Looking Forward

Last week I felt anxious and my heart kept racing. I realized it was because of the feeling and reports of uncertainty in the news and on social media. So, I turned it off and focused on planning my day. Within two days I felt more in control and ready to make plans for a whole week.

I am lucky, this feeling only lasted a few days for me. Uncertainty is common for parents, sneaking up at unexpected moments. For parents of students with disabilities, uncertainty can become overwhelming. The IEP process asks parents what their long- and short-term goals are for their child. They are asked about the best strategies, reinforcers, and goal ideas.

How can a parent be expected to see into the future? The future is the only thing a person can change. We can not change the past.

Looking forward one can see possibilities rather than regrets, doubts, or ghosts of the past. Taking a step forward is scary, but a start. Sometimes we do not see the destination, but we can see the path we are on.

In the moments of uncertainty, I hope you can lift your head, look forward, and take a step. And for those on a path that is not serving them, choose a new track.

Modifications

Modifications are critical and essential for some students.

A modification reduces the depth, breadth, and/or complexity of a task or lesson.

Modifications are determined by the IEP team to ensure the student has access to the instruction.

Modifications are only used as a last resort.

But what are they???

Defining modifications is challenging because they are not a “thing” that can be held, but rather, a process for evaluating a lesson, determining essential learning objectives, providing targeted activities, and assessing for learning.

Still confused?

Let’s talk about what they aren’t. Modifications are not prepackaged products, worksheets, a set of curricular materials, or different tests. Modifications cannot be bundled up and put in a box.

Modifications are systematic decisions. Decisions about what to teach, what vocabulary to use, the amount of guided or modeled instruction versus independent practice, determining what the objective is for the moment, the day, the week or the unit, and analyzing the student’s interaction and engagement with the learning to determine if they met the modified expectation.

So, let’s try defining it again.

Modifications are systematic, individualized, instructional targets specifically designed for students who cannot access, participate, and/or demonstrate their learning without them.

Pick Me!

I was not the most athletic child. I could run and play, but I wasn’t the fastest, strongest, or best at anything athletic. In P.E. I never made it even halfway up the rope to the bell and was never a contender for a President’s Fitness Award (some of you are now guessing my age). None of that bothered me.

But organized recess games and the dodgeball games in P.E. did, not because of the activity, but because of the first few minutes when two captains would be chosen and then, one-by-one, select members for their team. I would stand there praying, please, oh please, this one time, please pick me. Typically, I was last or next to the last selection despite my internal pleas.

Not being chosen had me convinced “I am not good at sports.” It wasn’t until high school that I realized the lie I had believed. I am good at sports I want to play. Not competitor-level good, but good enough to have fun and secure a spot on the school lacrosse team.

I think about this as I watch students look at a book and think, “I am not good at reading.” Or when they enter a cafeteria, and you can see them thinking “I am not good enough to be their friend.”

Sometimes this message was an unintended consequence of a teacher or adult trying to protect a student by not having them read aloud when other students did, or not sharing their math problem solution, but letting their tablemate do so. In our effort to protect students from failure, we may be, quite accidentally, leaving them in their seats praying silently, please, pick me.

Then there is the converse when we assign a student with a disability a buddy or friend. Hear me out, I think the social group programs that pair up students with and without disabilities are great. But, I think we need to remember that our friends weren’t chosen for us, we chose them. Sometimes the person we want to be friends with doesn’t want to be our friend, and that is okay. It is a part of life. Sometimes we were introduced to someone because a third person thought we had “so much in common.” And that is great too. But in each of those scenarios, we have a choice to stay or go. Students with disabilities need that same choice, and sometimes, they will choose someone who doesn’t want to be their friend. Okay, let’s teach them how to accept that, and then introduce to other peers who have similar interests.

I wonder, if I had been the first choice, or even a choice halfway through picking the teams, would I have tried out for more school athletic teams? Would I have started running and working out younger? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe sprits isn’t my thing, But, I do know, that every child should know there is someone who sees their value, and says the three magical words, “I pick you.”

The Inclusion Myth

Inclusion is one of two words I would like to see no longer used.

Okay, some of you now quit reading and others are curious enough to hear me out.

The definition of “inclusion” requires two groups of people. One is the majority group or the one that represents the goal. Another group is seeking to join the majority group. Said another way, there is one group with the power to allow or deny admittance of another group. Note, permission to be admitted doesn’t mean you become an equal member or are even guaranteed the opportunity to participate in all the activities or conversations.

I don’t want students with disabilities to be granted permission to go to general education, I want them to belong as a member of the learning community.

