I was facilitating my reading group this morning at 10:00. All of a sudden, and pair of shoes come flying across the room from the far left corner. One shoe hits the overhead projector and lands on the lens.
The other shoe, almost as if it were laser-guided, hits Tom in the head, causing him to cry for like an hour. He spent the rest of the day just sitting there with an ice pack on his head.
Brad had freaked out suddenly, and, without the aide even noticing, removed his shoes under the table then suddenly threw them in a violent manner across the room. The whole incident lasted less than like 4 seconds.
Showing posts with label Tom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tom. Show all posts
Saturday, November 7, 2015
58: Treat jar causes problems:
Brad and Tom got into a huge fight about who, out of the two of them, would get to chose from the Friday treat jar first. The Friday treat jar is glass, and has a metal top on it.
The two of them were pulling at the jar, each trying to select a piece of candy first, when they dropped the treat jar on the tile floor, causing it to shatter. This causes mixed reactions amongst the tards.
Some immediately burst into tears, as they can not deal with loud, startling noises. Lewis freaks out, and stays as far away from the glass he can because "Glass has AIDS." All Brian wants to do is pick up the little bits of glass. Because of this, he is removed from the classroom until the custodian comes down to sweep it all up. Augusta charges the remnants of the broken jar like a pinata had just been broken into. He completely ignores the glass aspect, and starts grabbing at the candy on the floor. He cuts his hand, but it still takes two aides to remove him and his bleeding hand from the candy.
I decide that it is too dangerous to have the tards in the room with broken glass all over, so I take them outside to play until it was all cleaned up.
The two of them were pulling at the jar, each trying to select a piece of candy first, when they dropped the treat jar on the tile floor, causing it to shatter. This causes mixed reactions amongst the tards.
Some immediately burst into tears, as they can not deal with loud, startling noises. Lewis freaks out, and stays as far away from the glass he can because "Glass has AIDS." All Brian wants to do is pick up the little bits of glass. Because of this, he is removed from the classroom until the custodian comes down to sweep it all up. Augusta charges the remnants of the broken jar like a pinata had just been broken into. He completely ignores the glass aspect, and starts grabbing at the candy on the floor. He cuts his hand, but it still takes two aides to remove him and his bleeding hand from the candy.
I decide that it is too dangerous to have the tards in the room with broken glass all over, so I take them outside to play until it was all cleaned up.
56: Tom loses it:
Tom came to school today in full form. He was kicking other kids on the playground even before school started. When he came into the classroom, he refused to unpack his backpack, hang up his coat, pick up his reading notebook, etc.
About ten minutes into reading group, he is kicking me under the table, and it hurt. Imagine getting kicked in the shins repeatedly by a hyperactive tard on 45 mg of Dexedrine. I am used to this sort of kicking, but then he started to kick the other kids. One of them cried, but most kicked back at him.
My aide removed him from the room, and into the hallway. He was going nuts--kicking, wailing his arms around, spitting. She had to literally hold him in a bear hug type restraint. He was resisting as best he could. He got one of his legs free and kicked a non-retarded girl in the stomach as she was walking by. And he kicked her HARD. She buckled over in pain, crying, was short of breath.
My aide asked him if he wanted to have a good day that day, and earn all his points. Right then, a fifth grade class was walking by on their way to music. She kept asking him if he was going to improve his behavior, when he yelled out loudly "NO YA ASSHOLE!"
The fifth grade class of course thinks this is the funniest thing they had ever witnessed, and all twenty seven of them bust up laughing. Tom assumed they were making fun of him and begins kicking like crazy. A second aide was needed to hold him down. Tom continued with "NO FAT ASSHOLE!"
He was carried up to the office by the two aides, screaming at them the entire way up. His mom was called, and he was put into a small conference room while we waited for her. He destroyed the room and broke the fax machine. Mom was presented with a ninety dollar bill when she got there.
About ten minutes into reading group, he is kicking me under the table, and it hurt. Imagine getting kicked in the shins repeatedly by a hyperactive tard on 45 mg of Dexedrine. I am used to this sort of kicking, but then he started to kick the other kids. One of them cried, but most kicked back at him.
My aide removed him from the room, and into the hallway. He was going nuts--kicking, wailing his arms around, spitting. She had to literally hold him in a bear hug type restraint. He was resisting as best he could. He got one of his legs free and kicked a non-retarded girl in the stomach as she was walking by. And he kicked her HARD. She buckled over in pain, crying, was short of breath.
