For you, Mr. Brock

Out of my 22 years of teaching, 16 of those years have been spent teaching students with special needs.  But, I can tell you ALL children (and adults) have special needs.  Some just have more needs than others.  And let me remind you that all of this came about because of a paper mache' donkey!  Prior to teaching, I was a pretty normal person, but spending six hours a day with students who are acting a little "strangely" causes one to allow their own "strangeness" to surface.  One of the skills I found floating to my surface was that of being very honest.  Some people call it being blunt, confrontational, saying it like it is, outspoken, etc.  But, the bottom line is...when you teach kids with special needs, you always know where they stand.  You know what they are thinking all the time and nobody is playing head games with you.  They don't take hints.

For example,  you could stand in front of a group of high school students who have a normal IQ and say, "Wow, someone in here smells really bad."  The response?  Every single one of them would go home and shower and make sure they smelled really good the next morning.  You could stand in front of a group of high school students who are considered special needs and say the same thing.  The response?  Every single one of them would think, 'yeah, my friends around me DO smell really bad' never thinking for a moment that it might be them.  So, I learned to say it to their face,  "You do not smell too good.  You need to take a shower and wash under your arms with soap and water.  Then you need to dry off under your arms with a towel.  THEN you need to put deoderant on under your arms before you put on some clean clothes."  Later in my teaching years, onlookers would think I was being rude, but as a student myself in my very first classroom, I was learning honesty.  Because face it, after I had accepted my "six week assignment"  I really was signing up to be the student and my 11 students labled Severely Mentally Handicapped were MY teachers.

As Joan had told me on that first day of school, we were to meet our students as they stepped off the bus starting the next day.  I arrived early the next day, setting out the pegboards and pegs again.  Joan came right before the buses were to arrive and directed me to the cafeteria where we would sit and wait for our  unique angels.  My thoughts wandered as we waited.  Maybe today I would just focus on Daryl making a circle.  I needed to get a plan for two reasons.  Not only did we need it to survive in our classroom, but I had to turn lesson plans into our principal, Mr. Brock, in two days.  I definitely needed to get a plan. 

Mr. Brock did not strike me as the type of principal that allowed a lot of "leeway" when it came to his expectations.  He seemed to like things his way or no way.  He had made this quite clear at the orientation I had attended.  I don't think he smiled once and his expectations were laid out in the sincerest format of a drill sargent.  Lesson plans due the Friday before the next week.  NO EXCEPTIONS!  Considering I was a sub and had NEVER written a lesson plan, taught, or even dreamed of teaching before, I thought it would have been gracious for him to give me, say, a weekend?  But it was not to be.

"Lona, look!"  Joan was bringing Daryl into the cafeteria.  He sat beside me and I greeted him. 
"Hey Daryl, how are ya?"  I asked, shaking his limp hand. 
"Lona, look," he pointed to Eric coming toward the table.  Eric sat next to me.  "BB King.  Stevie Wonder." he said, eyes half shut.  "Did you listen to BB King last night Eric?" I asked him.  His eyes flew open.  "Mom, mom, mom said 'dance'"  He sucked in his breath and made a clicking sound with his tongue.  I smiled at him.  "Did you dance?" I asked him, putting my arm around his shoulder.  He leaned into me and I could smell the hair gel on his slicked back hair.  "Yes." he answered.

Just then, Mr. Brock strolled down the aisle along the tables.  "Mr. Brock, Mr. Brock!" called Eric.  Mr. Brock stopped and studied Eric, nodded his head stoically at Eric and started walking on.  "F-F-Fuck You! Mr. Brock" said Eric, following his words with hysterical laughter.   I just sat there, stunned.  Mr. Brock walked back to our table, studying Eric.  "C'mon, Eric" he said holding out his hand.  Eric started crying, took his hand and went off with Mr. Brock.   "Godammit Joe, don't you cuss at school today"  Joe had arrived.  Within a half hour the other students had arrived and we made our way down the hall to our classroom.  I had decided to start our morning off with some Hap Palmer music which required getting in a circle.  We did the best we could and I realized at this point--nothing we did was going to be easy.  In the middle of our music time, there was a knock at the door.  It was Mr. Brock with Eric.  Eric immediately ran into the room to Joan, putting his arms around her as he cried.  I stepped into the hall with Mr. Brock.  "He won't do that again," he said smugly.  "I gave him a swat with the paddle.You have to let these kids know who's boss!"  "Oh." was all I said.

The day passed quickly and I found myself energized with each hour.  I worked late on lesson plans and came up with what I felt was a schedule we could live with,concentrating on routine and consistency, setting aside some time to work on specific goals. 

The next morning, Joan and I once again went to greet the kids as they got off the bus.  Once again, Eric came and sat close to me.  We repeated our discussion about BB King and Stevie Wonder.  Once again Mr. Brock strolled down the aisle along the tables.  "Mr. Brock, Mr. Brock!" called Eric once again.  Mr. Brock again stopped and studied Eric, nodded his head stoically at him and started walking on.  "F-F-Fuck You! Mr. Brock" said Eric, once again following his words with hysterical laughter.   I just sat there, stunned again.  Mr. Brock turned and walked to his office.

...like I said, you always know where they stand!