Seeking inclusion is less than belonging. This is not a new idea but one that Dr. Erik Carter at the Baylor Center for Developmental Disabilities has explored for many years along with several other researchers within the faith community and education.

The drive for inclusion accidentally said that those without disabilities get to decide if students with disabilities are welcome in their educational space. That is a myth. Students with disabilities are students, and all students are welcome in public schools. The rules don’t say that one group gets to make the rules while the other group must wait for permission. One group isn’t “students” and the other “guests”. No, our public education rules calls them all “students.”

So you see, I want a single student body of learners whose needs are met by the incredible groups of educators who work in our public schools. The problem is, I don’t know what to call this model. I dream of a day when we don’t need to find a word because all learners belong. I hope to help make that dream happen. When we do, our communities will be stronger because everyone will contribute by paying taxes, working in the community, and creating meaningful relationships with neighbors and friends.

In short, we will all belong.

Fortune Telling

I have wanted to be a special education teacher since age three. I didn’t realize that this was unusual until high school. I thought everyone just “knew” what they would be when they grew up. It wasn’t until I watched my classmates struggle to decide where to go to college that I realized I was different.

Then, in college, I had friends struggling to declare a major, and again when changing majors while trying to graduate on time. My journey was so clear to me. Yet, I did wonder, why didn’t I have doubts? Why didn’t I have more interests? The truth is, I believe that God had led me to the career that fills my soul but also fills my desire to continue to learn and grow. I am a teacher.

Politics and social media have changed what it means to say, “I am a teacher.”

But nothing can change the incredible experience of being a teacher.

As a special educator, I support students in their journey to adulthood. I get to help them navigate friendships, learn new skills, and discover their gifts and passions. All of this leads to the greatest of decisions, what do you want to be when you grow up?

The Individuals with Disabilities Education Act, (IDEA), requires a transition plan complete with career goals by age 16. Many states, realizing the challenges of successful transitions to adulthood, have required transition planning beginning at age 14.

Age 14 allows for a focus on adulthood, often beginning in middle school, and throughout the entire high school career. The belief is, with good planning the student will know what their goals are and then do the work to achieve them. However, the reality is, they don’t usually know what they want to do. It is rare that a student has a clear vision for their life—I know, I was an exception.

Purposeful planning for the discovery of a career is the true test of a transition plan. Does it leave room for change? IF the student, like their peers, changes their mind about what they like or want to do, can the plan shift with them? How do we plan, but still allow natural adolescence?

I fear that parents feel pressured to become fortune tellers, looking into their crystal ball to see what career will fit their child’s gifts, passions, and dreams. But, like the fortune tellers at a fair, the vision they see is only the image of what may be, not what it is.

If we can see one vision, why are we afraid to see a different one? If we saw the students as a worker in a local restaurant, why not see them as the manager in a local firm? Why are we limiting ourselves to our visions? Life is far more interesting than a single vision. We should encourage trying out a variety of careers and options. Often, the joy is in the journey, not just the destination.

Similarly, when a student has a clear vision for their future, we need to foster it. As teachers, we can help them create a concrete plan to achieve their dream. After all, While I was different from my peers, I was not unique. There are others with a clear plan for their future, and, like me, it is a career that fills their mind and soul. We can all work together to help them step into their dream.

Teach the Future

It feels like every day I am hearing or reading a new story about the use of AI (artificial intelligence) in everyday life. For example, as I write this blog, a series of gray words show up as Word predicts my next word, phrase, or sentence. I can understand the hesitation to embrace new technology, but I also appreciate the benefits. I have never been a strong speller and auto-correct has created more problems than it has helped. However, as technology gets “smarter” it is better able to support my weaknesses and increase the strength of my writing.

Our youth have had the benefit of the squiggly lines that appear when a word is misspelled or the grammar is incorrect and with a few clicks, they receive options to correct their writing. I can hear the arguments, that they need to learn to spell rather than relying on technology. But do they? What will their life look like as an adult?

My school was progressive and we had a computer lab that was built when I was in 4th grade. If the teacher had told me that one day I would carry a better, faster, more powerful computer in my purse, I would have thought he was crazy. Yet, that is something the majority of us do daily. I actually have two small computers, referred to as cell phones, in my bag on work days; a personal one and a work one.

The speed with which the world is changing is very apparent in technology, but change is happening in a million small ways all the time. The challenge for our teachers is to teach a student for the tomorrow that we can’t envision today.

