IEP

It's been more than a month since Teddy's IEP, and I'm finally getting to recap it. His IEP is his individualized education plan, designed to support his needs, which requires meeting with his entire team at least once a year.

This IEP came at a perfect time, as it was shortly after his most recent bite from a fellow classmate, so we focused primarily on his safety at school as well as his integration with his 5th grade peers. 

It was a full house for this IEP, with more people than any other time, even though we were a person short because Dave stayed home with a sick Teddy. (In an ideal world, Teddy would be a part of his IEP meetings to have his voice heard, but that's less than conducive. Trust me. I've tried it.) Given the issues we've been having, the principal joined the meeting, along with a student teacher there for the experience. Then it was the usual crew: his intentional teacher, his 5th grade teacher, adapted PE, OT, PT, speech, nurse, assistive technology and the special education team member. Let's just say I asked for introductions to refresh my memory as I only see nursing and assistive technology once a year, and it's a lot to keep track of. 

I was pleasantly surprised with how the IEP started, as the team proposed a schedule that goes from about 20-40 minutes a day of inclusion to about 2.5 hours of integration. There was only one other opportunity for integration that I raised (thanks to my conversations with his 4th grade teacher, who happens to know him extremely well, about what might work). Instead of only morning meeting and music class, Teddy's new schedule includes breakfast, morning meeting, snack, social studies/science, lunch, recess, music, art and the occasional gym class. 

All smiles for the first lunch in the lunchroom with 5th grade!

Whew, that's almost exhausting to type, much less to be the paraprofessional supporting Teddy in all this integration. I know it's work to help Teddy integrate, and it won't be perfect. It won't work every day and every situation as planned. But the more time he spends with his 5th grade peers, the more he will model their appropriate social behaviors. He proved this last year by learning to raise his hand at appropriate times because everyone else was. The more time he spends in his intentional classroom with behaviors that aren't appropriate, the more likely he is to mimic those behaviors. Additionally, and most importantly to us, he doesn't get hurt in the 5th grade classroom whereas he's targeted in his classroom. (To be fair, he's targeted because he has no personal space bubble and doesn't feel others do either.) 

It's been an adjustment to spend that much time transitioning, but it's been neat to see how excited Teddy was to spend more time in 5th grade. I'm not sure if gym has happened yet, but that was a neat bonus that his adapted PE teacher wanted to try without being aware of the rest of the integration discussion. This is particularly cool because it was initiated because Teddy has made so much progress in his skills (both physical and social) that his teacher feels like he could be successful in certain lessons. 

Needless to say, we appreciate all the work his team puts in to make Teddy successful. It takes a village to support Teddy.  We showed our appreciation by bringing them lunch for the first day back at school - subs, chips and brownies, homemade, of course. And how many people did we feed? A village of 17.

Plus a brownie his team gave Teddy because he asked so clearly and nicely. 

Sharing with a Velociraptor

The other night we had grapes for supper. Teddy was apparently starving and shoveling food into his mouth faster than he could chew. (He's at risk for choking, but he just doesn't realize it.) I grabbed an egg carton and put a single grape in each hole. That slowed him down somewhat, and it often works until he dumps the carton onto his plate. And I just got sidetracked researching slow feed bowls for dogs ... there's a lot of parallels between Teddy and a puppy, so why not leverage that?

Anyways, the other night, Teddy was apparently too hungry to demonstrate any self-control, and he stole Dave's entire serving of grapes. He was so quick, determined and fierce that we joked he was like a velociraptor. Dave simply went and got himself a second serving of grapes. He set that on his plate, picked up a different piece of food, and the grapes were gone ... again. Teddy had snatched them in a second. 

It's frustrating and challenging because we need to establish boundaries that stealing food isn't acceptable, yet he's so quick and determined that trying to stop him results in potentially getting hurt or the food destroyed. I know we need to do better, so I asked him right away if he could share the grapes with Dave.

Teddy responded by immediately plopping a single grape on Dave's plate. I couldn't help but laugh. It was squished, so Dave rejected his offer to share. But Teddy heard my request, comprehended it and shared what he felt was appropriate (a single grape after stealing probably 20 or more). The comprehension is there, but we clearly need to work on the communication and impulse control.

Hey, I could say the same about myself and impulse control when it comes to food ...

Pants are Pointless

Weeks like this make me appreciate our childcare providers more than ever. I always appreciate them and try to tell them how much we love them and couldn't manage without them. But weeks that we're juggling childcare and work drive home that point. This is one of those weeks.

For example, I went downstairs to grab lunch today. In the living room, along with a wide selection of toys, I also saw a broom, a dustpan and an oven mitt. I found my husband in the garage, trying to free Teddy from his entanglement in his running chair with his leg trapped. I assisted with that and commented to Dave that he looked like he was facing a firing squad. His reply was that at least a firing squad would put him out of his misery.

I can relate. Yesterday afternoon I spent the better part of my afternoon trying to get Teddy to wear pants. Teddy can independently put on his pants, but he has to be motivated. Otherwise, we assist him in dressing. It's not a big deal, except when he's actively resisting. Then, the child remains unclothed. I didn't fight him for the first hour, simply ignored him as he sat pantless on top of the dining room table while AJ worked on his school work. I joked to AJ that in traditional school, at least he doesn't have pantless classmates sitting on top of tables. 

However, when Teddy was miserable in the house, wanting to apparently do nothing except cause trouble or whine, I tried to get him ready to go outside. I'm pretty relaxed in my parenting style (as is evidenced by the pantless kid on the table referenced above), but pants are required for going outside. 

Look at those angry eyebrows.

I asked Teddy to put on his pants. I tried to assist him, to no avail. I used his talker to model how to use it to say, "You need pants." That didn't entice him to come by me, which normally he's so excited to use it that he cooperates until he gets his hands on the device. He chewed on his pants. He whimpered. He moaned. He cried. But eventually he put on pants.

Have I mentioned how much I appreciate our sitters?