I’ve Got My Eye on You, Oral Language Skills.

In my free time, I have been writing curriculum designed to teach beginning special education teachers what they need to know about teaching students with special needs. I am on page 600 and have 4 more sessions to write. I mean, there is a LOT that teachers need to know. I don’t know how you people do it. And I have been trying to condense it all into 16 sessions. Good times.

Recently, I finished the session on oral language and through the process, realized that oral language seems to be the slightly ignored stepchild of the English Language Arts domain. I mean, when you think of language arts, you think of reading and writing, right? But what about oral language? It is so important! It is often neglected in psychoeduational assessments as well, unless it is wrapped up in general language processing.

Oral language is not just speaking. It is a large set of skills that encompasses listening comprehension, understanding and producing complex language, vocabulary and word knowledge, grammatical knowledge, phonological skills, and so much more. Allow me to illustrate how oral language skills are necessary for comprehension by confessing something embarrassing.

I am the worst at deciphering song lyrics. My best friend, Kendra, however, should be on that game show “Don’t Forget the Lyrics.” She was always my first choice in picking teams for Songburst. And when I can’t figure out what a song is saying, I call her.

Some embarrassing examples:

1) I was singing along with Kendra to the song “One” by U2, and belted out, “Love is a tent pole, love’s a higher love!” and she said, “Um, don’t you mean that love is a temple, love’s a higher law?” Ah yes, that makes more sense.

2) I was car singing (as I do) to Sean Kingson’s new song, “Replay” and I actually sang:

Shawty’s like a melody in my head,
That I can’t keep out
Got me singing like, la la la la every day,
Like an eyeball stuck on my plate, my plate.

Scrrrreeeeech (record scratches). Wait, what? That doesn’t make sense. But that’s exactly what it sounded like to me. I knew it could not be right (because of oral language skills, of course), but no matter how many times I heard it, I still heard eyeball stuck on my plate, my plate. Good thing my radio station plays this song like la la la la every day, because I finally got it…it’s like my iPod stuck on replay, replay.” Much more romantic than my eyeball lyric.*

Wait, what was my point? Ah yes, oral language. If one has a strong vocabulary and strong grammatical and semantic knowledge (how words go together and make meaning) then you are better able to understand what you read and produce written words. Let’s take another example. If you have ever studied a foreign language, you know that having limited vocabulary can significantly impair your ability to understand what you read. If you read “Tengo que practicar Espanol. Voy a charlar con mi amiga todos los dias” and you did not know the phrase “Tengo que” or the words “charlar” and “todos,” you would read, “Something to practice Spanish. I’m going to something with my friend something the days.” Say what?

Not having solid oral language skills can also impair writing. I always sound a little bit like Tonto when I write in Spanish, and/or super limited in my knowledge, because I avoid words I don’t know. Which sentence is better?

The student is exhibiting some symptoms associated with depression.

Or

The student is being sad.

The latter sentence is about what I could produce in Spanish, with my limited vocabulary and oral language skills. I love nuance, and it just doesn’t work well without strong oral language skills. The same is true for our students who come with limited “academic” vocabulary or limited English.

So how can we promote oral language in the classroom and at home to give students the building blocks for reading and writing? I’m glad you asked. Here are a few strategies that span the grades; Some can be modified to be easier or harder, depending on what you teach. Some are from the New Teacher Project, some are classics, and I hope you can offer some more as well!

A Few Strategies for Building Oral Language Skills

1) Show and Tell. A classic for elementary students! Students bring an item from home that they want to talk about and there is a precious question and answer session that ensues.

2) Daily Oral Language (D.O.L.) Traditionally, this is an activity where each day, there is a prompt written on the board for students, such as a sentence written with incorrect grammar for students to correct individually. I prefer to have the students create grammatically correct sentences in small groups (like their tables or with a partner). For example, you could give the words “Since” “Robert” and “party” and have the students come up with a grammatically correct sentence and discuss as a whole group. Another example is to pre-teach a vocabulary word that you will use that day or in the next lesson. Show the vocabulary word and have students talk about its meaning together in a small group and have them draw a group picture representing that word. Share out with the large group. You can have kids draw the vocabulary word on a post-it and then stick it on the board next to the word.

3) Dramatic Vocabulary. This one is from my good friend, Beth, who taught 9th grade English. I think middle school kids could do it too. It’s kind of like vocabulary charades. The students get in a circle and the teacher has a set of cards with that week’s vocabulary words on them (the students can make these cards in groups before the activity for added learning). The teacher pulls a card and gives it to one student, who must act out the vocabulary word for the other students to guess. After it is correctly guessed, the students say, spell, and write the definition of the word together on the board.

4) Word Wall. Also a classic! I think it is used mostly in elementary and middle school, but I can see its value in secondary classrooms with added elements, such as grouping by prefix, suffix, roots, etc. Basically, it is a wall of words that are frequently used in the classroom that are posted for easy reference. Teachers, feel free to comment on how you elaborate on the classic Word Wall.

5) Debates and “Take A Stand” activities. You can start out by providing a prompt for a related lesson, such as “Every student should wear uniforms to school” for a lesson on persuasive writing. Place a line of masking tape in your classroom that ranges from “strongly agree” to “strongly disagree” with “not sure” in the middle. Have students “take a stand” on where they fall on the continuum. Then, group the students to form teams for a debate on the issue (“not sure” kids can be equally divided or be their own group). From there, you can provide reading materials for the students to support their argument, or begin a research project for students to find their own material for a debate.

6) Listening Activities. For the little ones, I like the classic game “telephone” where the kids get in a circle and the teacher whispers a sentence to the first kid, and they have to whisper the sentence to the next kid. The goal is to have the sentence be in tact at the end. It never is. Hilarity ensues. For older students, teaching listening skills can be in the form of teaching good note-taking skills during lecture. Give the class a list of key phrases that they want to listen for in a lecture such as, “This is important..”, “One of the main things…” “The first thing you have to do is…, etc”, “You will need to know…” To begin, you could ring a little bell or something when you use the key phrase, then transfer that job to a student.

