Wednesday – The Problem Solving Team
Oct. 6th, 2010 09:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermore.
.
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The Problem Solving Team did not meet on time; it turned out that the team had a lot more members than I expected it to, and some of them were running late. They also wanted to review some things, apparently, before my husband and I joined the group. Perhaps we should have protested, but neither of us were really looking forward the meeting and waiting out in the hall allowed us to put off the grim reality we were about to face inside of the conference room.
As we were waiting, a small, dark-haired boy who looked to be about 7 darted down the hallway in front of us. A teacher trailed behind him and ordered for him to slow down and wait for her. He dropped to the floor and lay on his back. I recognized the passive-aggressive see-I-have-stopped-but–not-in-the-way-you-wanted-me-to nuance of his action. The teacher bent over him and calmly told him to get up. He looked at her and shook his head silently. She repeated her request, and he shook his head again. She repeated it a third time, and he jumped up they walked down the hall together.
"That looked familiar," Jeff commented softly, "I guess we aren't the only ones."
"I wonder what his IEP says?" I asked. I also wondered if the teacher knew what the headshake meant. It did not mean no, it meant give me a moment to process what you are asking of me. My son is likely to either say the word no or shake his head in exactly the same way. The way she kept repeating the request until he complied meant she probably did.
Finally they called us in. Jeff was the only man on the team. I'm still not sure who all of those women were, though they all introduced themselves. I knew the counselor, the principal, and my son's teacher. Also present were the assistant principal and the psychologist, both of whom Jeff had met before. There were one or two other women in the room who I think had something to do with the planned evaluations we would be signing the consent for at the end of the event. The looks on their faces were kind and sympathetic. The expressions kind of reminded me of the expressions on the faces of the employees of the funeral home where I work/observed for two days back when I worked for the funeral home conglomerate. They all wore that sad smile that says both Thank you for coming and I'm so sorry you have to be here.
The psychologist was the only one whose eyes weren't sad and sympathetic; she was actually perky and fresh faced. Jeff had told me when he met her that she didn't look old enough to drink, but I think she is probably around 30, give or take a couple of years: old enough to not only drink, but get a doctorate in psychology. In another few years, after sitting through more of these meetings, she will probably have the same sympathetic eyes as the other women who were veterans of these encounters. She still seemed to be kind of new at this; she had the air of a person who had written a very interesting report that she was eager to share with the group.
First we were shown some academic testing that had been done on our son. For most things he was average or above average. On the last topic he was below average, but that was because he was tired and refused to answer any of those questions. I was on the mind that that should have invalidated that part of the test. Refusing to take a test because you need a break is not the same as failing it.
After his academics were discussed, there came the Main Event: the Psychological Evaluation, which was read aloud to the group, with plenty of breaks for conversations, explanations, and asides.
I remembered the morning and sending the email. It was the last morning that Sweet Pea bought his breakfast at school. The transition from the YMCA Before-School Care to breakfast was too much for him to handle, and I started waking him up earlier and feeding him at home after that. He is not good at transitions.
The psychologist looked up and smiled. "They do really cute cheers in the class. He seems to like those." He will come out from under the table or stop running around the room for a cheer, and then go back to what he was doing before.
The report went on to describe a conversation with Jeff and one with me. It also described Sweet Pea at lunch, which he had with his father that day because Jeff had come up to the school to observe him on the same day that the psychologist did. She noted that when speaking to his father, Sweet Pea "made appropriate eye contact and communicated verbally." I guess he doesn't do this much at school, and it also explains why we, his parents, have been unaware of the extent of the problem; around the safety of his family, he behaves differently. The final observations were those of his teacher.
The visual rewards system is that for each good thing that he does (such as sitting still or doing as he is asked), he gets a smiley face. For each 5 smiley faces, he gets a reward.
The last page of the report was the summary.
It took more than an hour for her to read the 4-page report while we discussed it. His teacher then further described all the methods she had tried, and Jeff and I suggested others that might work. We explained about the word no – how he uses it to mean that he needs more time to change gears. We have only recently figured this out ourselves. It sounds like he is being defiant, because that is what it means when other children use this word. When most children say No! it is short for No, I won't! For a child like my son, it is short for No! Slow down! I need time to understand what you are asking me to do!
We signed a stack of consent forms before we left so that our son can be evaluated for special education accommodations. Jeff commented that all the forms made it like feel like we were signing a mortgage. Other forms have been sent home in the days since, asking us to consent to other tests. They all seem to use the same wording, so I'm not sure what they are all for.
We went home. Jeff needed to get some sleep so he could work that night. I needed to get to work. But first, I needed to decompress. I needed to look off into space for a while and feel nothing. I needed to cry for a few minutes. I needed to feel lost. Just for a little while, though. A few brief moments. And then I had to pick myself up and brush myself off.
