Once again, I feel compelled to show this hilarious clip from Summer Heights High, a mockumentary of high school students. Originally, I thought it was from England, but my fellow school psychologist from New Zealand pointed out last time Australia actually deserves credit. Thanks, Shirley! In this clip, our friend Jonah is getting “Anger Management” lessons from the school psychologist. If the f- word offends you, I wouldn’t click on this. But if you are not around small children and want a laugh, click away.
Any school psychologist will tell you that this is pretty accurate when trying to give a scripted “Anger Management” program with a student who is angry. Allow me to reminisce about my foibles at Haides Middle School when I was an intern. That first year, our school truant officer stopped showing up and our “anger management therapist” got so angry that she was never given a key to an office and quit. Oh delicious irony! So the principal asked me if I could start an anger management group and gave me a list of about 20 candidates for the group. Being an obliging young intern, I took the list and started at the top with recruitment.
Here are some pitfalls, that I wish for other young psychs to avoid:
1) When you call a group the “Anger Management Group” it sounds to kids like the opposite of fun. Pizza may be the only way to get them there.
2) Parents also can be standoffish when you cold call to recommend that their child be in this group.
3) When principals put together these lists, they put the most severe kids on the top. And when you put several angry kids together, you form a gang.
4) When you are alone in a room with a gang of angry students, you have very little control over the situation, even with the best structure and positive reinforcement strategy in the world. There is one of you and 5 or 6 of them. Longest hour of your life.
So after a long period of recruitment and cajoling participants, I held my anger management group and it was melee. They cursed at each other, threw things, exploded into WWE Wrestling parties in the middle of my “take a deep breath!” speech. Later, my “Anger Management Group” banded together to go pop locks off of everyone’s lockers together. That wasn’t the group cohesion I was going for. After this first group, I consulted with a colleague about what went wrong and how to improve it for next time. We were CSI: Group Autopsy Unit.
Cause of death: Poor planning with group composition.
I have now renamed my group the “Talent Group” and it has a positive focus of developing assets in these students instead of trying to get them to not be angry. I also recruited a co-facilitator. The group goal is to develop a plan to showcase the group’s talent at the end of the 12-week session. The beauty of the “Talent Group” is that a) kids want to be in it, b) parents are less threatened by the content, c) you get to see your kids in a new light, and d) the anger/conflict that arises out of having to make group decisions is naturalistic and meaningful, not a poster of tips like the one Jonah rejected.
What I do is get teachers to “nominate” kids they think have a talent that is un-tapped. I have them rank this kid as “low” “medium” or “high” risk for oppositional and angry behavior based upon the DSM-IV criteria for Oppositional Defiant Disorder. Zero to one symptoms in the checklist is “low risk,” 2-3 symptoms is medium risk and more than 3 is high risk. Then I pick ONE high-risk kid, a few medium-risk kids, and a few low-risk kids. The importance of having low-risk kids cannot be underscored enough. They can serve as calming forces and models for good coping for the other students. I did some research to make sure that the role model kids don’t get damaged in this process, and fortunately, they do not. What the do is get experience on how to cope with a hostile peer in a safe environment.
The most rewarding thing about changing my Anger Management Group to the Talent Group is that the kids begin to identify themselves as talented individuals, not angry kids in need of help. I will never forget this little boy from my group one time. I was recruiting for my group, and I pulled this 6th grade kid out of class with his teacher to tell him his teacher had “nominated” him to be in the talent group because he showed “leadership potential.” This kid’s face went from this angry scowl that said “who the hell are you and why I am in trouble now” to this soft, doe-eyed child with a huge smile. He looked at his teacher and honestly asked, “You think I have talent?” The teacher smiled and said he did, and that kid was on Cloud-9 for the rest of the day. It changed the dynamic between the kid and this teacher and this kid was always the first to arrive at group, ready to learn.
You just can’t get that from the Angry Club.
Wednesday, 27 February 2008
Saturday, 23 February 2008
RtI is the New Black
I have a confession. I’ve been spying on you. I can see what search terms people use to get to my blog. I get many people to my blog through “School Psychologist Blog” which makes sense, but there are some people who are confused when the search term “Ugliest Girl in School” gets you to me. The top search term lately though has been “School Psychologist and Response to Intervention.” I have a dual reaction of “Yea! People want to know about prevention!” and then guilt for only having a few posts on the topic.