7) Fancy Tech Stuff I must admit, there are many many tech applications that frighten me with their newfangledness. However, I really think that we should be harnessing the students' natural interest in tech and social media. Maybe kids across the country could Sykpe-talk to each other about an issue/project/modern day pen pal thingy, build a personal word or spelling dictionary in their iPhones/iTouches, find an App for site words (there's an app for that!), making a classroom Podcast, etc.

8) Consult with your Speech Language Pathologist. These people know oral language and will have good suggestions for students. My SLP friend says that "written language (reading/ writing) is overlaid on oral language skills so it is very rare for a student with poor oral skills to read or write with a level of proficiency - yet we rarely focus on increasing oral skills when difficulties are noticed with written language." Amen sister. Go consult with these people. They are fabulous.

9) You tell me! I want you to practice your oral language skills too. Meanwhile, I will work on my lyrical analysis skills. ☺

*In general, I avoid the word “eyeball”. I think it sounds gross. Perhaps I have PTSD from when I had to dissect a sheep eyeball in order to study visual perception in school. Bleh.

Back AWAY from the scooter. I’m a professional.

Scene: It is a sunny day, 4 children and one psychologist are seated outside at the lunch tables of a nonpublic school for children with emotional disturbance. Birds are chirping.

Aaand….Action.
Three of the four children are eating bologna sandwiches. The fourth child looks at the sandwich and screams, “I hate this sh*%!” and throws said sandwich at psychologist.

Psychologist wipes bologna and mayo off of face and says, “I see that you do not like your sandwich. It’s okay to not like bologna, but it is not okay to throw food. Can you use your words instead?”

Bologna Hater jumps up and runs for a Razor Scooter.

Camera pans to psychologist’s terrified face and ominous music plays: dun dun dun

Psychologist leaps up and says, “Scooters are for riding, not throwing. Put down the….

Scooter is thrown at psychologist

Aaaaaaand Cut.

Questions from the audience?

Yes, you….No, I do not have a future in script writing.
Young lady in the front?...Yes, this really happened to me.
The gentleman in the back...No, thankfully no stitches required.
And last question?...Yes, bologna is a vile meat, I should have known better.

So there you have a dramatic reenactment of me trying to de-escalate an emotionally disturbed child. What the scene didn’t let you in on is that this little guy was a foster youth who had just had a supervised visit from his mother that had not gone well, and his reaction had little to do with the processed meat. This example stands out in my mind only because it is one of the few times I have been unsuccessful in talking down an angry kid from becoming violent.

Not to toot my own horn or anything (too late), but there are few kids who I can’t get to comply with instructions. My tips aren’t foolproof, but they have worked on more occasions than not. And since my last post about getting bitten resulted in requests for some tips for de-escalating students who are angry, here you go:

1) Prevention, prevention, prevention. Rarely does aggression come out of nowhere (even bologna can be a trigger, apparently) Usually, aggression comes from frustration, internal stress that has been activated, provocation from others, and/or a desire to regain control over a situation. Try to see what is underlying the anger and intercept it.

2) Anticipate, anticipate, anticipate. If you see a child becoming increasingly upset, intervene early in the chain of events. Understand that verbal aggression is the “gateway” to physical aggression. If you hear anything about anyone’s momma, intervene swiftly and redirect. “That’s not appropriate language for class. I need you to use respectful language. This is a warning. If I hear it again, you both will receive a classroom service.”

2) Anticipate when the child may have external factors that will impact his or her ability to control his or her anger. For kids with turmulteous home lives, they often cannot check their anger at the school door. For vulnerable students, provide a brief, private, check-in before class and give them a replacement behavior for acting out in advance. “I know you had a rough weekend. If you find yourself getting upset, then you can use this pass to take a break for 5 minutes.”

3) If prevention and anticipation are not sufficient, then we move to Defcon 3: Talking a kid down once they have already escalated a bit. This may look like the student grumbling, cursing under his or her breath, pushing something, etc. First, try to redirect privately if possible. There is a lot of secondary gain (usually attention) from acting out. In close physical proximity, acknowledge the anger. “I know that makes you angry when Joey talks about your mom. He will have a consequence for that. I need you to take a deep breath. Then, you can choose to take a quick break outside or go in the reading corner to relax. It’s up to you.” That way, the kid feels validated, and has a face-saving way to pull it together again.

4) Defcon 4: You try the private conversation and the kid escalates (shouts profanity at you, says he doesn’t care, or postures toward you or another student). In a business-like but firm tone, tell the student you need to speak with him or her outside for a moment. You could say something like, “I see that you are very upset. For your safety, we are going to step outside for a moment. This is your chance to turn it around so I can tell your parents how well you controlled your anger today.” Model calm. If you get worked up, it will likely escalate the situation.

5) Defcon 5: If the student refuses to see you privately outside, intervene in the chain of events you have set out in your classroom already (e.g. warning, classroom service, detention, call home). You can also call for backup at this point. There is nothing worse than being in a classroom alone with an aggressive student. If your phone doesn’t work (you can tell I work in schools where this can happen), and you have an aggressive child, move the calm children out. It is far easier to get 20 calm kids out the door than one out-of-control child. Say, “Children, for your safety, we are all going to step outside in the hallway while Jeffrey calms down.”

6) And most importantly, never serve an angry child bologna. Just don’t do it.

Thrice Bitten, Not Shy.

I posted once on my Facebook Fan Page that I was "writing reports, which is the non-glamorous side of school psychology." One of my wonderful colleagues wrote back, "Wait, there's a glamorous side???"

Okay, so there's not really a glamorous side, but I try to tell the cyberworld the truth of this profession--the warm fuzzies, the cold pricklies, and the insane. I don't want to sugar coat how hard this job is, though I try to write about the positive stuff as much as possible.


