Author: aagauld

Oxygen

School is starting. It is a time of anticipation and excitement with a touch of anxiety and trepidation.

One of the best things about school is that there is a new start every year. As an adult, I miss the feeling of a “fresh start” that comes at the beginning of every year. There is a gift that comes with the excitement of starting something. As I meet teachers getting ready for a new year, I am struck by the energy they each emit. It is as though they are lit from within.

That bright light attracts their students to them like a moth to a flame. The light points and directs the learning as a lighthouse directs a seacraft through a difficult reef.

But I have also seen the effects of political pressure, negative press, parental stress, and tireless work. The light we see at this time of year will begin to dim, and flicker, and in some devastating moments, it will be extinguished.

When there is no light, there is nothing to illuminate, direct, and energize learning.

Teachers don’t want their light to fade. But as they worked on behalf of their students, they forgot to fuel themselves. Teachers need to stop and ensure they feed oxygen to their internal flame. For some, oxygen comes from daily exercise. For others, it is an opportunity to learn. And for others, it is time with friends and loved ones. No matter how they fill their energy, they need to ensure it happens regularly and often, or the flame suffocates and eventually burns out.

Another way to think about this is the image of the flight attendant telling you that in an emergency, you need to grab the oxygen mask and put it firmly on your face.

Our teachers need oxygen masks, firmly in place, to maintain the energy and excitement of the new year each school day for the next 36-40 weeks.

The same is true for students. What fills up the students’ oxygen tank to feed the flame inside them? How do we keep students glowing with energy and excitement?

Point of View

Ability, disability, accessibility, and barriers are key talking points when creating an IEP. Yet, these are also highly subjective and personal.

I really struggle with spelling. Vowels confuse me. Letters change the sound they make depending on what is before and after them in the word. Then we have the various language influences, resulting in words that are spelled similarly but pronounced entirely differently. My teachers and parents tried to help, teaching me rules like “-i before -e except after -c.” Did you know that is only a part of that rule? I didn’t, until I was in my teacher prep program in college. The whole rule is “-I before -e except after -c or when it sounds like A as in neighbors and weigh.” How can I be expected to think through all of the nuances of the rule, apply it, and still get the consonant correct? In general, it doesn’t matter because the computer helps me. It underlines every misspelled word, gives me suggested spellings, and has a thesaurus when my spelling is so wrong that I need to find it using a similar word that I can spell. However, there is one area where my spelling really is a disability: crossword puzzles. I have the wrong vowel on 1 across, which means I now have the wrong starting letter for 3 down, and I know the answer to the clue for 12 across, but there are more boxes than I think there are letters, so I don’t enter any letters.

Crossword puzzles aren’t required for my job or life, but it does illustrate how a skill deficit can be a problem in some situations and not an issue at all for others. The same is true if we use a medical model point of view or a social model.

In the medical model, a disability is something about the person that can be diagnosed, and it is a problem or something to “fix.” Whereas, in the social model, disability is a reflection of architecture, culture, norms, or expectations of others.

In the medical model, disability is a fixed status, meaning it is not likely to change. In the social model, disability is dynamic, increasing or decreasing based on the environmental surroundings.

Both models are more complex than these simple definitions. Examining the difference helps to illustrate the importance of the point of view when making decisions and planning for students with disabilities. The most important viewpoint is that of the person with the disability.

For example, for many students, we have goals related to social skills to increase the amount of time they talk with and engage with their peers. But what if the student is introverted and shy? Maybe their lack of engagement is not a disability deficit but a choice.

As we start planning for transition as a required part of the IEP, when the team decides that the student will live independently, did we ask if that was the student’s goal? I am a successful, employed woman whose salary is a very livable wage, yet I don’t live alone. I have had the same roommate for decades, and I call him “husband”.  If the goal someone decided for me was that I live alone, I still would not have met that goal all these decades later.

Point of view also helps us understand each of the IEP team members suggestions and concerns during the meeting. The parent is “parenting,” meaning protecting, guiding, coaching, advocating, and worrying about their child. The special education teacher is focused on the disability and how to reduce barriers. The general education teacher is focused on how to include the learner in their instruction and what to expect from the student. The district representative is focused on ensuring legal compliance, staffing allocations, and data. It is no wonder that people leave the meeting feeling differently about the result, because they were each looking through their own lens.