I can't say that this is okay, or that everything will be okay. I can only say that it is the hand we've been dealt, so we will play it and we will play to win. It's amazing what you can do when you realize you have no other choice.
My son is no different than he has always been. He was the newborn who would only nurse if he were held in just the right position and who cried out in rage when the nurse swaddled him in such a way that he could not move his hands (I fixed that for him as soon as she left the room). He was the toddler who could not stand for his hands to be dirty and who learned to use a dinner napkin long before he learned to ride a tricycle. As a 3 year old, he went through a 3-week period after he outgrew his inflatable toddler bathtub and we "graduated" him up to the regular tub, where he would only take a bath after fighting and clinging to the door frame before we could get him in the water. During this same period, we had to teach him that while it is okay to put your hands over your ears when you hear one of those loud public toilets flush, it is not okay to scream until the sound goes away. My son has always been the way he is.
The difference is that now my husband and I are becoming aware of what all these things mean. Our son is not any different because of this report, but we certainly are.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
.
.
The Problem Solving Team did not meet on time; it turned out that the team had a lot more members than I expected it to, and some of them were running late. They also wanted to review some things, apparently, before my husband and I joined the group. Perhaps we should have protested, but neither of us were really looking forward the meeting and waiting out in the hall allowed us to put off the grim reality we were about to face inside of the conference room.
As we were waiting, a small, dark-haired boy who looked to be about 7 darted down the hallway in front of us. A teacher trailed behind him and ordered for him to slow down and wait for her. He dropped to the floor and lay on his back. I recognized the passive-aggressive see-I-have-stopped-but–not-in-the-way-you-wanted-me-to nuance of his action. The teacher bent over him and calmly told him to get up. He looked at her and shook his head silently. She repeated her request, and he shook his head again. She repeated it a third time, and he jumped up they walked down the hall together.
"That looked familiar," Jeff commented softly, "I guess we aren't the only ones."
"I wonder what his IEP says?" I asked. I also wondered if the teacher knew what the headshake meant. It did not mean no, it meant give me a moment to process what you are asking of me. My son is likely to either say the word no or shake his head in exactly the same way. The way she kept repeating the request until he complied meant she probably did.
Finally they called us in. Jeff was the only man on the team. I'm still not sure who all of those women were, though they all introduced themselves. I knew the counselor, the principal, and my son's teacher. Also present were the assistant principal and the psychologist, both of whom Jeff had met before. There were one or two other women in the room who I think had something to do with the planned evaluations we would be signing the consent for at the end of the event. The looks on their faces were kind and sympathetic. The expressions kind of reminded me of the expressions on the faces of the employees of the funeral home where I work/observed for two days back when I worked for the funeral home conglomerate. They all wore that sad smile that says both Thank you for coming and I'm so sorry you have to be here.
The psychologist was the only one whose eyes weren't sad and sympathetic; she was actually perky and fresh faced. Jeff had told me when he met her that she didn't look old enough to drink, but I think she is probably around 30, give or take a couple of years: old enough to not only drink, but get a doctorate in psychology. In another few years, after sitting through more of these meetings, she will probably have the same sympathetic eyes as the other women who were veterans of these encounters. She still seemed to be kind of new at this; she had the air of a person who had written a very interesting report that she was eager to share with the group.
First we were shown some academic testing that had been done on our son. For most things he was average or above average. On the last topic he was below average, but that was because he was tired and refused to answer any of those questions. I was on the mind that that should have invalidated that part of the test. Refusing to take a test because you need a break is not the same as failing it.
After his academics were discussed, there came the Main Event: the Psychological Evaluation, which was read aloud to the group, with plenty of breaks for conversations, explanations, and asides.
[Sweet Pea] was observed on the morning of September 13, 2010 in his kindergarten classroom. The observation period began at 8:55 AM and lasted approximately 45 minutes.
When the observer entered the classroom, [Sweet Pea] was sitting in his assigned seat at a table with three other students. He appeared to be writing the litter "i" on a piece of paper with a green crayon. While he was observed writing, his teacher, Mrs. F., informed the observer an e-mail had arrived from [Sweet Pea]'s mother stating [Sweet Pea] displayed aggressive behavior while in attendance at the YMCA program prior to school beginning. In addition, the e-mail stated [Sweet Pea] had not slept well the previous night and went on to inform the teacher that his behavior is usually worse when he has not had enough sleep.
I remembered the morning and sending the email. It was the last morning that Sweet Pea bought his breakfast at school. The transition from the YMCA Before-School Care to breakfast was too much for him to handle, and I started waking him up earlier and feeding him at home after that. He is not good at transitions.