Truth be told, RtI overwhelms me.Also, the majority of my assignments are at middle schools because I love the tween angst. Therefore, the concept of RtI isn’t even being discussed much. In fact, I’ve never heard the term uttered once in my school this year, and it’s February. I think the problem is that RtI in middle school is even more amorphous than in elementary schools.
What could RtI look like in the middle schools?
No seriously, I’m asking you. I have no idea. Would it be a glorified SST process in which there are real interventions that are documented, implemented with treatment fidelity, research-based, and followed-up upon? Don’t we theoretically already have that system in place? Unfortunately, I think the direct instruction in areas of academic need intervention in middle school is usually non-existent, except for maybe homework club after school or remedial or study skills classes.
I’ve dug around in the research, and found mostly large-scale interventions about “What Works” that will in fact not work in my schools on Monday without district-support and major paradigm shifts. So I’ll instead take the big idea of RtI down to something I can do on Monday. Please, feel free to include any experiences you have at your schools with RtI that have worked so we can learn from each other.*
RtI Strategies for School Psychologists in Secondary Schools
Big Idea #1: Become knowledgeable in curriculum-based measurement and academic interventions already in place at your school site. See what is being done and make it even better.
Realty: I have a general sense of what the academic interventions are for kids at my sites. They are pretty much remedial reading classes, computer-based interventions for targeting basic skills, and “in-class support” from intervention specialists and resource teacher. To my knowledge, there is no systematic curriculum-based measure for tracking progress other than grades. I could investigate further and offer consultation on how to track progress for target classrooms or students in a cute little graph with a trend line.
Big Idea #2: Think of your role as moving from “tester” to “intervention specialist.” Provide students with counseling, assist teachers with data collection, and consult with staff about appropriate academic interventions.
Reality: Dear God. When will I have time to intervene with anything while I’m only at my school one day a week and have to do testing? I suppose I can start with supplementing what I’m already doing. I already go to SSTs so I could meet with key SST team members, and write down every intervention available at our school site to identify gaps. It could be our “Menu of RtI Interventions.”** Then I could help my school site locate community-based organizations that may fill these gaps. And if our RtI Menu only has one appetizer, one main, and no dessert, then at least we will know what to advocate for down the road.
I could also procure a cloning machine, and clone self to have the time to be my school site’s RTI Consultant.*** If I locate such a machine, or get more days at my site, I will definitely consult with The RtI Wire.
Big Idea #3: Focus assessment on Curriculum-Based Measurements and RtI Interventions**
Reality: Our district still requires using the discrepancy model. So for initials, I could add a paragraph in my “background history” of my report on any RtI Interventions that have been attempted. If I’m feeling saucy, I can make a graph of curriculum-based interventions with trend lines, if said interventions have taken place. If not, refer back to Big Idea #2.
Triennials have a bit more leeway with what an assessment looks like if the kid has already been tested several times and the disability is well established. By the time the student is in 10th or 11th grade, it is less helpful for parents and teachers to know that the student still has an auditory processing deficit. They have known that since probably 3rd grade. Ask the parent what they are interested in knowing for the triennial and focus on that. For example, I had a parent who told me she could care less about the kid’s letter-number-sequencing abilities and cognitive test scores. She was worried about her son’s life after high school and if he could learn to fill out job applications and write cover letters. I focused the triennial on the student’s transition plan and work backwards to what can be done now.
*Don’t try to hide! I see your visiting and non-commenting ways. Don’t be scared, share your wealth o’ information!
**I know, the name “Menu of Response to Intervention Interventions” sounds like it came from the Department of Redundant Department, but “Menu of RtInterventions” sounds weird.
***Someone told me once that sarcasm is a form of anger, disguised as humor. Apparently, I’m bitter about the lack of mental health resources for children in our public schools.
Truth be told, RtI overwhelms me.Also, the majority of my assignments are at middle schools because I love the tween angst. Therefore, the concept of RtI isn’t even being discussed much. In fact, I’ve never heard the term uttered once in my school this year, and it’s February. I think the problem is that RtI in middle school is even more amorphous than in elementary schools.
What could RtI look like in the middle schools?
No seriously, I’m asking you. I have no idea. Would it be a glorified SST process in which there are real interventions that are documented, implemented with treatment fidelity, research-based, and followed-up upon? Don’t we theoretically already have that system in place? Unfortunately, I think the direct instruction in areas of academic need intervention in middle school is usually non-existent, except for maybe homework club after school or remedial or study skills classes.