Students with disabilities need us to teach them to use the most advanced technology and tools. While the specific tool may be extinct by the time they graduate, there are similarities across next-generation technology that help us all learn the new system. However, if we relegate students with disabilities to the older, “tired and true” technology or to technology that doesn’t have internet access because it reduces distraction, then we depriving them of the skills and exposure to tools necessary to thrive as an adult.

How do I know they won’t learn the skills later? Reflect on the skills of your grandparents and their understanding of the internet, online calls, and social media. My grandmother couldn’t understand how to use the cell phone. A wireless phone was the modern technology of her time. And, learning to use a computer was too complicated because she didn’t have any prior experience to lean into.

Students have started a new school year and there are a lot of projects, units of study, and group projects ahead. I encourage teachers and parents to think about how to engage their students in the content using current technology including AI. For instance, can the student ask AI to change the reading level of an online book? Or create a summary of a book written at a reading level that matches the student’s skill? Can they ask AI about a topic and then verify the accuracy using internet searches and online resources? Can a student draw a complicated picture to represent a scientific concept by describing what they want to AI? These ideas and more will support inclusionary learning while preparing the student for a rich and successful adulthood.

The Struggle Is Real

My first car was a red Toyota Tercel hatchback with a manual transmission. I was excited to have a new car that was all my own after driving the family station wagon until it no longer ran. I wanted a manual transmission because it was 1) cheaper and 2) I was going to college and did not want to get stranded in an uncomfortable situation simply because I couldn’t drive the car.

My parent’s generous gift was purchased in the days when you picked out the features, color, etc., and then, waited for its arrival at the dealership. My car was available the same day my parents were leaving town for a trip. They picked up the car, parked in the driveway, and left.

You are probably predicting a story of the joys and adventures I had that weekend in my new car. But I didn’t know how to drive it. You see, I understood the mechanics of a manual transmission, but I had not driven one. So instead, I spent the weekend sitting in my car in the driveway.

When my parents arrived home, I was so excited to learn. My mom drove me to a quiet side road on a hill not too far away from our home. She stopped the car halfway up the hill, got out of the driver seat, and handed me the keys.

There is almost no more difficult challenge with a manual transmission than a hill. I stalled. Took a deep breath. Stalled again. Thought it through. Stalled. Swore. Stalled. Swore again. Stalled. Threatened to quit. Lurched forward…and stalled. That afternoon I stalled, swore, cried, stalled, yelled, swore, cried, stalled, and lurched until suddenly, I drove forward. Surprised, I yanked my foot off the gas and stalled again. I tried again with success. Slowly but surely, I learned how to drive a manual transmission. I made it to the top of that hill. By the time we got home, I was in the groove.

That afternoon is etched in my memory. Not just because I struggled, A LOT. But because I did it! I figured out how to drive a manual transmission and even began enjoying the nuances of being in control of the gear. I still have a manual transmission today even though they are 1) not available on many makes or models of cars and 2) no longer cheaper.

Struggle leads to victory. Without struggle, everything is well, just fine. Said another way, adequate.

I don’t want an adequate life. I want an amazing life. So do our students with complex needs. We need to allow for difficult, genuine struggle.

This is not to say teaching strategies like errorless teaching or behavior techniques are not important. They have their place and offer a path forward for some skills and moments. However, students are not one-note, one-strategy solves all humans. They need a variety of skills taught in a variety of ways to maximize outcomes. We need to include productive struggle in their education.

Productive struggle is about carefully crafting an assignment or learning experience so the student has the tools and skills necessary to struggle through, try, fail, try again, and ultimately, learn.

The value of learning to struggle through something difficult cannot be fully quantified, but it is one of the keys to becoming resilient. Furthermore, learning to fail and then try again prepares the student for real life, where there isn’t a paraprofessional, teacher, or parent standing by to “do it for you.”

As we enter into a new school year, I encourage us to reflect on opportunities to struggle. Art projects do not need to be perfect. Writing a word with incorrect spelling doesn’t ruin the message. Re-reading a passage is not a weakness. Giving the wrong answer in a discussion is not fatal. They are all opportunities to learn, do better next time, and try something more challenging.

Theodore Roosevelt said it best: “It is hard to fail, but it is worse never to have tried to succeed.”

A New School Year

My social media accounts are showing signs of school starting with pictures of new backpacks, wish lists for our amazing teachers, and first day of school photos capturing the special moment.

Similar to these posts, I love the start of a new school year. As a child, it meant a new teacher, a classroom, and a carefully selected back-to-school outfit. I loved selecting my new box of crayons, markers, and pens, and looked forward to covering my books. (For those who are younger than I am, we were required to cover our textbooks with a carefully origami-folded paper grocery bag.)