My aide asked him if he wanted to have a good day that day, and earn all his points. Right then, a fifth grade class was walking by on their way to music. She kept asking him if he was going to improve his behavior, when he yelled out loudly "NO YA ASSHOLE!"
The fifth grade class of course thinks this is the funniest thing they had ever witnessed, and all twenty seven of them bust up laughing. Tom assumed they were making fun of him and begins kicking like crazy. A second aide was needed to hold him down. Tom continued with "NO FAT ASSHOLE!"
He was carried up to the office by the two aides, screaming at them the entire way up. His mom was called, and he was put into a small conference room while we waited for her. He destroyed the room and broke the fax machine. Mom was presented with a ninety dollar bill when she got there.
51: Valentines Day Party:
We had a Valentines day party. The activity was frosting and decorating heart shaped sugar cookies. It was awesome! We had like 10 different kinds of candy to decorate with, and the kids absolutely loved it! They had a ball decorating their cookies. The problem arose when the kids had to take turns going to the "decorating table".
I had set up a table in back with the cookies, frosting, plates and all the little decorating candies. There was only enough room for three kids at a time to be there. I chose three kids at a time to go back, and made my selections based on behavior, so they decorated in an order of best to worst behaved kids. The order started with Lindsay, Peter and The New Kid and would end with Brad, Jamal and Augusta.
This freaked Augusta, causing him to assume there would be slim pickings on the candy. He was pissed off. He was so pissed off and concerned about the candy usage, that he took it upon himself to monitor, from his desk, each students decorating job.
None of the other kids in my class would ever think this way. They would be pissed because they had to wait so long to make their cookie, but never would it occur to them to be pissed at the depletion of candy. There was heaps and mounds of candy on that back table. Ten plates full of different candy; we weren't going to run out if there had been fifteen Augustas decorating cookies.
I knew this, but Augusta didn't. He watched each kids cookies like a greedy hawk, constantly commenting about using too much candy. It was pissing me off because they kids were having a good time doing a special activity.
I had warned him to pipe down a few different times before he called Tom a "fat pig" for using lots of candy on his cookie, and eating some while he decorated. I sent him out to sit in the hall. Right before it would have been his turn to make a cookie, the office buzzed my room, informing me that Augusta's mother was in the office to pick him up early, and I was to send him down ready to go home.
All his worrying had been done in vain, and in the end, he would have no cookie to eat.
I went out to the hall to tell him to get his stuff and go down to the office, his mother was here to get him. He refuses to go. I went back in the room and packed all his stuff up for him. I then went out to the hall to give it to him. He refused to take it, so I put it on the floor next to him. He refused to get up, to walk down the office, etc.
I wanted him out of there. He was being rude and disobedient. He wouldn't go. This is when Riti Sped forms a brilliant plan.
I remember that Augusta had really enjoyed the play Hansel and Gretel that we had seen two weeks earlier. I gave my aide a bag of Hershey Kisses. She went out to the hall and laid them out in a scattered trail, leading to the office. I give Augusta a paper sack, and tell him there is a trail of treats laid out that will lead him to a prize. He jumps up and snatches the bag out of my hand. I had never before seen him move so fast.
He begins furiously picking up the chocolates. He was like a police dog searching for drugs. My aide followed Augusta out and all the way to the office. I needed her there in the end, as I knew he would be upset and accuse me of lying. He gets to the office where his mom is waiting. He completely ignores her, and inquires about the location of his prize. "Well it is your mom Augusta, she is your special prize!" my aide happily announces to him.
He does not like this one bit. He starts bitching out his mom in front of the entire office staff. He was saying things like she was to buy him a bag of cookies, and that she ruined his plan for his cookie.
He finally calmed down when his mom agreed to buy him his OWN ice cream pie from Baskin Robbins that he would not have to share with anybody.
I had set up a table in back with the cookies, frosting, plates and all the little decorating candies. There was only enough room for three kids at a time to be there. I chose three kids at a time to go back, and made my selections based on behavior, so they decorated in an order of best to worst behaved kids. The order started with Lindsay, Peter and The New Kid and would end with Brad, Jamal and Augusta.
This freaked Augusta, causing him to assume there would be slim pickings on the candy. He was pissed off. He was so pissed off and concerned about the candy usage, that he took it upon himself to monitor, from his desk, each students decorating job.
None of the other kids in my class would ever think this way. They would be pissed because they had to wait so long to make their cookie, but never would it occur to them to be pissed at the depletion of candy. There was heaps and mounds of candy on that back table. Ten plates full of different candy; we weren't going to run out if there had been fifteen Augustas decorating cookies.