I’ve dug around in the research, and found mostly large-scale interventions about “What Works” that will in fact not work in my schools on Monday without district-support and major paradigm shifts. So I’ll instead take the big idea of RtI down to something I can do on Monday. Please, feel free to include any experiences you have at your schools with RtI that have worked so we can learn from each other.*
RtI Strategies for School Psychologists in Secondary Schools
Big Idea #1: Become knowledgeable in curriculum-based measurement and academic interventions already in place at your school site. See what is being done and make it even better.
Realty: I have a general sense of what the academic interventions are for kids at my sites. They are pretty much remedial reading classes, computer-based interventions for targeting basic skills, and “in-class support” from intervention specialists and resource teacher. To my knowledge, there is no systematic curriculum-based measure for tracking progress other than grades. I could investigate further and offer consultation on how to track progress for target classrooms or students in a cute little graph with a trend line.
Big Idea #2: Think of your role as moving from “tester” to “intervention specialist.” Provide students with counseling, assist teachers with data collection, and consult with staff about appropriate academic interventions.
Reality: Dear God. When will I have time to intervene with anything while I’m only at my school one day a week and have to do testing? I suppose I can start with supplementing what I’m already doing. I already go to SSTs so I could meet with key SST team members, and write down every intervention available at our school site to identify gaps. It could be our “Menu of RtI Interventions.”** Then I could help my school site locate community-based organizations that may fill these gaps. And if our RtI Menu only has one appetizer, one main, and no dessert, then at least we will know what to advocate for down the road.
I could also procure a cloning machine, and clone self to have the time to be my school site’s RTI Consultant.*** If I locate such a machine, or get more days at my site, I will definitely consult with The RtI Wire.
Big Idea #3: Focus assessment on Curriculum-Based Measurements and RtI Interventions**
Reality: Our district still requires using the discrepancy model. So for initials, I could add a paragraph in my “background history” of my report on any RtI Interventions that have been attempted. If I’m feeling saucy, I can make a graph of curriculum-based interventions with trend lines, if said interventions have taken place. If not, refer back to Big Idea #2.
Triennials have a bit more leeway with what an assessment looks like if the kid has already been tested several times and the disability is well established. By the time the student is in 10th or 11th grade, it is less helpful for parents and teachers to know that the student still has an auditory processing deficit. They have known that since probably 3rd grade. Ask the parent what they are interested in knowing for the triennial and focus on that. For example, I had a parent who told me she could care less about the kid’s letter-number-sequencing abilities and cognitive test scores. She was worried about her son’s life after high school and if he could learn to fill out job applications and write cover letters. I focused the triennial on the student’s transition plan and work backwards to what can be done now.
*Don’t try to hide! I see your visiting and non-commenting ways. Don’t be scared, share your wealth o’ information!
**I know, the name “Menu of Response to Intervention Interventions” sounds like it came from the Department of Redundant Department, but “Menu of RtInterventions” sounds weird.
***Someone told me once that sarcasm is a form of anger, disguised as humor. Apparently, I’m bitter about the lack of mental health resources for children in our public schools.
Tuesday, 19 February 2008
Beware of the Scarlet P
“Penny Pingleton, you know you are punished. From now on you're wearing a giant P on your blouse EVERY DAY to school so that the whole world knows that Penny Pingleton is permanently, positively, punished!
Well that’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? Well this is clearly something that only happens in Full-Feature-Film-Turned-Tony-Award-Winning-Musicals-Turned-Full-Feature-Film.
OR DOES IT?
Sorry, there were photos here, but they had to go for privacy reasons. They were hideous, trust me. They were of a student's desk, which the teacher had covered with shameful sayings about the child's lack of self-control and how it was the child's fault for everything
Now I’ll be the first to warn my dear readers that I am not one for posting anything in the genre of “Lets Blame the Teacher for Educational Problems!” Most teachers I encounter are surprisingly positive given the fact that teaching pays $1 and teachers are bearing the brunt of the blame for public education under the No Child Left Behind law. I realize that there are millions of desks across the nation that do not have the proverbial “Scarlet P” on them.
But, I do feel compelled to discuss a phenomenon that does occur frequently in our schools, and that is punishment.