Not everyone is excited. For some students school is hard. The work is hard. Making friends is hard. Learning to advocate for yourself is hard. Following directions and sitting for long periods of time is hard. And these are only a few of the reasons.

Students with disabilities have support to start the school year off well, but there are no guarantees. Parents have carefully planned for the future at IEP meetings. Yet, despite this planning and preparation, things may happen. There is no way to avoid the, well…unavoidable, surprise. Things may not go as planned. There may be services or supports not in place as everyone works through scheduling.

While everything may not go as planned. But…that means it is possible that things could go better than planned. Sometimes the greatest gifts are the unexpected ones. Days that I had an adult out sick or there was a sudden and unplanned schedule change could be stressful, but often I was surprised with good news. The student whose para was out demonstrated they were ready to be more independent. The schedule change showed me  a better alternative to the one we were attached to as “routine.”

The same is true when there was a staffing change. I like knowing the collaborating teacher ahead of time, but often, the “new” teacher was exactly the person needed at that time.

As students begin a year of unknowns, I try to look at the good surprises rather than fear the ones I can not control. After all, you tend to find what you look for in life.

Expressions of Emotion

Like so many others worldwide, I am watching the Olympics. I have been brought to tears as I watch an individual achieve their lifelong dream, and tears as I watch years of work reduced to a single moment of loss. I am awed by the beauty of the horses competing in the equestrian events, and stunned by the strength within a single human’s body. I cheer as though the athletes are friends or family members. And, hold my breath in each of the moments that decide whether the athlete will be on a podium or not.

I am overcome with

  • awe,
  • joy,
  • exuberance,
  • grief,
  • pride,
  • humility,
  • respect,
  • fear,
  • agony, and
  • elation
  • and so, so much more.

Sometimes I feel these emotions separately, and I can name them. At other times, I feel them all at once as a muddle from my heart to the tips of my fingers.

I know I am not alone. It is this “Olympic experience” that calls us all to watch the sports we love and those we have never seen before.

I can share my experience with others, primarily because I have a communication system that is sophisticated enough to allow for a myriad of emotions, far exceeding happy, mad, or sad. But, for individuals who do not have a communication system that enables them to sufficiently communicate with others, the Olympics highlight one more way they are not a connected and valued member of the community. Yes, most of us, regardless of our communication skills can cheer, smile, or cry. But can they tell you they are crying tears of shared joy for the person’s victory? Or that the tears are because the competition is over and the adrenaline of watching has brought them to an emotional apex? Or that they are sad for the person who placed 4th, going home with no medal even though they worked as hard as the person wearing gold?

No. They don’t have a sufficient communication system.

Instead, they are relegated to our guessing and waiting for them to indicate if we guessed right or wrong. Often resigning themselves to not be understood, but instead, left with an interpretation of their feelings, beliefs, or desires based on our perspective, not theirs.

Communication is how we connect and share our experiences, and our hearts. Every member of our community needs to have an effective communication system to share what is in their heart, mind, and body. Until that happens, we are all deprived.

Hidden in Plain Sight

People with disabilities comprise about 29% of the United States population. Yet, if I were to reflect on my experiences of the past month, I have only seen a person with a visible disability 3 times. Keep in mind that I have visited large, ticketed events, restaurants, bars, malls, stores, and grocery stores. Where are the people with disabilities?

While it is true that there are many disabilities we cannot see, there is a large number of people with visible disabilities who simply aren’t represented equitability in my community. In the past (although not a distant enough past) individuals with significant disabilities were sent to institutions. But we know better. Yet, when was the last time you saw a child with a disability playing at the local park or on a splash pad? When did you last see an adolescent with disabilities at an arcade or youth sports? When was the last time you sat at a bar and saw a person with a disability sharing a drink with a friend?

As a child, I remember concentrating on the faces of children missing printed on milk cartons so I could identify them when I saw them. I never saw one of those children, and I feel much the same today as I look around me for representatives of my entire community, not just those with no disability or invisible disabilities. 

To be honest, I also hate the phrase “invisible disability,” because it isn’t invisible to the person or those who love them. I wish I had better language and welcome suggestions to help me articulate clearly my desire to empower all people. 

I do know that we no longer hide people away in an institution. But I also know we aren’t fully welcoming of all people and differences. I hope that in a small way, bringing to light who is missing will start a small ripple of change. The next time you are out, will you notice who is there but also who isn’t? Will you start to look for the members of our community with disabilities and opportunities to engage them as equals in your community? Will you advocate for accessible opportunities? 

I hope so. 

And to the self-advocates and their families, I offer you an opportunity to share how I can support you, welcome you, and empower you.