About five minutes into the observation period, the students were directed to stop working and put away the item s on their table. [Sweet Pea] appeared to comply with Mrs. F.'s directions. However, after stopping, [Sweet Pea] stood at his desk and began writing again. [Sweet Pea] was called on again to stop working and put away his belongings. Before cleaning up his items, [Sweet Pea] went and sat on the carpet. Mrs. F. approached him and asked him to clean up his supplies. When she was in close proximity to him, [Sweet Pea] put his head in his sweatshirt and curled up into a ball (almost like a turtle) on the floor. Another verbal reminder was given and [Sweet Pea] complied: he cleaned up his supplies and went back to the carpet where the other children were sitting. Upon joining his classmates on the carpet, he immediately turned and crawled under the table behind him where he had been working previously. He remained under the table for two minutes before complying with the teacher and para-educator' s direction to return to the carpet.
[Sweet Pea] then raised his hand to volunteer information to the class. He was not called on and immediately began looking around the room. He then rolled around and crawled around on the carpet on his knees. He appeared to not be interested in the lesson until a "firecracker" cheer was given for a student. [Sweet Pea] participated in this quick firecracker cheer, which involved a hand motion and then attempted to hide under the table again. He was verbally directed to return to the carpet. The teacher then stated while looking at [Sweet Pea], "We are going to be doing fun things today." [Sweet Pea] appeared to hear this statement and returned to the carpet as directed. He immediately raised his hand in an effort to be called on by his teacher. Although he appeared eager to be called on, he was not called on. After another student was called on, [Sweet Pea] put pulled his arms out of the sleeves of his sweatshirt and next to his stomach area. He was seen playing/tossing the sleeves of his sweatshirt.
Around 9:08 AM [Sweet Pea] left the classroom with another student for a stretching break. He returned at 9:15 and immediately hid under the table. A substitute para-educator reminded him that if he sat on the carpet he could earn a sticker. He returned to the carpet and began swinging his sweatshirt. For about two minutes he played with his sweatshirt while sitting on the carpet. At the end of the two minutes, a "butterfly" cheer was given to a student and [Sweet Pea] participated in the cheer. He was then directed to "sit on his pockets." [Sweet Pea] did not comply, stood up, and began swinging his sweatshirt around. He then "ran" away from the teacher and began running around in the classroom. (The other students were still seated on the carpet.) A para-educator showed him a visual cue card of "sit." [Sweet Pea] leaned towards her and slapped the visual cue out of her hand.
The observer approached him and directed him to either sit in his "quiet spot" or sit on the carpet. He made the choice to sit on his quiet spot. While sitting, the observer put his shoes back on (which he had taken off earlier) and directed him to sit quietly on the carpet, now that he show n he could sit quietly. [Sweet Pea] returned to the carpet and raised his hand. When another student was called on he crawled to a para-educator. He was verbally directed to sit on the carpet again. He responded to her direction stating, "Each time this gets boringer and boringer." The para-educator told him to sit in his quiet spot or on the carpet. He did not respond to her directive and began kicking a chair. The para-educator directed him again to his quiet spot or the carpet, stating that under the table was not choice. [Sweet Pea] sat next to the table. Music then began and [Sweet Pea] stood up and performed the actions to the songs with his classmates.
The psychologist looked up and smiled. "They do really cute cheers in the class. He seems to like those." He will come out from under the table or stop running around the room for a cheer, and then go back to what he was doing before.
The report went on to describe a conversation with Jeff and one with me. It also described Sweet Pea at lunch, which he had with his father that day because Jeff had come up to the school to observe him on the same day that the psychologist did. She noted that when speaking to his father, Sweet Pea "made appropriate eye contact and communicated verbally." I guess he doesn't do this much at school, and it also explains why we, his parents, have been unaware of the extent of the problem; around the safety of his family, he behaves differently. The final observations were those of his teacher.
A teacher interview was conducted with [Sweet Pea]'s kindergarten teacher, K. F., on September 9, 2010. In addition, Mrs. F. completed an examiner-developed questionnaire on September 29, 2010.
Mrs. F. reported that she first noticed problems during the first week that [Sweet Pea] was in attendance in her classroom. [Sweet Pea] would crawl under the table, pull his shirt over his head, throw things, run around the classroom, and bite. Her primary concerns at this time include behaviors linked to his safety and the safety of his classmates and staff members. They specifically include his physical aggression towards others (kicking, hitting, biting, and screaming), interrupting/disrupting the class, and noncompliance with directives.
Academically, cutting appears to be a notably difficult task for [Sweet Pea]. In addition, he needs assistance to remain on-task with the majority, if not all, academic tasks. Providing [Sweet Pea] with one-on-one assistance has been the only way thus far to maintain his attention to tasks through completion.