As many of you know, I’m a big fan of positive reinforcement. There are times though, that teachers must implement the rules and positive reinforcement is not sufficient: “Johnny, I like the way you only brandished the scissors and didn’t actually stab me. Good job!” “Judy, thank you for only calling me a b**** and not a f****ing b****.”
There are times when punishment is appropriate. I prefer to call it “discipline” because the latin root of discipline is “discere” which means “to learn.” In a sense, the punishment should be a learning opportunity. The learning experience should fit the “crime.” If a kid tags your desk with graffiti, they get to clean it off. If they threatened another student, they must go through some sort of corrective learning experience. The main problem with punishment and blame is that teachers rapidly run out of consequences for actions. To illustrate, here’s an interaction I saw daily at Haides Middle School.
Teacher: Sit down.
Student: No!
Teacher: Please, just sit down.
Student: No!
Teacher: If you don’t sit down, I’m going to call the office.
Student: I don’t care.
Teacher: You will get detention then.
Student: Fine, whatever.
Teacher: Well maybe you’d care if I called your mom!
Student: F*** You!
And there you go. Kid is definitely not in the mood to learn. Kid gets detention, negative call to mom, and has probably branded that teacher as “mean.” And now Teacher has mentally put a “P” on the kid for the day, if not for the week, or in the case of the teacher who put those awful things on that kid’s desk, for the rest of the year.
And here’s the real problem. Research on punishment shows that it may work in the short-term, but in the long-term, the punishments must get more and more severe to have the same effect. So basically, the effect of detention and calling mom will not have much of an effect after a while and the teacher will be out of things in her bag of tricks. Worse yet, the Penny Pingleton factor takes place and the cycle of negative interaction can ensue. Penny acts out, teacher punishes, Penny feels teacher doesn’t like her and acts out again, teacher punishes again, and so forth.
So how do you break the cycle? How do you mentally remove the “P” from that kid who is constantly disrespecting you? Teachers, feel free to comment on what you have found to work. Here are a few I’ve seen in the field:
1) Find out the function behind the behavior—is it task avoidance, attention-seeking, face-saving from difficult work, lack of sleep or food, difficulties understanding the task, not understanding English well enough to follow through, or some other factor? Do some detective work. And try to use “What” or “How” questions instead of “Why” (Why can sound blaming). What do you need to get started? How can I help you get started? You will get a better reaction than if you asked “Why haven’t you started yet?”
2) Put the student in a helping role when they are bugging you. Every teacher can see when Penny is about to do something problematic. Intercept it. “Penny, I need your help. Can you put stamps on all the kids’ papers if they did their homework?” (This is age-specific. Older kids may not be in to this idea for fear of being teacher’s pet.)
3) Put an empty jar on his/her desk and drop in a reward when you see the behavior you like. Label it as you go by. “Penny, I like how you are starting your work.” Or for an older kid, have some sort of nonverbal praise cue, such as tapping their desk if they are doing what they need to be doing.
4) Be sure to reward when the child redirects his/her behavior. So if she was talking off topic for a minute and then says something related to the topic, jump right in and praise her for her insightful contribution.
5) Reward successive approximations. I know, we want Penny to do all her homework, but give partial credit or set up an incentive system for improvement.*
6) Talk to other teachers. Consult with your school psychologist. Everyone has had a Penny in their classrooms or office. So many teachers I’ve worked with are so used to being helpers, they don’t ask for help.
7) Call the parent or caregiver when Penny has a good day or does her homework. Parents need reinforcement too, especially if most calls about Penny are negative.
8) Ah, but let her cover the mark as she will, the pang of it will be always in her heart. ~Nathaniel Hawthorn
In today's English: Long after that kid leaves her desk marked with the Scarlet P, she will remember how she felt to be a "Problem." Separate the the "problem behavior" from the "problem kid."
9) Take care of your own needs. This is a broad one that deserves an entire post if not a book. Self-care is essential. Remember that if you are in a positive space, you will project that in your classroom. If you are burned out, you may be more negative than you mean to be. Be the change you want to see in Penny!
*This is a tough sell for some teachers, who are worried that this isn’t fair when there are other kids doing their homework without incentives. I say that giving every kid what they need is fair. Think of it this way: If you had to increase sales to 100 widgets and that was the standard, it would be far more motivating when you got praised or paid for every 10 you sold, rather than punishing you or telling you to shape up until you got to the 100 widgets. Few people like to be "motivated" by fear of failure or punishment.