Recently, I've been getting lots of emails asking me what experience would be good for preparing one's self for graduate school in school psychology, and being a school psychologist. Being biased toward my own experience, I say that you should work with kids with special needs before deciding on this career. The best training I ever got was before grad school, working in a group home for developmentally disabled adolescents, and then during grad school, in a home for emotionally disturbed kids. I figured, if I work with the most difficult to manage students, I could handle any kid that comes in my office after that. I was, for the most part, correct. After getting stitches for having a scooter thrown at my head, managing kids who threw objects or bit me, I can handle a surly teen who doesn't feel like doing my tests. I also have an expansive verbal repertoire for redirecting behavior: "Stoves are for cooking, not throwing, Jeffry," "Climb on the play set, not the roof, John," and "Sorry, we can't push the lawnmower to Safeway. Shall we push a stroller instead?" So glamorous, right?

Since working with students with disabilities over the past 9 years, I have been able to keep myself safe from severe situations except on three occasions*:

Bite #1: I was working in a group home for adolescents with developmental disabilities. The ”OJ is going to jail!” kid always went home on Friday afternoons with his grandmother. This Friday, his grandmother had cancelled. Kid shows me his suitcase and says, “Grandma is coming.” I tell him for the 10th time that day that Grandma is coming next week, and he screams and bites the back of my right hand and won’t let go. Why the right hand? I need that one, buddy. No one is around to help me. I tell him to let go. He doesn’t. I tell him to sit down (I don’t know why) and to my surprise, he sits down and releases my hand. I cry. He says, “Grandma is coming” and plays with the buckle on his suitcase.

Bite #2: Working with a 6 year old who has severe language issues and is possibly on the autism spectrum. I ask him, “What color is the sky?” and he sniffs my face, then arm, and then gently bites my arm. I say, “Can you tell me what you are thinking about instead of biting my arm?” He says, “this game is too hard.”

Bite #3: Trying to test a 9 year old boy in foster care, who is severely inattentive and impulsive. I present him blocks. Blocks get thrown. I present copying. Pencil gets thrown. I try a talking game (ha! No objects! You can throw all the words you want!). He leaps out of his chair, starts crawling on the ground, snarling, and says, “I’m a mean, mean, dinosaur! Run away from me.” I say, “you look like a nice dinosaur to me.” He says, “No! Play my game, I’m bad!” I peer down at him and he swipes at me and then bites my ankle. I take a breath, ankle throbbing and say, “Actually, I have studied dinosaurs for many years now and you appear to have all the features of the Nice-a-saurus Rex who happens to be angry right now.” He giggles and gets back in his chair and starts working. I pretend my ankle doesn’t hurt and try to recall when I got my last Hepatitis B shot.

What are the lessons from these incidents?

1) If you want to work as a school psychologist, make sure you have your Hep B shot current.

2) Be prepared that every so often, you may get a surprise bite, or have an object thrown at you. If you work with severe needs kids, it could happen. Working in a group home is a good way to get on the job training so you can handle any kid who comes in your office.

3)The majority of kids school psychologists work with are not severe needs students, but you don't get to pick who gets referred to you. Get experience working with all kids, and you'll be much more comfortable in your role.

4)In 99.9% of situations, you can prevent acting out with good de-escalation techniques.**

5)Most importantly,the kids who act out are often trying to communicate something to you by biting, hitting, or throwing, that they cannot put into words—-they are disappointed, the work is too hard, or they feel like a bad kid. Try not to take it personally and work with the kids, parents, and staff to teach them alternative ways to communicate.

I hope I have not frightened anyone from the profession. But you gotta hear the non-glam side too...

*Three times in nine years isn't so bad, right? Who doesn't deserve a good triennial injury?
**You want a post on this? Lemmie know!

Where is My Jumping to Conclusions Mat?

I have written before about the dangers of eavesdropping and making assumptions. I now turn to a favorite movie, Office Space, to illustrate the dangers of jumping to conclusions when you are a school psychologist.

I really could have used this mat the other day to remind myself how lame it is to jump to conclusions. In the words of Tom Smykowski, from the movie Office Space: “You see, it would be this mat that you would put on the floor… and would have different CONCLUSIONS written on it that you could JUMP TO.” Brilliant.

Not knowing much about gangs and how they all work, I strive to have the kids explain it without jumping to my own conclusions. With each student I talk with, I learn a bit more about the intricacies and inter-workings of gang recruitment in middle and high school--the difference between “being jumped” and “being jumped into,”* the differences between wearing a red belt and wearing a red belt, and the tragedy when a kid “dies for a color.”Gang life is so ingrained in the culture of my students, whether they are in a gang or not. It even filters down to tagging graffiti in the name of Obama.

Back to my tale of jumping to conclusions. I suppose that after 56 years** of working as a school psychologist in large urban school districts, the frame of gang prevention is thoroughly engrained in me. This is why when I learned that one of my high school students I am counseling jumped another one of my high school students I am counseling into a gang over the holiday, I freaked out. And I’m pretty unfreakoutable.

I had been talking to both of them about the decisions they had to make about pursuing their goals or joining a gang. Both were teetering on the edge of joining and felt trapped. One kid was possibly already affiliated but afraid to tell me. When I first heard about the jumping in incident, I jumped to the conclusion that these kids were now mixed up in something deadly and freaked out. Luckily, I was scheduled to see both of them that day. I pushed my freakoutdeness aside and calmly asked each of them separately, "So, what's new?" And then I listened.

I can’t go into detail and I’ve changed some of the language because of confidentiality, but I will say that my freak-out level was significantly reduced when I found out what “gang” it was. It was S.O.J.

What is this nefarious S.O.J? Not the new rap singer who might be a second cousin to the Notorious BIG. I found out that it means “Soccer Over Jail.”

Let’s take a moment to ponder the interworkings of 9th grade minds constantly exposed to gang life. Instead of forming a soccer club or team of some sort, they decided that the best way to prove you loved soccer was to beat up new members. I bet the higher ups are wishing they didn’t give the soccer team the axe in budget cuts now.

There isn’t a real moral to this story, other than the obvious one: really listen to your students and not make assumptions about their behavior until you have their perspective. Was it wrong to beat someone up? Yes. Was the intention misguided? Yes. Are these juvenile delinquent gang kids? Not at this time...I hope. Maybe I'm naive, but I feel that what they truly want is to belong and have support. My interventions with these kids is going to be far different than the one I would have done had I used my “jumping to conclusions mat” and decided they were gang members. We’ll start with learning how to start a club appropriately and figure out how to get soccer back in their lives.