Given the complexity of the work, it is amazing how often IEP teams agree. When the team is struggling to come to consensus, perhaps they first need to back up and understand the point of view of each member. Then, with this richer understanding, try to develop a plan together.

I say this knowing how hard it is when you are certain that your suggestions are the best ones for the student. But I have also had the opportunity to look at my own practice from a different point of view, and learned a lot about mistakes made and missed opportunities. I wish I had made more time to listen and more time to look through someone else’s point of view.

Choices, Expectations, and Discipline

Discipline.

What came to mind when you read that word?

Some of you may have thought of a moment when you were disciplined by a parent, teacher, or other adult.

Some of you may have thought of a moment when you were the disciplinarian.

And some of you thought about being punished.

Punishment is not the same as discipline.

Discipline is the coaching and teaching of expectations. This makes sense if we think about a root in the word:

Discipline—>Disciple—>Student

Punishment, on the other hand, is about power. The person with power demands submission or administers physical, mental, or emotional pain on another. (Note, this is not a post about the value or ethics of spanking—that is a different discussion.)

When we want to truly understand bigger concepts like expectations, we must also understand the difference between discipline and punishment. If we have high expectations for someone, then there will likely be times you need to discipline them. Most of the time, you are coaching, teaching, mentoring, and cheering the person on. But people are imperfect, and there may be times when the person you are caring for makes a choice that is unsafe, undesirable, or otherwise not acceptable. At that moment, discipline is important.

Unfortunately, too many students with complex disabilities are either over-punished or under-disciplined.

Let’s first consider when students are over-punished. This often occurs if the student has significant behavior challenges and the team is not adequately trained on how to understand the motivation of the behavior and how to encourage desired behavior. In these situations, the team tends to punish. Privileges are removed, words are said, and, very sadly and inappropriately, sometimes illegal or unethical physical punishment occurs.

Now let’s examine situations that lead to being under-disciplined. One common example is when a student has a significant cognitive disability. Too often, there is a quick “forgiving” of the student’s poor choices. Excuses like ”they don’t really know better” or “ they are cognitively like a two-year-old” are said. But these are lies we tell ourselves to justify lowering expectations. If we don’t discipline a student with a cognitive disability, we are, through our action, saying that we don’t think they can or will learn the expectation, we don’t want more for them, and we don’t need to take the time to understand their choice. In short, we don’t think they have a right to be heard, and we don’t value them.

But the thing is, I don’t believe people feel that way; they just don’t know that discipline is holding high expectations. And if you don’t understand that, it feels unfair to discipline. But when we do understand the difference between discipline and punishment, we are able to emotionally engage in tough discipline conversations with the student from a place of love and kindness.

When we are committed to a student’s learning and, ultimately, thriving, we coach them, teach them, mentor them, cheer them on, and

Discipline them.

One Voice Is Enough

I don’t know about you, but I’ve been struggling. I feel like things are changing daily, and I can’t keep up. As a special educator, I don’t know if the systems that support people with disabilities are going to sustain the help, or if they are going to disappear or change their focus. I have lived all of my life with a fair amount of confidence in what the future will be, and now I am unsure.

What I now realize is that it is not all the changes that make me feel uncertain, but rather, how I respond to the changes. Politics, global tensions, wars, threats of recession, pandemics, drought and flooding…so many things pulling my attention away from what matters most to me: empowering people with disabilities to thrive.

When I am stressed, I watch a movie that I know I will enjoy because I have seen it before (or a lot), and do something creative. Tonight, I watched a classic character–Elle Woods– and as she always does, she inspired me in her own way. The movie I watched was Legally Blonde 2. In this movie, Elle Woods, played by Reese Witherspoon, is in Washington, DC, advocating for a bill to stop animal testing by cosmetics companies. And, in the closing monologue, as she speaks to the House, she reminded me that “one honest voice can speak louder than a crowd.”

What would happen if we made space for an honest voice at our IEP meetings? What if the honest voice was the student’s?

Far too many students do not have an effective communication system, yet they are communicating. We need to make space for their voice. When we listen, really listen, to the student, we learn how to best support them to achieve their dreams.

And, what would happen if we each remember that our voice matters? As the world gets noisy, we can calmly and honestly speak the truth as we know it. For example, I know that individuals with disabilities are critical members of our community. I know that a community that does not include all of the people within it is weaker than it should be. I know that students with disabilities are learning tremendous amounts every day, even if it was not the target for the class. And I know that our students who don’t have an effective communication system have a lot to say to us.

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.