Friday, 15 February 2008
Ass-umptions
As I walked home today at the end of work, I overheard a man talking to my neighbor. I am a somewhat of an eavesdropper so I tuned in as I was walking by. I am also an eyevsdropper,* so I looked at what they were doing too. The man was leaning up on another neighbor’s car, which had a crate of bottles of Arizona Tea on top of it that were inadvertently left there. I had noticed the Tea bottles there when I left this morning, so they had been there a while. The two were gesturing to the items and were engaged in dialogue. I filled in the details in my head as I approached them, that the man was wondering what to do about the tea, if he could have one, if he should try to locate the neighbor to let them know, and he was soliciting the neighbor’s opinion.
How wrong I was.
As I got closer, I heard the conversation:
Man: Like I was saying, I really have to take a poop. You know how I am!
Neighbor: (unfazed) I know, I know, you’re just like me!
Me (in my head): ABORT! ABORT! Abort eavesdropping!
How many times in a day do we make assumptions that are completely wrong? How many times does this happen in the school system? I admit, I am sometimes guilty of this. I have to constantly check myself when I make assumptions about teachers, parents, and kids. I know I have looked at a kid in a classroom and jumped to conclusions about what’s going on for him. I have assigned motives to teachers and been totally wrong. I have made up reasons why a parent didn’t come to a meeting. I hear assumptions at work all the time about why certain kids aren’t learning. We all fill in the blanks with our own hypotheses.**
I remember a professor at Berkeley cautioned us against our assumptions about people. He used an example about making judgments that I still think about. He said that if we see a fat person eating a donut, we make an assumption that the person is fat because they eat donuts. But what if that is the first donut they’ve had in a year? What if they have actually lost 50 lbs already from their donut-free diet and were treating themselves that day? The point is, you never know.
So next time you are in a meeting at school, try to think of other ways to look at the current situation. If a parent didn’t show for a meeting, there could be hundreds of plausible reasons why not. I can’t assume that the reason I think they didn’t show is the correct one. Sometimes I lose sight of the fact that parents in low-income urban settings have many stressors that can keep them from coming to a meeting. It probably doesn’t help that we educators tend to make appointments for the middle of the day or at 3:30. Could it be they can’t take off work in the middle of the day? Might they even have a car to get to us? Maybe they worked a double shift and couldn’t make it? We cannot assume their not showing is always avoidance.
I mean, if I can be so wrong about what seemed to be a completely obvious interaction, I would be presumptuous to assume that I know the motives behind people’s behavior without probing into other ways to look at the situation. Today’s interaction reinforced my goal of not jumping to conclusions. Today’s interaction also taught me that I have inadvertently been left off of the neighborhood association’s memo list, as I did not get the memo that discussion of fecal matter has now moved into the “Acceptable Neighbor Small-Talk” category.
I think I’ll still stick to platitudes about the weather.
*What? It could be a word for sneakily looking at people.
**If you are interested in more info about this, the book “Stumbling Into Happiness” byD Daniel Gilbert has a chapter on the “blind spots” we all have, literally, in our visual perception, and in our perceptions of the world.
How wrong I was.
As I got closer, I heard the conversation:
Man: Like I was saying, I really have to take a poop. You know how I am!
Neighbor: (unfazed) I know, I know, you’re just like me!
Me (in my head): ABORT! ABORT! Abort eavesdropping!
How many times in a day do we make assumptions that are completely wrong? How many times does this happen in the school system? I admit, I am sometimes guilty of this. I have to constantly check myself when I make assumptions about teachers, parents, and kids. I know I have looked at a kid in a classroom and jumped to conclusions about what’s going on for him. I have assigned motives to teachers and been totally wrong. I have made up reasons why a parent didn’t come to a meeting. I hear assumptions at work all the time about why certain kids aren’t learning. We all fill in the blanks with our own hypotheses.**
I remember a professor at Berkeley cautioned us against our assumptions about people. He used an example about making judgments that I still think about. He said that if we see a fat person eating a donut, we make an assumption that the person is fat because they eat donuts. But what if that is the first donut they’ve had in a year? What if they have actually lost 50 lbs already from their donut-free diet and were treating themselves that day? The point is, you never know.