Socially [Sweet Pea] is reported to have a difficult time interacting with his classmates. He displays aggressive acts that come across as threatening to others. Removing him from the classroom, providing him miniature breaks, offering him two appropriate choices and allowing him to choose instead of giving him a command/directive, and/or providing him the assistance of a staff member one-on-one have been helpful to a small degree in managing his behavior in the classroom setting.
Mrs. F. also shared that transitions seem difficult for him and noises appear to bother him. She also stated that he does not like for his hands to be messy. When asked if [Sweet Pea] ever communicates his frustration, Mrs. F. stated [Sweet Pea] makes statements when he is angry such as, "I am angry." "I hate you." and "I hate this school."
Interventions that have been tried in the classroom thus far this school year, in addition to those she uses standard in her classroom, include offering him choices, using picture icons to help communicate, providing him a "quiet spot" to retreat to in the classroom , providing him a para-educator one-on-one for additional support, and the utilization of a visual reward system. [Sweet Pea] is reported to frequently not respond to the choices offered to him and does not appear to like the icons, as he will attempt to knock them out of the teacher's hand. He will retreat to his "quiet spot" on occasion but does not remain there for over a few seconds (with or without staff guidance). In addition, he often does not regain composure to return to the group/assignment for longer than momentarily consistently. He appears motivated by the visual reward system and Mrs. F. shared he has been the most successful with the one-on-one support.
The visual rewards system is that for each good thing that he does (such as sitting still or doing as he is asked), he gets a smiley face. For each 5 smiley faces, he gets a reward.
The last page of the report was the summary.
A consultation was requested by [Sweet Pea]'s parents and staff members at ------ ------ Elementary School due to possible adjustment difficulties and anger management problems. It was requested that recommendations be made concerning [Sweet Pea]'s behavior.
[Sweet Pea] has demonstrated significant behavioral difficulties since entering kindergarten this school year and parents reported behavioral problems occurring prior to his enrollment at ------ ------ Elementary School, including him being asked to leave a day care in March of 2008. Specific behavior concerns reported by his kindergarten teacher refer to [Sweet Pea]'s safety, in addition to his classmates and teachers' safety. [Sweet Pea] is reported to not comply with directives, display physical aggression in the form of kicking, hitting, biting, and screaming, and to overall disrupt the classroom on an on-going basis. Several interventions have been developed and implemented over the past few weeks and thus far, one-on-one support appears to be the most effective in limiting the number of inappropriate behaviors daily.
…Due to the varying behaviors that have been observed and reported, it appears that an evaluation that focuses on a differential diagnosis of Autism versus an Emotional Disturbance would be the most appropriate, as [Sweet Pea] has been observed and reported to demonstrate behaviors characteristic of both Texas Education Agency (TEA) disability categories.
It took more than an hour for her to read the 4-page report while we discussed it. His teacher then further described all the methods she had tried, and Jeff and I suggested others that might work. We explained about the word no – how he uses it to mean that he needs more time to change gears. We have only recently figured this out ourselves. It sounds like he is being defiant, because that is what it means when other children use this word. When most children say No! it is short for No, I won't! For a child like my son, it is short for No! Slow down! I need time to understand what you are asking me to do!
We signed a stack of consent forms before we left so that our son can be evaluated for special education accommodations. Jeff commented that all the forms made it like feel like we were signing a mortgage. Other forms have been sent home in the days since, asking us to consent to other tests. They all seem to use the same wording, so I'm not sure what they are all for.
We went home. Jeff needed to get some sleep so he could work that night. I needed to get to work. But first, I needed to decompress. I needed to look off into space for a while and feel nothing. I needed to cry for a few minutes. I needed to feel lost. Just for a little while, though. A few brief moments. And then I had to pick myself up and brush myself off.
I can't say that this is okay, or that everything will be okay. I can only say that it is the hand we've been dealt, so we will play it and we will play to win. It's amazing what you can do when you realize you have no other choice.
My son is no different than he has always been. He was the newborn who would only nurse if he were held in just the right position and who cried out in rage when the nurse swaddled him in such a way that he could not move his hands (I fixed that for him as soon as she left the room). He was the toddler who could not stand for his hands to be dirty and who learned to use a dinner napkin long before he learned to ride a tricycle. As a 3 year old, he went through a 3-week period after he outgrew his inflatable toddler bathtub and we "graduated" him up to the regular tub, where he would only take a bath after fighting and clinging to the door frame before we could get him in the water. During this same period, we had to teach him that while it is okay to put your hands over your ears when you hear one of those loud public toilets flush, it is not okay to scream until the sound goes away. My son has always been the way he is.
The difference is that now my husband and I are becoming aware of what all these things mean. Our son is not any different because of this report, but we certainly are.
