special ed. 16 ring circus

Yesterday I got to spend the afternoon in G's classroom.  I was thrilled to have the opportunity, having spent many hours wondering what he does at school, if he has friends in his class, how the other kids behave, why he comes home wanting to push people, if he ever actually tries to write his name before giving up with a sullen frown like he does at home.  (The whole list is actually quite a bit longer, but I think I'd better stop here.)

The teacher was home sick so the two aides and the speech therapist were trying valiantly to tame the herd of wild things teach the class.  So I offered to stay and they seemed quite happy to accept.  I was eager for a view of what goes on there and to get to know the kids a tiny bit, since up to this point the No Parents In the Classroom rule has been quite unwavering.  There are sixteen kids in the class and it's just too many for three adults to handle.  Especially because there are a good four or five with behavioral issues like intentional disruption, intimidating other kids, horribly foul language by choice (an imitation of what goes on at home, I'm guessing).  In my opinion two of the kids should have a full time aide assigned just to them to keep them on track and give them the positive attention  and redirection/supervision they need to participate, learn and not disrupt the class by yelling, jumping, screaming, running, throwing things and bullying the rest of the kids.  I came home and told my husband that there was circle time, playdough time, general mayhem free play time, throwing fruit loops and dumping water on others and the floor snack time and finally wrestling and tackle tag playing outside. During the general mayhem half hour, there was jumping on tables and chasing and hitting games going on as well as a whole lot of screaming.  It was happy screaming, but brought to mind an eagle dying.  Also, general mayhem time was when the speech therapist worked with individual kids. No wonder they have trouble understanding where G is at.  I don't know how they hear anything he says.

No wonder he comes home and punches his sister, pushes her, hits me, makes angry intimidating faces to try and get his way.  I'm just baffled he hasn't started saying several four-letter words I heard at least 20 times from the other boys yesterday.

I wish my boy could be in a place more suited to him, his needs, his abilities.  I wish every one of those kids had enough attention and care at school and at home.  I guess that is what those teachers and aides deal with every day.  The quiet kids don't get enough attention to succeed and the loud and badly behaved kids don't get enough attention to figure out how to settle down and direct their feelings and energy in better ways.  There was one little girl there who is having trouble at home and had a frown plastered across her little face for the entire three hours, except the twenty minutes she was playing with the plastic food and kitchen, happily serving up donuts and green peppers with ketchup.  It made me sad for her, and happy for my G.  Happy that he comes home to a completely human but loving and interested mom and dad and sister.

I am appalled by what those teachers and aides aren't able to do for the kids.  Not by their own fault but through lack of support from the school.  It's crazy that we don't take better care of resources, for everyone's sake.  I will make suggestions, and offer to help and ask questions and whatever else I can do.  And I will offer to bring a big donation of clothes that we've outgrown for those poor kids who dirty themselves at school and don't have any clean clothes from home in their cubby.  But I won't fight the school.  It's not worth it, fighting for what my kid needs and making those who make decisions even less inclined to help the teachers and the kids.  I will find another place where they want to and can work with me to make things better, to make things work.  I want to find a place where providing what my kid and other kids need is not a fight, but a happy partnership with available resources.  I will look for the right place instead of fighting the wrong one.  But if (I hope it's when) G does leave the school he's at this year, I know I will think of the other kids and the teachers, who are trying their best and dream of better places for them too.