So next time you are in a meeting at school, try to think of other ways to look at the current situation. If a parent didn’t show for a meeting, there could be hundreds of plausible reasons why not. I can’t assume that the reason I think they didn’t show is the correct one. Sometimes I lose sight of the fact that parents in low-income urban settings have many stressors that can keep them from coming to a meeting. It probably doesn’t help that we educators tend to make appointments for the middle of the day or at 3:30. Could it be they can’t take off work in the middle of the day? Might they even have a car to get to us? Maybe they worked a double shift and couldn’t make it? We cannot assume their not showing is always avoidance.
I mean, if I can be so wrong about what seemed to be a completely obvious interaction, I would be presumptuous to assume that I know the motives behind people’s behavior without probing into other ways to look at the situation. Today’s interaction reinforced my goal of not jumping to conclusions. Today’s interaction also taught me that I have inadvertently been left off of the neighborhood association’s memo list, as I did not get the memo that discussion of fecal matter has now moved into the “Acceptable Neighbor Small-Talk” category.
I think I’ll still stick to platitudes about the weather.
*What? It could be a word for sneakily looking at people.
**If you are interested in more info about this, the book “Stumbling Into Happiness” byD Daniel Gilbert has a chapter on the “blind spots” we all have, literally, in our visual perception, and in our perceptions of the world.
Saturday, 9 February 2008
The Newbie
I feel compelled to write about Dante’s 10th Canto of Hell, otherwise known as my first year as a school psychologist. I’ve been getting many emails lately about how to survive this first year in the field.
Every year as a school psychologist in an urban school is a dog-year of learning. So I have been in the field for over 42+ years. That first year, I learned something I was doing wrong every 20 minutes. As a perfectionist graduate student, armed with disseratation about the resilience of low-income adolescent students, this was difficult. But I had unbridled enthusiasm and optimism. My Idealist Self was ready to go!
You know where this story is going. There were three main things my first year that nearly made me quit and move to Costa Rica for a simpler life:
1) Bureaucracy
I had a hideous experience with HR and should have known then that the large urban school district would be sending me bureaucratic nonsense for the rest of my career. The key is how you deal with it. My HR issue was that my paycheck had someone else’s social security number, retirement, and sick days. I could have retired on my first day.* I foolishly thought talking to HR about it would be sufficient. Fast forward to 8 months later, problem not resolved, and me doing a sit down strike with my strongly-worded letter documenting everything (in angry-looking font) until they fixed it.
However, I was 22 years old at the time and nothing could stop me from Saving The Children from the perils of becoming an instructional casualty in the urban jungle war! So I just showed up every day with a mental clean slate from the previous day, and focused on one kid at time. This became problematic when
2) My Caseload of Students Exponentially Multiplied Every 2 Minutes
I had a list a mile long of evaluations I needed to complete within a timeline that could only work if the school day was extended to 24 hours. So I sought help from my wonderful supervisor. She problem-solved with me that I was getting sucked in to the school culture by doing nonstop consultation. I wanted to answer every teacher’s and every parent’s question, meet with every kid who had been kicked out of class, and develop new and improved school programs with the administration.
While this is all important, the lesson I learned is to spend the first 2-3 hours of the day testing kids or writing reports. No exceptions. I had to learn to say, “I’m testing right now, so I can’t consult until later.” The beauty was, most people’s problems went away by the afternoon, because they had figured them out themselves. Unfortunately, in my absence, sometimes that "solution" was to make a special education referral without consulting me.
New psychs: Be patient. It took FOUR years to get the staff on board with the idea that we didn’t need to refer every child with academic or behavioral needs to special education “just to rule out a disability.” I had so much paperwork involved when there was an inappropriate referral it was ridiculous. Some parents didn’t even know that what they signed was permission for testing. One parent’s kid had a 4.0 and that kid was referred because she "talked out in class." Another kid was referred and he had been tested 6 months prior and didn’t qualify.
My point is, what seems like basic logic to a school psychologist has to be explicitly told to the staff. I appreciate that the staff just wants a kid to be helped, but special education is not an appropriate first course of action, 9 times out of 10. After the first year or so of un-doing people’s paperwork mess, I finally got down my catch-phrase on how to stop the flood of inappropriate referrals: “Out of professional courtesy, if you think a child needs special education, please come to me to consult first before making the referral. I would never legally bind you to a 3-month project without running it by you first, and I’d appreciate the same courtesy.” That is hard to say as a 22-year old intern, but it worked.