*From what I’ve gathered, “being jumped” is basically being beat up for the purpose of injury, to settle a score, or to get your money or property, and “being jumped in” means that you get beat up by the gang to prove you’re worthy of being in the gang. This is the filtered version from the perspective of a suburban white girl. I’m sure it’s more complex than that.

**Each year is a dog year of learning, so technically, I’m on year 8.

If You Love Glee so Much, Why Don’t You Marry it?

I think I will.

After a day of being a de-facto “lice-check line” monitor today at my elementary school, due to my unfortunate office juxtaposition, I really needed something fun to do this evening. I came home, psychosomatically itching all over (please, please be psychosomatic) and am delighted when I realize it’s Wednesday. Because Wednesday means that my night shall revolve around my favorite show, Glee.

How do I love Glee? Let me count the ways.


1) So funny. Love the counselor and her OCD. I love her outfits, love the Costco-sized hand sanitizer on her desk, love her pamphlets (e.g. “My mom has bipolar and won’t stop yelling”, "So, you like throwing up?"), love her.

2) Random and partially-random outbursts of singing and dancing as a form of expression for the yoots. You know how I love movies where dance is the key to overcoming adversity.

3) Portrays disabilities in a positive light. And the disabled character doesn’t saunter in for a very special episode, but a main character is in a wheelchair and several episodes have featured students with Downs Syndrome and deafness. They are portrayed as normal kids who happen to have disabilities. Their disabilities are not the core feature of their presence in the show.

My only complaint for all the Hollywood producers who read my blog (cough cough) is that there are no black male students as main characters in the show, and last week’s episode had a group of black girls who stole things. Not a good stereotype to be perpetuating.

Other than that, I love me some Glee and will be settling into my couch this evening to enjoy. Do join me, metaphorically speaking,* and let me know what you think!

*I do not have room for my 1s of 10s of loyal readers on my couch. Plus, my greyhound and wolf dog like to take up most of the space. Husband does not share the love of Glee. Humph!

Mindful Dishwashing and Rainbows

I once was forced to go to this professional development for psychologists on “teaching mindfulness,” which is basically the idea that kids (and adults) benefit from being aware and present. I have to say, I was really hoping for the latest brain-based research on the mind-body connection, because I love me some data. Instead, it was hours of us practicing out own mindfulness. During the busiest time of the year, we were taken through a series of activities such as breathing like rainbows, with arms outstretched in a slooooooow arc, and mindful walking. That’s right. Mindful walking. We all had to walk super sloooooooow and be really aware of how our foot felt touching the ground and whatnot. Let me tell you, I was mindfully texting the whole time, because I had a to-do list a mile long.

I’m afraid mindfulness is not for me. I find yoga too slow (next pose! next pose!) and I quit Tae Kwon Do after the first month because I just wanted to kick in some things and Master Kang insisted on a slow process where you have to have patience and stuff. And I certainly couldn’t relate to the presenter when she said, “I am so mindful, that when I put down the dish soap, I really feel it. It’s amazing.”

I have channeled all of my energy into my life and work, and school psychology appears to be a good match for me. Every day is different, there are tons of deadlines, crises, and things that have to be done right away. I go! go! go! All day long. There is no time for rainbows and walking super slow, thank you very much.

Well dang it if sometimes, the things we are resistant to actually end up being just what we need.* The very thing I rolled my eyes at at the "professional development" became pretty useful last night when I was in traffic on the San Francisco Bay Bridge trying to get home, with 8 hojillion people. After an hour, I had made it exactly one half mile towards my home. Every time I inched forward, a car would cut me off and I’d be in the same friggin’ spot. Then, a small snail surpassed me (in my mind) and I found myself getting increasingly annoyed. There was only crappy music on, and NPR had a lame guest. Then, I generously let this guy in my lane, in an effort to pay it forward and whatnot, and there was no “thank you” wave. RUDE. But, instead of getting even more upset, I took a breath, and started trying the mindfulness crap. I started by generating reasons for his rudeness, mindfully.

1) Perhaps his wife is in labor and he is trying to get to the hospital and is so distracted by his joy and anticipation that he is going to be a dad that he failed to notice my generosity.

2) Perhaps he lost his peripheral vision in his left eye in the Gulf War and did not see that I was so generous to let him in. A clear war hero deserves to get home .4 seconds before I do.

This went on and on in my head, and then I found myself laughing. On a roll, I started thinking of all the positive things I could think of in that moment, like the fact that I am in this car in a commute because I have a job in a recession. I was suddenly also mindful of being in my warm, toasty, comfy car. I became aware that a fabulous song had just came on the radio.** My mood lifted. I started singing and dancing to myself, and when I hit my crescendo, I suddenly became mindful that the people in the cars around me were staring at my erm…performance… and they were smiling. A guy gave me a thumbs up and laughed, and a motorcycle dude gave me a fist pump of approval. Mindfulness worked.

But I’m still not going to be mindful of the dishwashing soap as I clean up after Thanksgiving dinner. Old habits die hard, what can I say?


*Example: When my best friend tried to get me to join Facebook, I rolled my eyes and thought, “Why would I need to join that?” I stand corrected, Kendra. I love Facebook now. Especially the lively discussions that have ensued on the blog fan page recently. I will be sure to give thanks tomorrow on Thanksgiving if you stop by and become a fan!

**It wasn’t Air Supply’s classic ballad, “Making Love out of Nothing At All” if that’s what you’re getting at.

Sneakery! Again!

It is Friday the 13th. And it marks the end of School Psychology Awareness Week, which I totally forgot was this week, just like last year, and the year before. Gah! Every year! But I suppose today is technically still part of the week, so here you go with a post about what I do all day.

And just to be clear, my job description is NOT, as a janitor described to a kid inquiring who I was: “She works with ‘dem crazy kids.” That will NOT be next year’s theme for School Psychologist Awareness Week. I certainly don’t want to see a poster of that. School Psychologists: We work with ‘dem crazy kids. Bad PR.

