he runs in the opposite direction, which is kind of where you want him to go :-D

Sometimes he doesn't want to be in the classroom so he kicks at the door and roars 'Get me outta this place' in his funny little deep and throaty voice. If there are any children, or adults around he has no compunction about kicking them too. Last week he punched me in the nose! (that will teach me to get down to his level! :-D) Not hard fortunately, but enough for me to tell him 'I didn't LIKE that' and put on my angry eyes!

Last Thursday was a concert in the Performing Arts Centre....an area of the school he hasn't been to before. We decided that without preparation, it was probably not a good idea for him to go with the class and were prepared to divert him to another activity but unfortunately he twigged that the class was going somewhere and he wanted to come to!!! I was busy wrangling another young man who has been following the lead of the autistic boy and throwing himself on the floor when he doesn't get his own way, so I remained in the classroom, ignoring the screaming and crying coming from the beanbags in the corner until the pile of cushions had quieted to a shuddering sniffle. A bit of TLC and a quick look at the drawings around the classroom and cushion boy was ready to go to the concert; unfortunately, the other lad had already made his way back to the classroom with his minder in tow. Apparently he had decided that he wasn't sitting in that big place without his 'shark books' to protect him. We all headed back together.

Once back in the performance space, he sat himself on the floor right at the front and spread his books around him. After a few moments he became interested in the choir in front of him, so he got up to take a look. He walked across the stage area, eyeballing everyone and everything, completely unaware that he was the centre of attention. The whole scene could have been a static display at the museum as far as he was concerned. Afterwards he collected up his shark books and proceeded to tramp up and down the stairs trying out all the spare seats in the suditorium...it was moderately amusing when we weren't trying to do anything about it (ie trying to herd him into one spot, stop him running out the door, collect him from the backstage area, follow him up and down the stairs to ensure he was safe....). Of course it was very distracting for all concerned, especially when he covered his ears and called out 'This is going to be LOUD!!' when the music started....he has sensory issues....

Eventually we got him out with suggestions that he might like to play on the playground, but he was back as soon as he realised no one else was coming; then the whole performance repeated itself. The Principal, who was in attendance at the concert, rolled his eyes at me as we left and said "That was very enlightening!". I guess he realises what we are trying to deal with now.

We had been funding the special 'minder' from a Government grant given to the family until the Government told us it wasn't for use in schools (grrrrr). Today we have an observer from the funding body coming in to observe him to see if they will give us some emergency funding to keep the 'minder' in place. We intend to take the minder out of the classroom and let the observer see what the teacher has to deal with. The teacher is terrified. I'll let you know how it goes.....

Keeping Myself Amused

In a constant state of worry over my teen and my inability to write about it lest it be viewed and my penchant for broadcast exposed, I have resorted to funny photos.
This is Pippin, about to take out someone's eye over the complete and utter humiliation involved in being a boy cat in a girl's bedroom. If you look closely at his upper lip you can see the slight scar on the right which is where he keeps getting his lip caught on his lower tooth. I must try and get a picture; it is terrifying to behold (and kind of funny). This next shot is my all time favourite anniversary card. I couldn't actually give it to anybody, but it just cracks me up looking at it!

But the best bit is inside.... bwahahahahahahaha!

Oh well, at least I am still laughing.

I have been sewing for a the school dance troupe too but I will keep that photo until Tuesday so I can finally participate in Crafty Tuesday again. Today I'm off to help Bestie paint a wall as her back does not permit her to do such things anymore.

Yesterday I met a 12 year old autistic boy who may be coming to our school next year. He was hilarious! Active, high maintenance, but such a delight. He greeted me by my first name as he could read it off my badge and then greeted the Principal the same way! It was hysterical. He informed me that many people read names off badges, that's why people wear them. The Principal kindly informed him that 'Mr T' would be more appropriate.

In the end I had to take him on a 'tour' around the school so the principal could get the parents alone to talk. There was no way he wasn't going to be involved in any discussions! As we toured the school he became more and more excited by all the facilities. His hands flapped, he bent over and straightened up again, he jumped up and down with whoops of delight. When I opened the door to the gym he raced across the empty floor like a young calf loosed from the race at a rodeo. He stopped halfway across and turned back to me with an ear to ear grin.
"I really like this school!" he beamed.

