tears

Yesterday I cried twice at school.

It was a little surprising. Especially surprising because I wasn't crying about a stressful workload.

In the morning I was in a 4th grade classroom where I co-teach math. The student teacher was teaching and the regular teacher was telling me about a girl in her class who is on my caseload and has a reading goal, but has been receiving instruction in the regular ed. environment. The teacher is very concerned about her performance in class and kept saying how she fell through the cracks and now will be so discouraged if she ends up having to go back to learning support. As I thought about how at the beginning of the school year there were several IEP's that I didn't look at all that closely and how many kids I have to keep track of on so many levels in so many areas, the tears just started filling my eyes because I'm so worried that she will not be the last student that I say, "Oh. Yeah. That was me. I missed that." She represents failure to me. She reminds me of the huge, huge cost of failure in my line of work. And no, we/I have not completely failed her. We'll get it back on track, but the feeling was terrifying. There is constantly, in the back of my mind, the reality that the neediest kids are in my room and I'm supposed to change something about that. It is a much different kind of pressure than the pressure of deadlines. tumblr: mary ruffle

I want to help my kids develop the same sense of urgency that I have about their learning. I get angry with kids who are disrupting my room not because they are not "following the rules," or "listening to me," but because they make precious minutes of instruction dissolve before my eyes.
And "Least Restrictive Environment" is really difficult to successfully implement when, I, as the teacher, am in a very restricted situation of not being able to get out of my room to support those kids who don't need to be in a separate room, but still have goals that need to be monitored and direct instruction that needs to be delivered. This is a serious dilemma that I am very sensitive about. I think that's why I started crying. I just don't know how to help everyone.

The second time I cried was at lunchtime. The kids were having indoor recess and one of my students came in to play on the computer because he was bullied out of the computers in his classroom. This child is so cute and incredibly sweet with a great sense of humor. He also has a HUGE problem with focusing and has actually been observed to walk in circles around the room before remembering where he was going and why (I saw it.) He absolutely cannot sit still. His lack of organization is rather astounding. I describe him as "a mess." The OT who has worked with him for years told me that this behavior is very out of character for him. After combining what the child has shared with both of us, we concluded that he has been going through a lot of tough emotional stuff at home and probably feeling a lot of the stress that his mom is feeling. He breaks my heart. It breaks my heart to hear that he told the OT, "I just have to keep myself moving because I'm so tired." I breaks my heart when I speak sharply to him and he gets this thoroughly defeated look on his face and puts his head in his hands. But what really broke my heart, what made the tears fall for the second time that day, was when I asked him if he buys his lunch at school. He said, "No, I get it for free." He paused, then said, "But I would like to have a lunchbox." I asked what he would bring in his lunch box. He said casually, "Oh, just like chips and a fruit roll-up like the other kids. And a sandwich - just a regular one with bologna." The way he sat there at the computer, totally into his game and said this to me without the slightest bit of self-pity made me want to wrap him in my arms and take him home with me and give him a fruit roll-up and help him with his homework and put him to bed on time. But he's not a kid who's not being loved and coming home with me would not actually be good for him because it's not all about money. He's just so dear and precious... and absolutely exasperating when mixed in with 13 other impulsive and distracted students. Every time I tell that story the tears well up in my eyes. Aren't you crying too?
And the thing is, wanting a fruit-roll up in a lunch box is not the worst of it in this world for some kids. Some kids just want a pair of shoes that don't have holes to wear in the winter. Some just want to be able to drink a glass of clean water. And while it is awful for anyone, any age, to be homeless or helpless or in need of something so basic, when it's a child, it just does something extra painful to your heart.

Say a prayer for my kids. And all the kids. In all the world.