I didn't have a choice this time. It was a state-mandated training for APA (alternate proficiency assessment) for all of the NJ special ed teachers who serve "the most significantly cognitively disabled students." I qualified! I have to admit, it was kind of exciting to think about a day of watching powerpoints and playing on my iPhone. I was also excited at the prospect of leaving the training right when it ended and heading home. It's always a hard thing to leave on time when I am at school. I sat through the morning portion of the training. I was not excited to find out that the training actually consisted of someone clicking "play" on various powerpoints on a computer screen: my overachiever self already downloaded all of the powerpoints and watched them this weekend. Any time someone had a question about something, I would say, "Oh, they tell you in the next slide!" Haha. Maybe that's why I have trouble making teacher friends. The administrator loved me, though!
"Sarah, would you please come see me?" I wondered what I had done to deserve the personal invitation to the front of the Board of Ed office. I walked up front to a very frazzled special ed coordinator. She said, "There has been an 'incident' at school. Would you be willing to leave the training to return to school?" Hmm. An incident? What kind of incident could it be? She told me that one of my students had bit someone and that "nobody knew what to do." This is coming from an administration that has never dealt with children with autism. But, with all of the hullabaloo I figured it must be pretty serious. I gathered my things, just as you do when you get sent to the principal's office in secondary school. I headed out of the district office. It was a great three hours while it lasted!
My boys were doing a puzzle on the ground. One of them said, "Mrs. Smith, we missed you!" I told him, "I knew you missed me, so I decided to come back today!" He grinned from ear to ear. Meanwhile, my "biter" was separated from the group, on a mat, playfully looking at her favorite magazine, Modern Bride, while four adults hovered around her. Honestly, kids with autism bite. If you couldn't talk and tell me what was frustrating you, don't you think you'd bite me? I can only imagine how frustrating it would be to live in a life of silence. People automatically think that kids with autism are crazy because they resort to these types of behaviors. This is definitely not the case. Not being able to communicate would be tough.
My assistant told me that the principal came in the room and said, "I want to see her in my office. Right now. She needs to explain exactly what happened this morning." I thought to myself, man, if my non-verbal student could explain exactly what happened, I think we'd be in business!
My boys were a little frazzled from all of the hustle and bustle in the classroom. They weren't quite sure what to make of their broken routine and the extra chaotic adults. They pick up on attitudes and they definitely knew something was wrong. One boy said, "I want to go home. Something is wrong, I need to go home." I told him it was alright. He has NEVER said this before. I mean, who wants to go home from Mrs. Smith's class?
In the end, everyone calmed down and I tried to assure everyone it would be okay. This kind of thing happens. No need to call the police, have five adults in the room, seek additional placements, etc. The whole "biting" thing definitely didn't help our cause for trying to "fit in" to the school. But that's okay. We're different, we know it, and we embrace it. I still love them just the same!
We still achieved success today. We did a little impromptu autism awareness training for those who needed it. And hey, let's look on the bright side. Tomorrow is baking soda and vinegar volcano day in science.
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