I knew this, but Augusta didn't. He watched each kids cookies like a greedy hawk, constantly commenting about using too much candy. It was pissing me off because they kids were having a good time doing a special activity.
I had warned him to pipe down a few different times before he called Tom a "fat pig" for using lots of candy on his cookie, and eating some while he decorated. I sent him out to sit in the hall. Right before it would have been his turn to make a cookie, the office buzzed my room, informing me that Augusta's mother was in the office to pick him up early, and I was to send him down ready to go home.
All his worrying had been done in vain, and in the end, he would have no cookie to eat.
I went out to the hall to tell him to get his stuff and go down to the office, his mother was here to get him. He refuses to go. I went back in the room and packed all his stuff up for him. I then went out to the hall to give it to him. He refused to take it, so I put it on the floor next to him. He refused to get up, to walk down the office, etc.
I wanted him out of there. He was being rude and disobedient. He wouldn't go. This is when Riti Sped forms a brilliant plan.
I remember that Augusta had really enjoyed the play Hansel and Gretel that we had seen two weeks earlier. I gave my aide a bag of Hershey Kisses. She went out to the hall and laid them out in a scattered trail, leading to the office. I give Augusta a paper sack, and tell him there is a trail of treats laid out that will lead him to a prize. He jumps up and snatches the bag out of my hand. I had never before seen him move so fast.
He begins furiously picking up the chocolates. He was like a police dog searching for drugs. My aide followed Augusta out and all the way to the office. I needed her there in the end, as I knew he would be upset and accuse me of lying. He gets to the office where his mom is waiting. He completely ignores her, and inquires about the location of his prize. "Well it is your mom Augusta, she is your special prize!" my aide happily announces to him.
He does not like this one bit. He starts bitching out his mom in front of the entire office staff. He was saying things like she was to buy him a bag of cookies, and that she ruined his plan for his cookie.
He finally calmed down when his mom agreed to buy him his OWN ice cream pie from Baskin Robbins that he would not have to share with anybody.
32: Sub is not welcome:
As is life, I was so sick on Sunday night that I had to call a sub for the following day. My sub plans included writing words on the kids small chalkboards. Because I was gone, and the kids can't adjust to this, they all were bad.
The sub left the worst feedback I had ever seen. She also asked that I not call on her again. This is what Tom wrote on his chalkboard. She was so angry that she left it for me to see.
I was proud of him, it was all spelled correctly and the "I" was capitalized. If he had included a period at the end, I might have let him chose from the prize box.
The sub left the worst feedback I had ever seen. She also asked that I not call on her again. This is what Tom wrote on his chalkboard. She was so angry that she left it for me to see.
I was proud of him, it was all spelled correctly and the "I" was capitalized. If he had included a period at the end, I might have let him chose from the prize box.
26: Tards contribute snacks:
Augusta comes to school today with snacks that he was donating to the class. A regular size ziploc sandwich bag stuffed so full of nuts that it would barely close. It was weird. I put them aside, and later when the kids are at music I look more carefully at the nuts. There are 2 kinds of nuts in the bag. Hazelnuts and Brazil nuts. Both of which are nasty. They were also salted.
I was puzzled, so I asked Augusta about the odd donation. He told me that his family has a huge 5 pound can of mixed nuts at home, and that they liked all of the nuts except these two kinds. Super. I am very excited about feeding the rejected nuts from Augusta's family to my class.
Other donations:
- Lindsay: Scooby-Doo fruit snacks
- Brad: peanut butter Rice Krispy treats
- Tom: cheese mini-Ritz bits
I know what I will be giving Augusta for his snack for a long, long time.
I was puzzled, so I asked Augusta about the odd donation. He told me that his family has a huge 5 pound can of mixed nuts at home, and that they liked all of the nuts except these two kinds. Super. I am very excited about feeding the rejected nuts from Augusta's family to my class.
Other donations:
- Lindsay: Scooby-Doo fruit snacks
- Brad: peanut butter Rice Krispy treats
- Tom: cheese mini-Ritz bits
I know what I will be giving Augusta for his snack for a long, long time.
Friday, November 6, 2015
15: Every student is funny in their own way
Emily ALWAYS unties her shoes. Due to retardation, she was unable to re-tie them. It got old fast.
Her mom used to send whole oranges, cold spaghetti, slabs of fucking beefstick, etc. for her lunch. Nothing is easy in special ed land.