So, in the spirit of awareness, I give to you:

Top 10 Things I Do All Day as a School Psychologist
(In decending order of how much time I spend doing it)

10) Tracking down the yoots*, aka poking my head into classrooms and trying not to be disruptive while children yell, “Take me! I need therapy!” or “I a’int no f*ing special ed! No!!!”

9) Tracking down teachers to talk about the yoots, trying to get information from them while they are desperately trying to prepare for having 20-30 little friends come in for some more learning.

8) Tracking down administration to ask about a particular yoot/situation/political issue/bureaucratic hoop.

7) Tracking down parents to get information or give them feedback about their yoot (carefully using caller ID blocking so they answer)

6) Group counseling. Trying to promote positive social skills and not accidentally forming a gang.

5) Individual counseling. Topics include: “What were you thinking about when you drew this/said that/did that/brought that,” family problems, peer problems, learning problems, check-ins about traumatic situations, and my favorite: giving positive adult attention and conducting play therapy to process situations.

4) Testing or observing the yoots for every possible reason on Earth that they are having a hard time learning—social, emotional, behavioral, processing, intelligence, situational, inter-personal, historical—everything.

3) Writing reports about yoots that no one reads, but are really informative if you can get past the technical stuff.

2) Attending meetings about yoots to share results of testing in a way everyone can understand to develop interventions.

1) Lovin’ working with ‘dem crazy kids.

Happy School Psychologist Awareness Week!

If I were fancier, I would have some sort of animation that made little confetti fall down over this entry. Maybe next year…if I don’t forget.

* Yoots (noun). Slang for “youth” derived from obscure reference to the classic film, “My Cousin Vinny.” The two yoots were seen fleeing the scene.

"Strategery"

Many of my posts are about the glamorous side of being a school psych, the fun n’ games dealing with bureaucracy monsters*, and the general tomfoolery of working in public education. I thought it was high time I offered up something actually useful for those of you in the trenches along with me, who sit in intervention meetings and everyone turns to you for the good suggestion.

For those who read for the cute stories and/or have a morbid curiosity about 10 year olds who pack heat in their backpacks (true story), we’ll see you next post!

For the hard core intervention peeps who believe in having a huge arsenal of weapons of mass instruction,** I give you:

Strategies for Students with Reading Comprehension Problems

Here’s a little side lesson about roots and suffixes before we begin.

Dys = abnormal or difficult

Lexia = word

So "Dys-lexia" is a reading disability that affects students at the word-level of reading. These are the kids who struggled with phonics in elementary, can’t decode multi-syllabic words easily in middle school, and laugh in high school when you ask, “do you ever read for fun?” because it is so laborious to try and decode every single word you come across. Their reading fluency is impaired and they lose the meaning. I tell my yoots: reading is like riding a bicycle—if you go too slow, you fall off. These students "fall off" in terms of comprehension because they are spending all their mental energy on decoding the individual words.

But there are other kinds of reading disabilities. There are the kids who can decode, but haven’t a clue what they just read. It is not unlike when you “read” a whole page in a book and then realize you didn’t really read it. The eyes were moving across the page, and the words were being "read," but there wasn’t any comprehension. These kids are typically really smart and they can articulate thoughts in class, but have a surprisingly low level of understanding what they read, given their intellect.

These kids (and all kids, really) benefit from a number of strategies for reading comprehension. Some of the strategies I pulled together from watching great teachers, some are "classics", and a few are from the New Teacher Project. Enjoy!

Rapid Reviewing
• Rapid reviewing improves both reading comprehension and memory
• After reading a section of text, students write down everything they can remember without looking back at the text.
• If they can’t remember at least 80% of the key points, they have read too much material before reviewing.
• They then reread the material and repeat the process until the key points can be recalled

Metacognitive Journals
• Students analyze their own thought processes in a journal, in which a page is divided into two columns separately titled: “What I learned,” and “How I came to learn it.” They record their thinking during and/or after reading
• The format can be modified with other prompts as well, such as “Passage/Text,” “What I think it means” and “Thoughts/Questions/Connections I had to the text”

The Insert Process/Marking the text
• Readers remain active while using symbols to represent their thoughts as they read, such as, “!” when you agree with the author, “?” for questions and “*” for new learning. Students can use sticky notes (Post-it notes) if they are unable to mark in the text.
• These markings should be revisited for further reflection/clarification after reading.
• A chart of possible symbols can be downloaded at http://www.readwritethink.org/lesson_images/lesson230/insert.pdf.

Questioning the Text/Author
• As readers notice the breakdown of meaning, they come up with questions to ask the author about the book for clarification and understanding.
• The questions are intended to help the reader better understand any confusing areas, and assists the reader in targeting appropriate strategies to repair meaning.

Graphic Organizers
• Graphic organizers are visual representations that show how key concepts are related and/or organized. They are important because they help readers visualize connections between ideas within the text and organize the new information.
• The visual representation and organization of information helps students build their text base and make sense of the text.
• Examples include problem/solution, statement/ support, sequence, cause/effect, compare/contrast, and argument.

KWL
In this strategy, students use a graphic organizer to establish:
• K- what they already know about the topic;
• W- what they want to know or learn about the topic;
• L- what they have learned after reading.

There are two popular modifications of the KWL teaching strategy:
• KWWL- what I know, what I want to know, where can I find the information, what I have learned
• KWLH- what I know, what I want to know, what I have learned, how I learned it

SQ3R
This strategy is an acronym for the five steps that comprise the strategy:
• S-Survey - students survey the reading material to develop an idea of its contents.
• Q-Question - students formulate questions about the text. These questions become their purpose for reading.
• R-Read - students read the text to answer the questions they formulated.
• R-Recite - students either jot notes about the text or discuss with a partner.
• R-Review - students review what they have learned by discussing their process with a partner and reviewing their notes. Finally, they answer their questions

Connection Chart
• This strategy calls for students to keep a running record of connections made as they read. Students are given a chart with three columns labeled for each of the different types of connection (text-to-self, text-to-world, text-to-text). As students read, they record their connections on sticky notes and place them in the appropriate column.

Using Social Networking for Character Analysis
• Students create a mock “Facebook” or “Myspace” page for a character in a book, a historical figure, or a current political figure.
• Students “characters” can interact, depending on if they would have been “friends” or not.
• This technique allows students to put themselves in the shoes of the characters and understand the underlying motivations, behaviors, etc.