He did have a penchant for sticking his face right up against the windows of the classrooms we passed but he jumped back suddenly as he realised the children within were staring at him.
"They're all looking at me," he said with some alarm.
"Well, they're just surprised to see you," I explained.
"They looked very surprised," he said with mild concern, "I could see by their faces they were surprised."
"Well, they don't usually have people looking at them through the windows and they don't know you."
I could see him processing this.
Wait, they could see me too?
For the autistic mind there is only his point of view. It had not occurred to him as he observed the classes that they could observe him right back! I loved watching him take on this new understanding and modify his behaviour accordingly. I don't know if he will come to our school, but I think he would be an amazing blessing to the community. He was so joyful and enthusiastic. There's nothing like an autistic person to teach you about yourself.

My New Life As A Non Maths Teacher

So people have been asking 'how is the new job going?' I guess it's a little early to tell but I gotta say from where I'm sitting now...I'm loving it.

I'm working 4 days and deliberately taking a whole day off, unlike my previous job where I was 4 days scattered over 5 and staying way over the 5 on most weeks anyway. I am the Special Education Co-ordinator from Reception (Kindergarten) to Year 12 and I have two amazingly talented SSOs (School Support Officers) working under me. I used to work at this school 5 years ago, before Himself, before marriage and step children, and I loved it then too. The Baby Angel went to this school before she made the move to my Alma Mater and had a wonderful time there; although not quite so wonderful on the academic front ....due mainly to her having....a wonderful time!!! :-D.

Previously, I worked mainly in the Primary section of the school; this covers children from 5 years of age to approximately 11 years. I had also taken a small group of rowdy boys in Year 8 for three lessons a week in what was called 'Additional English'. This subject was offered instead of a language to those pupils with diagnosed disabilities or learning difficulties and was used variously for spelling and grammar consolidation, the development of writing skills and curriculum support in areas such as maths, science and SOSE . At one point, in response to the protestations of the 'rowdy group of boys', who said they didn't need to learn spelling and reading as they were going to work in the hospitality industry, we planned and ran a cafe for staff in the school hall. This was a 'laugh a minute' exercise and resulted in most of them deciding they were never working hospitality again! :-D Well, at least I taught them something.
The Additional English group worked so well that it has been developed in the time I have been away to include Years 7, 8 and 9. As well as my co-ordination role, I take 8 lessons of Add English a week in the Middle School.

The final part of the job is developing the pathway for students with disabilities as they progress through into Senior School. With the advent of the New SACE, most pupils with disabilities should be able to complete 12 years of education in a mainstream school at their own level. The SACE is, in effect, an attendance certificate but be that as it may, schools are being called to respond to this challenge and provide inclusive education for all, way past the point at which they would have done in the past.

So last Monday the kids came back.
I had been given a run down on the main 'pupils with issues' by my predecessor who has moved to another area of the school to focus on Gifted and Talented education. Now, I distinctly remember her saying "Don't worry about Albus until week 5. His mum takes him in isolation as he's too violent to be allowed in the classroom. He has 'oppositional defiant disorder'.

Me: *gulp* And how old is he?
Predecessor: Oh he's six.

Six. And too violent to be allowed in a classroom. This was going to be an interesting one in 5 weeks time.

Guess who was sitting in my classroom drawing a picture of a 'potion' at 8am on the first Monday back?

It was a particularly good picture of a potion complete with red and black stripes, bubbles and a testube like container. Albus looked me in the eye,
"I'm waiting for my mum. She's talking to the Principal."
"Really?"
"Yes. She's got to go to work."
So much for working in isolation until week 5.

And that's how I came to spend a whole day with Albus, who was still too violent to be allowed back in the classroom, but apparently not violent enough to be a threat to the Angel with the Flaming Sword.
"Do you want a knuckle sandwich?" he asked me volubly a few hours later as I insisted he complete a task before playing with Lego and after I had walked him hand over hand to the rubbish bin to dispose of the pieces of ripped up paper which were all that remained of a worksheet I had been helping him with.
"I don't think so," I replied,"but I'll let you know if I change my mind."

The next day Albus's mum decided to take him back to the public system where he will be expelled within 5 minutes and then be eligible for the intensive behaviour unit. We simply didn't have the funding to go through the one on one process of re-establishing boundaries and re-introducing him to the classroom. A shame really. I had a wonderful day with him.

Of course, today the seemingly angelic Year 8 and 9s of last week have started to grow horns so I guess I will have plenty of Flaming Sword work to do as it is. Better get on with it.

















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