Lewis is another case. Truly, a case. He is in fifth grade and likes to flap his arms like a bird. He is amusing though, because he will say things to you like "Do you have a hyperlink on your website to the Parkland School District?"
One time I said to him "Lewis, so funny you are." He stops, thinks for a while, and says "You said 'so funny you are' instead of 'you are so funny'..........I like that." He recently said, "wouldn't it be funny if you snuck a camera into Costco and secretly took a bunch of pictures of fat people. Then put them all on a website and call it www.piggiesatcostco.com. [Ed. note-This is not a real website].
A lot of tards need to have a plastic grip on their pencil in order to develop necessary hand coordination and writing skills. Tom likes picking at his grip and taking it off. I told him that if he continued to fuck with it, I would take the pencil all together. Well, I took the pencil. Predictably, he freaked.
This is the aftermath of his angry, violent temper tantrum.
Her mom used to send whole oranges, cold spaghetti, slabs of fucking beefstick, etc. for her lunch. Nothing is easy in special ed land.
Lewis is another case. Truly, a case. He is in fifth grade and likes to flap his arms like a bird. He is amusing though, because he will say things to you like "Do you have a hyperlink on your website to the Parkland School District?"
One time I said to him "Lewis, so funny you are." He stops, thinks for a while, and says "You said 'so funny you are' instead of 'you are so funny'..........I like that." He recently said, "wouldn't it be funny if you snuck a camera into Costco and secretly took a bunch of pictures of fat people. Then put them all on a website and call it www.piggiesatcostco.com. [Ed. note-This is not a real website].
A lot of tards need to have a plastic grip on their pencil in order to develop necessary hand coordination and writing skills. Tom likes picking at his grip and taking it off. I told him that if he continued to fuck with it, I would take the pencil all together. Well, I took the pencil. Predictably, he freaked.
This is the aftermath of his angry, violent temper tantrum.
3: Even Riti Sped can be immature
I had quite an incident with one of my kiddos, "Tom" today. He has severe behavior problems, and is on major medication. He also constantly picks at things. Anything that can be picked at, he will pick.
Today he came to school and he had what appeared to be an adhesive like substance on multiple places on his body (face, hands, arms, chest). He could focus on nothing but the sticky shit all over him. I was getting so angry but nothing was fazing him. I was putting zeroes on his behavior chart, threatening to take away his snack, call his mom, etc. He just didn't give a shit about anything but the sticky stuff on his body. I kept asking him what was all over his body, and he kept responding to me, but I think in Russian or something. He has a severe speech impediment, you can barely understand the kid.
All I knew was that he was covered with this stuff, and smelled like Denny's or something. We were not getting anything accomplished, so when recess rolled around, I told him that because he wasted my time, I will waste his recess time. He had to finish his work during recess (his work consists of tracing letters, cutting out shapes, coloring pictures IN THE LINES, and putting a series of 3 pictures in the correct order--its not as if I was teaching him algebra or anything).
When he figured out that he wasn't going outside with the other kids, he absolutely fucking lost it. He starts kicking anything he can, pushing over chairs, breaking crayons, spitting. I immediately hit the button on the wall to summon the principal.
Now he really freaks out, and proceeds to strip naked. Absolutely fucking NAKED. He then plants his naked ass in the indoor classroom sandbox that has rice grains in it instead of sand, and is screaming out one word that I cannot, for the life of me decipher, and kicking rice all over the place. At this point, I refuse to be within 20 feet of him. Our principal walks in the room and asks "What is the problem?"
At this question, I can only wonder if the naked, screaming retard in the rice box is a figment of my imagination.
Our principal puts on his principal voice, grabs Tom's arm, and pulls him out of the ricebox. He then asks Tom why he keeps yelling "syrup".
He demands Tom put his clothes on. He puts on his underwear and pants, and refuses to put on anything else. The principal grabs his shoes, socks, shirt, and starts walking out. Tom freaks out. "Give my shirt" and "Not for yours" is all he is yelling as he follows the principal up to the office.
About 3 minutes later, as I am straightening the displaced furniture, one of my autistic kids comes in to do math with me. He is obsessed with staples, and fixates on looking for staples in carpets. He actually gets rewarded when he goes one day without crawling around on the carpet looking for staples. Anyway, he comes in my room and sees the rice grains all over the place.
He freaks out.
He then spends the next 15 minutes of instructional time picking up rice--grain by grain--and putting then in his pockets. He gets all the rice picked up, also cuts the shit out of his hand digging a staple out of the carpet. I walk him up to the health room so he can clean up his scraped up hand.