3) Then My Ideal Self Fell from Ivory Tower and Hit Every Gargoyle of Hope on the Way
My next “challenge” was that I had to put my ideas for program improvement on the back burner in lieu of assessments. I so desperately wanted to re-vamp the entire service-delivery model based on the “Best Practices” I had learned in grad school. Every attempt to do so was met with “Yeah! Let’s do that!” and then, “I don’t have time though, can you do that?” Other times, people acted like my proposal to do primary prevention was crazy. What can I say, people fear change. It was disheartening. I felt like I was putting out fires every day, but what really needed to happen at HMS** was someone needed to re-do all the wiring to prevent the fires in the first place.
Every year got easier. I made tiny inroads into changing the system of “wait to fail until they are behind enough to qualify for special education.” I started a Math RTI group. I developed a "Talent Group" for kids with ADD to channel their energy for good, not evil. My own personal fight became cutting through the bureaucracy for parents. There was a 42789897-step referral process, and it could have been 1 or 2. But it took me four years to figure all this out. So young psychs, be patient. Every year get better. You understand the system a little more each year, and which steps can be cut out, and which ones are necessary. In the meantime, I cannot emphasize enough to consult, consult, consult with your supervisor and colleagues. And get a hobby outside of trying to save the children. You will need to take care of yourself like you would take care of someone coming to you for help.
So what happened to my Idealist Self from grad school who fell from the Ivory Tower? Well, she was in critical condition for about a year. The field of School Psychology almost lost her. Then she went through the ICU with the help of her colleagues, friends, family, and patient fiancé. I’m glad to report Idealist Self is in Stable Condition now, and getting stronger every day.
*Curses! If only I had no scruples, I’d be in the south of France right now.
**Haides Middle School
Every year as a school psychologist in an urban school is a dog-year of learning. So I have been in the field for over 42+ years. That first year, I learned something I was doing wrong every 20 minutes. As a perfectionist graduate student, armed with disseratation about the resilience of low-income adolescent students, this was difficult. But I had unbridled enthusiasm and optimism. My Idealist Self was ready to go!
You know where this story is going. There were three main things my first year that nearly made me quit and move to Costa Rica for a simpler life:
1) Bureaucracy
I had a hideous experience with HR and should have known then that the large urban school district would be sending me bureaucratic nonsense for the rest of my career. The key is how you deal with it. My HR issue was that my paycheck had someone else’s social security number, retirement, and sick days. I could have retired on my first day.* I foolishly thought talking to HR about it would be sufficient. Fast forward to 8 months later, problem not resolved, and me doing a sit down strike with my strongly-worded letter documenting everything (in angry-looking font) until they fixed it.
However, I was 22 years old at the time and nothing could stop me from Saving The Children from the perils of becoming an instructional casualty in the urban jungle war! So I just showed up every day with a mental clean slate from the previous day, and focused on one kid at time. This became problematic when
2) My Caseload of Students Exponentially Multiplied Every 2 Minutes
I had a list a mile long of evaluations I needed to complete within a timeline that could only work if the school day was extended to 24 hours. So I sought help from my wonderful supervisor. She problem-solved with me that I was getting sucked in to the school culture by doing nonstop consultation. I wanted to answer every teacher’s and every parent’s question, meet with every kid who had been kicked out of class, and develop new and improved school programs with the administration.
While this is all important, the lesson I learned is to spend the first 2-3 hours of the day testing kids or writing reports. No exceptions. I had to learn to say, “I’m testing right now, so I can’t consult until later.” The beauty was, most people’s problems went away by the afternoon, because they had figured them out themselves. Unfortunately, in my absence, sometimes that "solution" was to make a special education referral without consulting me.
New psychs: Be patient. It took FOUR years to get the staff on board with the idea that we didn’t need to refer every child with academic or behavioral needs to special education “just to rule out a disability.” I had so much paperwork involved when there was an inappropriate referral it was ridiculous. Some parents didn’t even know that what they signed was permission for testing. One parent’s kid had a 4.0 and that kid was referred because she "talked out in class." Another kid was referred and he had been tested 6 months prior and didn’t qualify.