*e.g. I called HR nine times yesterday to find out a simple thing. Nine times. No answer. Really? No voicemail there either? I guess they like the “While You Were Out” 1980s pink notes as much as my schools do. Which would be fine if they answered the phone to take a message. I’m gonna have to drive to the ‘hood tomorrow to ask a question, I just know it.

**Trenches and weapon metaphors in an education post? I guess it's my feeble attempt to make this post relevant to Veteran’s Day.

Making Lemonade, Blog Posts, and Whatnot

I accidentally got up at 6am today instead of 7am, and did not realize it until I was fully dressed, ready to go to school. Super. So in the interest of being a good time manager, I bring to you, my monthly post.*

I was recently assigned a new school, which I will affectionately call Stepford Elementary School. Now, I am typically assigned to the schools no one wants, by request. If someone makes a face like they are smelling something bad when I say the school’s name, all the better. I like being at cocktail parties and saying, “I coaxed a child wielding a knife down from a flagpole today. (Sips cocktail) How was your day?" I enjoy working with high-needs populations because I feel like I can make a difference. I can see kids whose parents are well-intentioned, but overwhelmed, and can not take breaks from their 3 jobs to take their child to a counselor or learning specialist. Sure, there is a lot of “action” at these schools, but I have seen principals work tirelessly to make these schools better for the kids, and there are a lot of really innovative ideas and programs that inspire me on a daily basis.

So you can imagine my surprise as I walk up to Stepford Elementary and hear a parent out front say, “You know, Douglas, I just really didn’t like the colonial architecture so we didn’t buy the 4-bedroom.” Where am I? Is this the same town? I had never this high up the hills of my urban district before. I was not in Kansas anymore (read Kansas with a Latino accent, please).

I am greeted by the secretary and directed to a fancy schmancy sign-in computer that logs your time of entry and prints out your nametag all pretty for you. For a non-educator, that doesn’t sound fancy, but trust me, usually there are 47 binders for signing in and you can’t find the one you need or a pen. I’m taken to my office, and there is a computer, an Internet connection, AND! AND! an electrical outlet. At my other school, I engage in this long trip wire situation across the auditorium to plug in my little space heater. It keeps it warm, and it keeps the kids from sneaking up on me.

As I visit classes, I hear the following:

“That homework was the funnest EVER!”

“Yea! Long Division!”

“This bookmark I’m making is for my business, AJ’s Bookmarks. EVERYONE has a business these days. Check me out at my website.” (from the mouth of a 10 year old, mind you)

“The PTA raised 2 million dollars for that building.”

“We have an emergency. Clara in second grade wrote something offensive.” (I read this offensive thing. I think I was using the wrong lens to interpret it because I was impressed that a) she wrote it on PAPER, not on public property! And b) she used correct punctuation in replacing the “g” on $%@$ing with an apostrophe. Good for you, Clara!)

And most peculiar of all: No one locks anything. I asked for the key to my office and they looked at me funny. The teachers just LEAVE THEIR PURSES BY THEIR DESKS. Envelopes collecting money are left on the doors of the classroom. Kids are raising their hands and politely saying brilliant things and making connections like, “This reminds me of when I lived in China for the summer and saw a Bengal Tiger.” What is going on here?

I felt like a kid visiting her rich aunt and uncle for the first time. Ooh! They have a POOL! (They do, by the way, also have a pool. The school. Not my aunt and uncle.). How can this school be in the same public school district as the others where I work? I obviously knew that some schools’ PTAs make up for the lack of district funding and can deliver better services, and I knew there was a difference between private and public, and yes, I've read 8 hojillion articles on the disparity in education, but I had forgotten how stark the contrast is until I saw it again with my own two eyes.

Sigh. Now what? I guess I’m off to my other school now to try to help my students achieve the same high standards even thought they didn’t have equal developmental conditions and they certainly don’t have equal schools.

Bitter, Party of 1? You’re table is ready. Who me? I’ll have lemonade. I’m going to figure out a way to make it better. No hero complex here. But if I start playing “Gansta’s Paradise” on the way to school and start fancying myself a Michelle Pfeiffer who will use radical teaching methods such as “listening”, in an effort to save the poor children, do slap me.

*I don’t mean to have a monthly post! I have been going down a shame spiral for not posting. But remember how I said if you didn’t hear from me for a while, I was probably not unlike that kitten hanging from a branch?

Free To Be You and Me (and Pee?)

A big part of my job is doing observations of kids in their learning environments. I find it shocking that there are psychologists who don’t visit the kid’s school when they are testing for learning disabilities, or any disability for that matter. To me, it seems like common sense that if you want to see how someone learns you go to where they learn all day. It would be like someone whose never seen you at work evaluating your job performance at your doctor’s office. There’s no context and you act differently. Recently, I had a school refuse to let me observe a child in their classroom when the referral is about the child’s attention problems in the classroom and classroom performance. Okay…I’ll just guess how he's doing in the classroom? *sigh*

However, another school allowed me to observe a little gal this week and I learned so much. Almost TOO much.

For all of you non-California, non-Bay Area peeps, there are some areas (coughcouchBerkeleycoughcough) and schools that really believe in letting children be free. Some of their schools are set up to be overly child-centered (read: permissive). I’m all about letting kids play and learn without super rigid regulations, but there are some rules needed. Kids need boundaries.

So you can imagine my surprise when I was observing a private school Kindergarten class playing on the schoolyard, and a little girl drops her pants and pees in the garden by the play structure. I was not even sent there to observe that girl, but clearly one’s eye gets drawn to a child squatting at recess. I turn to the director standing next to me, in horror, and she simply says with a neutral expression, “Oh, she’s peeing.” Doesn’t say a word to the girl, then, in the next breath, tells me how much the children love to “get messy here and just play in the dirt.” Right. With the urine. Neat. And with that, the little girl pulls up her pants and gets back on the swings and the director tells me it’s time for snack.