Tom's mom is in the office, picking up Tom. She was pissed too because she had to leave work to come get him. I say something to her about Tom picking at sticky stuff on his body. She tells me he had pancakes for breakfast, and offers no other explanation. Welcome to the world of special ed.
Her and Tom start walking out to the parking lot, I walk back to my room, following behind them like 50 yards. Tom turns around and sees me (his mom is still facing forward) and I stick my tongue out at him. (I know, very immature, but geez I am 24, ok?) He belts out the loudest fucking screech, and his mom whacked his ass so fucking hard, picks him up, and carries him, kicking and screaming, to the car. She also is screaming at him that we do not yell at our teachers.
I was so pleased with myself for the tongue stick out. I love these kids, but sometimes they drive me nuts.
So, here I sit, Dave Letterman on the TV, TuckerMax.com on the computer, and a stack of papers full of scribbled names and backward fives and twos.
Thank God tomorrow is a half day. Drinks will begin promptly at noon.
Today he came to school and he had what appeared to be an adhesive like substance on multiple places on his body (face, hands, arms, chest). He could focus on nothing but the sticky shit all over him. I was getting so angry but nothing was fazing him. I was putting zeroes on his behavior chart, threatening to take away his snack, call his mom, etc. He just didn't give a shit about anything but the sticky stuff on his body. I kept asking him what was all over his body, and he kept responding to me, but I think in Russian or something. He has a severe speech impediment, you can barely understand the kid.
All I knew was that he was covered with this stuff, and smelled like Denny's or something. We were not getting anything accomplished, so when recess rolled around, I told him that because he wasted my time, I will waste his recess time. He had to finish his work during recess (his work consists of tracing letters, cutting out shapes, coloring pictures IN THE LINES, and putting a series of 3 pictures in the correct order--its not as if I was teaching him algebra or anything).
When he figured out that he wasn't going outside with the other kids, he absolutely fucking lost it. He starts kicking anything he can, pushing over chairs, breaking crayons, spitting. I immediately hit the button on the wall to summon the principal.
Now he really freaks out, and proceeds to strip naked. Absolutely fucking NAKED. He then plants his naked ass in the indoor classroom sandbox that has rice grains in it instead of sand, and is screaming out one word that I cannot, for the life of me decipher, and kicking rice all over the place. At this point, I refuse to be within 20 feet of him. Our principal walks in the room and asks "What is the problem?"
At this question, I can only wonder if the naked, screaming retard in the rice box is a figment of my imagination.
Our principal puts on his principal voice, grabs Tom's arm, and pulls him out of the ricebox. He then asks Tom why he keeps yelling "syrup".
He demands Tom put his clothes on. He puts on his underwear and pants, and refuses to put on anything else. The principal grabs his shoes, socks, shirt, and starts walking out. Tom freaks out. "Give my shirt" and "Not for yours" is all he is yelling as he follows the principal up to the office.
About 3 minutes later, as I am straightening the displaced furniture, one of my autistic kids comes in to do math with me. He is obsessed with staples, and fixates on looking for staples in carpets. He actually gets rewarded when he goes one day without crawling around on the carpet looking for staples. Anyway, he comes in my room and sees the rice grains all over the place.
He freaks out.
He then spends the next 15 minutes of instructional time picking up rice--grain by grain--and putting then in his pockets. He gets all the rice picked up, also cuts the shit out of his hand digging a staple out of the carpet. I walk him up to the health room so he can clean up his scraped up hand.
Tom's mom is in the office, picking up Tom. She was pissed too because she had to leave work to come get him. I say something to her about Tom picking at sticky stuff on his body. She tells me he had pancakes for breakfast, and offers no other explanation. Welcome to the world of special ed.
Her and Tom start walking out to the parking lot, I walk back to my room, following behind them like 50 yards. Tom turns around and sees me (his mom is still facing forward) and I stick my tongue out at him. (I know, very immature, but geez I am 24, ok?) He belts out the loudest fucking screech, and his mom whacked his ass so fucking hard, picks him up, and carries him, kicking and screaming, to the car. She also is screaming at him that we do not yell at our teachers.
I was so pleased with myself for the tongue stick out. I love these kids, but sometimes they drive me nuts.
So, here I sit, Dave Letterman on the TV, TuckerMax.com on the computer, and a stack of papers full of scribbled names and backward fives and twos.
Thank God tomorrow is a half day. Drinks will begin promptly at noon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)