Right on Track

We've reached the end of the first week of middle school, and we're right on track. 

Quite literally, actually. 

We spent several months this summer working with our local school district regarding Teddy's use of a GPS tracker at school. We had to navigate privacy and security concerns (for other students) as well as district policies. We worked with his tracking device company's school liaison educators to ensure our district understands the capabilities of his tracker and why it's best for Teddy. 

It took until an IEP a week before school started, but we reached consensus on how to best support Teddy. We're really happy with the solution as we feel it's best for Teddy to ensure his safety. It's also, hopefully, an opportunity to work toward changing district policy to allow other families to use similar devices.

At any rate, it allows us to know exactly where Teddy is, ensure he makes it to school, to his after-school program and track him should he elope from school ... not that he's ever done that before ... oh wait ... that's a good story.

Gosh, I love these two goofs!

While he does have his older brother at school to advocate and look out for him, AJ has yet to see Teddy at school because their paths don't cross. But several of AJ's friends have said hi to Teddy in the halls, and he has gym with one of the neighbor girls, which he thinks is the coolest thing. (He doesn't care that she's a mature 8th grader, and he's only a 6th grader ... he'll still hang with her.)

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. 

Chomp, Chomp, Chomp

Teddy's been in the school system for 7 years now, and this is the first year that he has a child who bites in his classroom. Given that Teddy's in a self-contained classroom, which means he's in a classroom with other high-need students who aren't in mainstream classrooms, it's not surprising that his classroom looks a bit different than other classrooms. It's not uncommon to have different behaviors (like Teddy's flop and drop or food stealing) like yelling, occasional hitting, clothes that leave the body and more. But most of those, aside from the hitting, don't actually cause harm to others. 

Teddy's been bitten 4 times in the first 3 weeks of school. He's become the main target because he has no personal space boundaries and doesn't realize other people have boundaries. The worst was getting the call last week Monday that he was bit again while he still had a giant bruise on his other arm from Friday's bite. So I spent much of my time during his therapy and at night laying with him while he fell asleep e-mailing and trying to advocate for additional resources. 

One of the latest bite marks.

Believe me when I say I'm fully supportive of his teacher and the small team that works in his classroom daily. In addition to trying to educate our children, they're also spending all their time redirecting and modeling appropriate social behaviors, not to mention trying to curb negative behaviors and ensure safety. It's almost laughable some of the suggestions that others in administration suggest for solutions. OK, I'll be honest, I might have chuckled and asked if they've actually spent time in Teddy's classroom. I was kidding, but I also realize that what might work well for many kids likely may not be the best interventions for kindergarten students with significant behavioral challenges. 

After e-mailing quite a few folks, and several discussions with his teacher, it sounds like they are pulling in a variety of resources to hopefully resolve the behaviors quickly to ensure safety in the classroom.

But I also firmly believe the underlying issue is inadequate staffing. I reached out to the Director of Special Education at the start of the school year when I realized there were 7 students in Teddy's classroom with only one teacher and 2 paraprofessionals. (We've advocated since early on to have 1:1 staffing for Teddy due to safety reasons, not to mention to meet his learning needs, and we've never made any headway with that.) To compensate for being short staffed with high-need kids, the best solution at the start of school was to place a practicum student in the classroom who's there about 50% of the time to be an extra body. At the start of school, the district was short 20 para-professionals, with at least one of those open roles in Teddy's classroom.

I don't know how many para roles are still open, but the one in Teddy's classroom still is, along with others in his school I believe. These roles are critical to students' success and safety. Right now it's next to impossible to hire people for roles like paras because there is such low unemployment in Wisconsin that gas stations and other entry-level roles can pay as much or more as caregiving roles and paraprofessional roles. Everywhere you go, you see now hiring signs. Seriously, I just did a search on career postings, and a gas station is starting at $15/hour and the Oshkosh School District paraprofessional role is posted at $15.48. 

So I've been advocating and reaching out to others in the district to see what is being done beyond the standard recruitment for these roles. I truly believe that unless they make changes to overall compensation that they will not fill these roles that are so critical in keeping our students safe and helping our students learn. Thus far I've learned that a comprehensive review of each paraprofessional job description is being done starting next month to evaluate roles, responsibilities and compensation. That's a starting point, but we need to do better as a community. We're failing all of our students when we can't fill these and other critical roles. 

Escape Artist

Earlier this week, Teddy was having a rough morning. He was in a sassy mood, trying to climb over the stair railing and was sad because we kept redirecting him. So he went into his room, vocalizing his displeasure. I had 5 minutes until my timer went off for the granola in the oven, so I figured I'd join him in his room to see if I could improve his mood. I laid down next to him, and he covered me with a blanket, left the room and shut the door. It's not uncommon for him to do this and then continue to open and shut the door, but I decided to beat him to the punch by opening the door ...

... except the knob wouldn't turn. I didn't panic completely because sometimes the door handles stick with the safety locks on them, so I pried off the safety lock. Yet the door knob still wouldn't turn. I was locked in Teddy's room. He was locked outside his room. We were alone in the house. I had no phone. Yikes.

His OT should be impressed. I am, but I'm not.

