I overheard
a conversation yesterday while waiting for my cold cuts at Shoprite. That’s right you heard it: Shoprite.
They lifted the Kevin Ban about a year ago. He’s even allowed in the cereal aisle!
Anyway, 2
girlfriends were talking about school and the one says, “Jenna has been in the
inclusion class every year since kindergarten and it’s really got me
upset. I think maybe there’s a problem
and they’re just not communicating it to me.
I mean, why else would they keep putting her in a classroom with two
teachers year after year?”
Now this
conversation had me very upset and I got to thinking, “I wonder if some of my
readers feel this way. I bet they
do! I must put an end to this way of
thinking immediately!” So here goes:
You don’t
know this because you’re not a teacher but at the end of the year, when all us
teachers sit down to create class lists for September, the first classrooms we
create are the inclusion classes. Half
the class HAS to be in there because they are classified in some way but the
other half is very precisely chosen according to a specific set of
standards. In short, if your neuro-typical
child is presently populated within an inclusion class, they were hand selected
to be there, and you should be proud of her/him as a person and yourself as a
parent.
When
populating the “other half” of an inclusion class, we look for children who are
at or slightly above grade level and require no additional academic or
social/emotional support. We’re hunting
for role models: children with superior social skills who can be counted upon
to model appropriate behavior at all times.
But even THAT’s not enough. In an
inclusion class there’s a lot of group work and partnered work. Much more than you see in the gen ed
classroom. The theory behind it is
this: when a special needs child is
exposed to his/her regularly developing peers in a controlled setting where
cooperative work is encouraged, that child becomes more socially aware and
socially appropriate. What inclusion teachers
need are children who can work WITH special needs kids instead of doing the
work FOR them. We’re looking for
patience, kindness, understanding, independence and it’s HARD, damn hard. It’s hard to find and adult with all those
qualities, so imagine trying to find them in an eight year old!
But we
manage it. And when we find that
perfect, everything we’ve been looking for in a child child, we tend to hang on
for dear life as long as you allow us. That’s why your child gets placed in the
inclusion class year after year. Not
because they need extra help, they require NO extra help, and are enormous
asset to the teachers and their classmates who may have special needs.
Inclusion is
the greatest invention on EARTH. Once
upon a time, if you had even the mildest learning disability like dyslexia, you
were placed in a classroom at the end of the hall, hidden away like someone’s
deep dark secret. The only exposure you
had to children your age was at specials and lunch where you were ostracized
because they all thought something was “wrong” with you. It was awful, and a lot of children with
enormous potential wasted away in an environment that did not meet their academic
or emotional needs. Nobody Wants To Be A Member Of This Club Including Us Club
members have ONE thing in common: we
thank God every day for inclusion and the little angles who are teaching our
children to be more socially appropriate while teaching other children how to
be more accepting. If your neuro-typical
child has spent his/her entire academic career in the inclusion classroom, it’s
not because there’s a problem, it’s because they are an angel sent straight from
Heaven.
There’s a
little girl who has been in class with Kevin 4 out of 6 years. I will call her Grizelda. Not the prettiest name on Earth but it means “endless
patience” and is therefore fitting.
About 3 years ago I was at the beach with her and her mother and all our
kids seemed to be playing nicely. Then I
heard the scream. Kevin has a particular
scream he uses right before he starts to hit you, hard. I got up like lightning ready to save
Grizelda from the impending fire storm, but what I saw stopped me dead in my
tracks. Kevin WAS trying to hit Grizelda but she was blocking the blows with a
move behaviorists call a “sweep.” It
looks a lot like the “wax on wax off” move from the Karate Kid and prevents a
child who’s trying to hit you from doing just that. With each sweep, Grizelda said, in an
emotionless tone, “Kevin show me calm,” over and over again for about 2
minutes:
Sweep
Grizelda: Kevin show me calm.
Kevin: No! I hit you!!!!
Sweep
Grizelda: Kevin show me calm.
Kevin: No!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sweep
Grizelda: Kevin show me calm
Kevin: Sawney
Grizelda: It’s OK.
Show me calm
And in
response to her direction, Kevin put his arms flat at his sides to show
Grizelda the tantrum was over.
Grizelda: Good job buddy good job I’m so proud of you
for making a good choice.
Kevin: I good boy?
Grizelda: You’re a very good boy.
I was
amazed. I simply couldn’t believe what I
was seeing. All the members of my family
had been trained in restraint but how did this girl know exactly what to do in the face of such aggressive behavior?
I called her over.
Me: Grizelda that was amazing. Who taught you to do all that?
Grizelda: I learned it by watching Ms. Simms.
Me: Kevin’s been having fits like this in class?!
Grizelda: No he has them in Apples to Apples. He does NOT like to lose.
Me: Apples to Apples?
Grizelda: Yeah.
It’s actually social skills training but Kevin doesn’t know that so we call
it Apples to Apples since that’s his favorite game. We know what to do when he freaks out. Ms. Simms calls it empowerment. Can I go play now?
Me: Sure.
Dear lady
who was buying bologna yesterday at Shoprite around noon,
Bologna is
extremely unhealthy and you should not be buying it. Also, your daughter may not be the smartest
but she is superbly unique and you should be gushing with pride. If more children on this Earth were like your
daughter, this world would be a gentler, more accepting place. People would care less about being the best
and more about being the kindest. You’re
a wonderful mother and your child is appreciated by teachers like me and
mothers like me more than you will ever understand. Please, please, please keep your child in the
inclusion class forever. We need her.