Well alrighty then. You just can’t get this kind of information when you see a kid in your nice little therapy office. Hm. I wonder why this other little gal I was observing at this same school has difficulties following rules at home...I mean, her parents must have some crazy rule that she has to pee in the toilet or something. Sheesh.

Finding the Proper Motivation

My dissertation was on adolescent motivation for school, and it has been read and enjoyed by ones of people. I was told when I graduated from UC Berkeley that every time someone downloaded my dissertation, I would get $1 in royalties. I have, to date, received $1.*

Because I am feeling generous today, I will give you the results for free, in one sentence. I will spare you the 118 beautiful pages of pure data and analysis that has riveted one reader to date.* Guess what?

Adolescents with positive relationships with their parents have better grades regardless if they are Mexican-American or White.**

Someone please, ALERT THE MEDIA about this.

I’m allowed to put the “dis” in my dissertation, because enough time has passed that I won’t take it personally that it could have been published in the Journal of Duh. But what I will say is that the results do influence my beliefs about my students. Sometimes, we think of adolescents as more influenced by their peers, but I’m here to tell you that even your most snarly disgruntled moody teen still wants his or her parents’ approval. I do this activity with adolescents where I give them a survey of things that might motivate them to do well in school. I swear, the number one “reward” or "motivator" they pick, no matter what age they are, is a positive call home to parents.

I know! So cheap! So easy! Why don’t we educators do this more often? It makes the kid feel good, and if you can manage to block the school’s number (so the parent picks up), and you can manage not to get hung up on when you say, “This is so-and-so from your son’s school…” (because they think their kid did something bad), it really works. Go on, give it a whirl this week.

And if you need more ideas for what makes a kid tick, try my fancy, non-researched-based, but helpful, Adolescent Motivation Survey with a kid and see how it goes.

Student: ____________________ Date: _________
Different students like different things. As your teacher/counselor, I hope to get to know you individually. This survey will help me understand what you like and don’t like about school, so I can work with you/your teachers to make school more enjoyable for you. There are no right or wrong answers, just complete the sentences with your ideas

1. In my free time, I like to….
2. If I had $5, I would buy…
3. The thing I like most about school is…
4. The thing I do not like about school is…
5. When my teachers pay attention to me…
6. When my classmates pay attention to me…
7. When I am frustrated, I like when teachers…
8. My favorite subject is…
9. My least favorite subject is…
10. I wish my teachers knew that…
11. After I finish my work, I like to…
12. When my teachers call my parents…
13. When I don’t want to do something in class, I…
14. You can tell when something is too hard for me because…
15. The behavior I am working on as a part of my IEP is…
16. The rewards I would like to earn are…

You might just be surprised at what you find. Last time I gave this, the kid had a Behavior Plan where the reward for doing his work was “praise from teacher” and he wrote “When my teachers pay attention to me….I hate it because my friends think I’m a teacher’s pet.” Not so rewarding. I guess it’s like giving black licorice as an incentive for increasing class participation.*** It could work for some people, some might find it absolutely vile and repugnant and not know why someone would think that nasty stuff would be consumable or desirable and thus would never raise their hand to participate. I think you know which category I’m in. Bleh.

*Thanks, Dad.
**My dissertation committee argued for a long time what to call the White kids. White? Euro-American? Caucasian? I didn't care. Call my people "Pigment Challenged" for all I care, just sign off on the thing so I can graduate already.
***NFTSP does not endorse candy motivators. Except when they really work.

Call the Fire Marshall, I Need a Nap

In the spirt of last year's post Back to Work in the Public School, By the Numbers, I shall give an update one year later. And because I love data, I have calculated the percentage change over time. Nerd alert.

Number of Icebreakers: 0
This number is down 7000%. How did I do it? How did the ice get broken without me this year? How did I get away with no trust falls or snap cups? I'll tell you. I got married and changed my email and I missed the emails about the retreat. I would not recommend this strategy to others. I secretly missed the snap cup. And I just don't know if I can trust anyone on my school site to catch me if I fall off the auditorium stage wearing inappropriately high heeled shoes, like I did last year. (Yeah, no post-link to that, I was too embarrassed to write a post because I had just warned the 8th grade girls about high heeled shoe dangers.)

Number of Schools Assigned to Me: 2
Down 33%! TWO? Seriously? How is this possible? Most school psychologists have 3-5 schools. I cannot tell you my secret, or I fear I will get another school assigned to me.

Ratio of School Psychologist (Me!) to Students: 1:700
Less schools, more students. Go figure.

Number of Dead Rodents/Swarms* of Ants Discovered in Office: 0
100% decline. Hallelujah!

Number of Crying Children Consoled: 5**
This ratio is up because we have two new Kindergarten classes this year at one of my schools. It is a Spanish immersion program so there is NO ENGLISH at all in the classes. I want to spend every day in there to practice my Spanish, which is intermediate at best. I have imagined the following conversation between me and my principal:

P: We need to talk about how much time you're spending in the Kindergarten class
Me: But I'm learning so much! Today, we read a story about a frog and I learned how to say "jump!"
P: *Sigh* Yes, but I'm getting complaints that you are raising your hand in class and blurting out answers to the teacher's questions for the children.
Me: I just want to LEARN!!!

Perhaps I should enroll in some sort of class. But the Kindergarten pace is so perfect for me. I felt for the little ones who didn't speak any English. They kept saying to me, "Why are you talking in Spanish? I don't understand! I KNOW you speak English!" What gave it away? My Lithuanian-Irish tan?

Number of Quotes that Made Me Wish I Was a Kindergarten Teacher: 8539573489

This group of girls was sitting at a table drawing and I asked on of the girls, "Hablas Espanol?" She said, "I speak poquito Espanol" and her little friend got so excited and said, "Me too! I speak mosquito Espanol too!"

This one little guy was clearly exhausted at the end of the day, with all the lining up, following new rules, and all that drawing and singing and playing, and he said to me (In the forbidden English): "Dang. I wish the fire marshall would come and tell us there's too many kids up in this school so I could go home and take a NAP." Amen, brother. Kindergarten is exhausting, especially when you're trying to figure out what everyone is saying all day. But for the first time in a long time, I came home energized, not totally wiped out. Why? Because spending time in Kindergarten evokes all my fantasies of primary prevention of school failure.