My point is, what seems like basic logic to a school psychologist has to be explicitly told to the staff. I appreciate that the staff just wants a kid to be helped, but special education is not an appropriate first course of action, 9 times out of 10. After the first year or so of un-doing people’s paperwork mess, I finally got down my catch-phrase on how to stop the flood of inappropriate referrals: “Out of professional courtesy, if you think a child needs special education, please come to me to consult first before making the referral. I would never legally bind you to a 3-month project without running it by you first, and I’d appreciate the same courtesy.” That is hard to say as a 22-year old intern, but it worked.
3) Then My Ideal Self Fell from Ivory Tower and Hit Every Gargoyle of Hope on the Way
My next “challenge” was that I had to put my ideas for program improvement on the back burner in lieu of assessments. I so desperately wanted to re-vamp the entire service-delivery model based on the “Best Practices” I had learned in grad school. Every attempt to do so was met with “Yeah! Let’s do that!” and then, “I don’t have time though, can you do that?” Other times, people acted like my proposal to do primary prevention was crazy. What can I say, people fear change. It was disheartening. I felt like I was putting out fires every day, but what really needed to happen at HMS** was someone needed to re-do all the wiring to prevent the fires in the first place.
Every year got easier. I made tiny inroads into changing the system of “wait to fail until they are behind enough to qualify for special education.” I started a Math RTI group. I developed a "Talent Group" for kids with ADD to channel their energy for good, not evil. My own personal fight became cutting through the bureaucracy for parents. There was a 42789897-step referral process, and it could have been 1 or 2. But it took me four years to figure all this out. So young psychs, be patient. Every year get better. You understand the system a little more each year, and which steps can be cut out, and which ones are necessary. In the meantime, I cannot emphasize enough to consult, consult, consult with your supervisor and colleagues. And get a hobby outside of trying to save the children. You will need to take care of yourself like you would take care of someone coming to you for help.
So what happened to my Idealist Self from grad school who fell from the Ivory Tower? Well, she was in critical condition for about a year. The field of School Psychology almost lost her. Then she went through the ICU with the help of her colleagues, friends, family, and patient fiancé. I’m glad to report Idealist Self is in Stable Condition now, and getting stronger every day.
*Curses! If only I had no scruples, I’d be in the south of France right now.
**Haides Middle School
Saturday, 2 February 2008
All Aboard the Principal Train!
I have tremendous respect for Principals. I have no idea how they do it. When I get assigned a new school, I do my best to get to know the Principal. Unfortunately, they are usually so busy that our interactions are brief and future interactions are usually when one of my students is in serious trouble. I have a hard time being a disciplinarian. I usually play the good cop to the principal's bad cop.
Principal: Your behavior is unacceptable and now you will be suspended.
Kid: [some sort of denial, protest, or expletives and displacement of anger upon Principal ensues]
Me: You must have been really angry to brandish those scissors. What's going on for you?
Kid: [some sort of honest reflection ensues]
See how good cop is so much easier?
My brother-in-law is a Principal of a high school in the Midwest. One night our family friend and retired teacher Stella, came over for dinner. Stella was a special day class teacher for a self-contained classroom of Emotionally Disturbed high school students in a poor part of town. Somehow, she lasted 30 years in this role. As the final touches of dinner were being made by my sister, Stella peered at a framed photo taken of my brother-in-law at a Train Museum. It was from the period of time when my nephew was going through his Thomas the Train stage. He was standing in front of a gorgeous, bright yellow locomotive.
Stella glanced at the picture and wryly remarked, “If I was a Principal, I’d put myself in front of a train too. Only I’d be standing the other way so I would know that relief was coming.”
Principal: Your behavior is unacceptable and now you will be suspended.
Kid: [some sort of denial, protest, or expletives and displacement of anger upon Principal ensues]
Me: You must have been really angry to brandish those scissors. What's going on for you?
Kid: [some sort of honest reflection ensues]
See how good cop is so much easier?
My brother-in-law is a Principal of a high school in the Midwest. One night our family friend and retired teacher Stella, came over for dinner. Stella was a special day class teacher for a self-contained classroom of Emotionally Disturbed high school students in a poor part of town. Somehow, she lasted 30 years in this role. As the final touches of dinner were being made by my sister, Stella peered at a framed photo taken of my brother-in-law at a Train Museum. It was from the period of time when my nephew was going through his Thomas the Train stage. He was standing in front of a gorgeous, bright yellow locomotive.
Stella glanced at the picture and wryly remarked, “If I was a Principal, I’d put myself in front of a train too. Only I’d be standing the other way so I would know that relief was coming.”
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