Fortunately, we keep a screwdriver in his room in case this happens, so I went to grab the screwdriver. But I couldn't find it. Now I was panicking, praying and sobbing while pulling things down off the shelf to look for the screwdriver. I still couldn't find it. 

Now, I'm short, and the shelves in Teddy's room are tall, so he can't pull things off them. That means I can't see on top of the shelves without standing on the bed (or bouncing to see further back). So I was jumping on his bed trying to find it, flinging things off his taller shelf. There is nothing to climb in his room (to keep him safe), so I didn't have many options to look and feel in the far reaches of the shelf. 

After I ripped down most things from the shelves, I didn't think I had any other option to make sure Teddy was safe for the hour until our sitter arrived. So I removed his window screen, asked him one more time if he'd open the door and used the fire safety escape ladder to get down to our deck one story below. Then I ran around the house, unlocked the door and the safety lock from the garage and walked inside to find Teddy staring out the window down the street. 

It's a lovely view, minus the rather unsteady ladder.

That's when I grabbed my phone to photograph the adventure of the morning and the step stool to put his room back together. Of course, when I wasn't freaking out, I was able to locate the screwdriver. I knew I was panicking because I know the trouble Teddy can get into in an instant (as is evidenced by him locking me in the room). I had tried to calm myself and slow down, yet I knew time was of the essence.

Fortunately, we were both completely safe. As we put his room back together, I discovered all sorts of fun books that had been shoved out of sight on his bookshelf. And I got some valuable fire safety practice skills, along with the opportunity to have AJ practice that evening (since the ladder is intended for single use, so we just did it right out on ground level to practice the motions). 

And, I also realized that it will be nearly impossible without strapping Teddy to me physically to get him down the fire safety ladder. I honestly thing the best bed would be to lay his pile of pillows on his sheet, lay him on top, and scoop up the bedding and lower it as low as I can before I drop him onto the deck, which would be not horribly far. I mean, he fell further without cushioning when he scaled the railing from the second floor. Are parents supposed to contemplate these things? 

Sigh. This child will be the death of me. 

Never a Dull Moment

I've shared before a morning in my life and a week in our life, highlighting some of the adventures that occur in our household. Today I want to share a 30-minute window of our life, this morning in particular.

It began as an ordinary morning with me running at 5 a.m. with a friend and getting home just before 6 to shower. By that time, Dave was ready to head to work, but he stayed to get Teddy dressed for school before leaving. I finished up breakfast responsibilities for the boys, got Teddy's braces and shoes on, got Teddy dressed and out the door along with AJ around 6:55 a.m. because their buses both come right before 7. And that's where our window begins.
7 a.m. AJ's bus driver tells me to be patient because Teddy's bus driver is sick. I realize that Teddy and I are better off hanging out in the garage instead of me chasing him and his snow shovel around multiple driveways in the cul de sac. We head in the garage, and I shut the door to keep Teddy enclosed while I run into the house quickly.

7:03 a.m. I pull Teddy off the hood of my vehicle. He pulled the step stool over to scale onto my hood and was quite happy to be there. I was quite happy he wasn't on the roof from the 90 seconds I went in the house to put snot-covered gloves in the washer.

7:05 a.m. I determine that his substitute driver is going to be later than just a few minutes, so I quick pop in the house to toast a bagel for my breakfast because I'm expecting a call from Teddy's teacher at 7:15 a.m. to follow up on a recess incident from yesterday.

7:06 a.m. I pull Teddy off the back of the Tahoe as he's standing on the rear windshield wiper about to scale up to the roof. I'm really happy I got him before he got on the roof because it's a challenge to get him down from there. How a child who walks into walks routinely can scale a Tahoe that quickly amazes me.

7:10 a.m. I let Teddy inside my vehicle to play and happened to check my phone, which I had left in my vehicle after running. I notice a missed call and voicemail from the bus company. I expect it to be them letting me know they'd be running late. Instead, the gist of the message was that they would not be picking Teddy up for school as they had no replacement for his bus driver. I was befuddled that was even an option. I understand short staffing, but I have a hard time believing a yellow bus full of children simply wouldn't be picked up ... yet it can happen to a child like Teddy who rides a van instead of a bus to school? I return the call to the bus company, but no one answers. Guess I'm taking Teddy to school. I have no idea how early I can drop him off since his bus driver handles that.

7:15 a.m. I begin driving around with Teddy since he's already in my vehicle. His teacher calls me to follow up on an incident that happened at recess yesterday. There was a note and an e-mail to call him, but I didn't see those until after 8 p.m. and didn't want to disturb him then. It turns out that incident was Teddy eloping at recess and being missing for 5-10 minutes. He was riding his adapted bike and somehow got past all the para-professionals and playground staff. He was found stuck in a snowbank by one of the three roads that surround the school. He thought life was grand. The rest of us, not so much. I know there was absolutely no ill intent by his team at school, but Teddy cannot be trusted with his own safety. It's rather unsettling that Dave and I had a conversation last night, before we knew of this, that Teddy was most likely to die from complications from his disorder or his lack of safety awareness. We're grateful yesterday turned out as it did because it could have went very differently. His team is safety planning, so we'll work with them to make sure changes happen to keep Teddy safe from himself.

7:30 a.m. I drop Teddy off at school and head to work. I'm glad I'm only his mom and not his guardian angel.