(whips out soap box)

So much of our profession is build around the "wait to fail" model of service delivery, in which we must label children as "disabled" in order for them to receive special services. Not all kids who have learning problems have learning disabilities. But when special education is the only intervention, we school psychologists get to be the evil gatekeeper of what is perceived as the only way to help a kid learn to read.

(steps down).

Whoa. Where was I? Ah yes, cute attack. There was this one little girls who spent the first 45 minutes of class crying, and periodically weeped throughout the day, when she realized she was STILL THERE. She said not one word all day (and she spoke Spanish, so it wasn't that). At the end of the turned to me as she was leaving and looked up at me with her big brown doe eyes, hugged my leg, and said, "Hasta Manana."

To take a phrase from Mrs. Mimi, I DIE.

*Or is "swarm" only for bees? Nest of ants? Family? Pod? Hm. Either way, yea for sanitation!
**My new friend, Michaele has posted a faboo list for parents and teachers about How to help kids transition to Kindergarten

It Aint Easy Being Green

Every year, I get to be a mentor to a new school psychologist in my district. I really enjoy doing it, but I have to fight the urge to give them a little notebook and say, “Write that down” after everything I say. Wouldn't that be fun? I got to do it one time before in my life, the day before I got married and my sweet sweet friend, Leigh would write down all the last minute things we had to do before the big day. "I forgot to get a guest book! Write that down." It was so fun, but I suppose it’s a tad much for people who don't know my sense of humor yet. See also: "Get me coffee! Just kidding. Not really."

ANYHOO. After my first day back in the school district the other day, I came home and told my husband I got assigned my new mentee! He said, “You got assigned one of those underwater animals that are kind of like whales but almost extinct?” Not MANATEE, silly. Mentee. Husband is so precious.

So the next day my manatee and I were talking about all the fun that is my school district (Yes! You really do get to use a 1960s card catalog to find student folders! You’ll feel like a secretary in Mad Men! Isn’t that why you got your Ph.D.?), and she got quiet for a second and I thought I’d taken my sarcasm too far. I can do that from time to time. Then she said, “You know, I just realized that you are the one who writes that school psychology blog. Um, you’re not going to write about me on your blog are you?” Of course not, sweetie. Only I am.

But rest assured, I will not write about her, per se, but perhaps just some general tips for brand new school psychologists (and teachers!). So, here are my top three mantras for all the virtual manatees out there, starting out their first year. Repeat after me:

1) My work will still be there tomorrow. It will never be “done” because kids are never “done” learning. Don’t make yourself crazy by working so much overtime that you burn yourself out. I’m not saying don’t work hard and be one of those “my contract says I only have to work 7 hrs” people, but don’t kill yourself trying to do more than humanly possible.

2) I must free myself of “Why” if I want to work in a school district. Why do we still use card catalogs? Why do I have to log the same information in 6 different places? Why are we waiting for kids to fail enough to be eligible for special education? Young Jedi, you will make yourself crazy asking why we do all the ridiculous things we do in bureaucracies. The better question is, “What can I do to get around this dumb policy to really help the kid?”

3) Consult, Consult, Consult. And also: Consult. Knock Knock. Who’s there? Consult. Seriously. It’s not a sign of weakness to ask for help. Plus, people like to help. You like to help, right? Guess what? So do others. If you are thinking about a problem with a kid, parent, staff member, lesson, assessment, anything late at night, wondering what to do, that is your cue to consult with someone.

And in the interest of being green, I shall also recycle a few tips for new teachers and school psychologists. Recycling. So hot right now:

What to Post on Your Classroom Walls to Support Positive Behavior

Checklist for New Teachers

Making Positive Reinforcement Your Best Friend

Dealing with Oppositional Kids

How I Survived my First Year as a School Psychologist

Wow. Saving the manatees and recycling all in one post. Perhaps this post was brought to you courtesy of my training at Berkeley. Now it’s your turn, people—any tips you wish someone had told you in your first year teaching or school psychologizing*?

*New verb. Just decided. Write that down, young manatee.

Can I Get a What What for My Internet Best Friend?

I have a secret Internet best friend. It may be a bit premature, but I have ordered the “Best Friends” heart necklace, in which one of us gets half of the heart saying “Be Fri” and the other gets the half that says “st ends.” No need to alert my husband of my inappropriate Internet relationship, it’s strictly work-related. I am talking about my good friend, Mrs. Mimi, teacher and author of the blog, Its Not All Flowers and Sausages (linky thing not working: here it is: www.itsnotallflowersandsausages.blogspot.com)

Not only is she fabulous, but she has just written a book about her adventures in teaching 2nd grade that made me miss not one, but TWO train stops when I was reading it on my morning commute. I give it a TWO MISSED STOP rating*. My highest yet. Let’s put it this way, I only missed ONE stop in reading my favorite book of all time, Jane Eyre. So basically, it’s better than a classic, at least if you are an educator. It captures all the delicious nonsense in schools that I so enjoy writing about on this blog, mixed in with tales of the joys of working with such wonderful little friends every day in schools.

And just to show off how we are BFFs, the book, entitled "It's Not All Flowers and Sausages: My Adventures in 2nd Grade" hasn’t even come out yet….nerdy me got an advanced copy through a twitter contest. I swear, I’m not stalking this woman. We just share a similar love of writing about finding the lighter side of working in the public schools.

You can get your copy now on preorder, and it comes out September 1st—just in time for a good laugh as you return to school. It’s available here at Amazon.com.

Just be prepared to miss your train stop or embarrass yourself laughing out loud.


*Incidentally, I could also give it a 47 laugh-out-loud-and-have-commuters-stare-at-you rating, if you prefer.

Must. Write. About. Kittens.

As promised, this post involves kittens.

Okay, so it’s T-minus 2 days and counting until I return to work in the public school. I am one of those people who has always been in school, or been working in a school, so my new year always starts in August. I buy the August to August calendars, and think of the beginning of school as a good time to make New Year’s Resolutions.

1) As per last post, I am vowing to Be Positive! in the face of dysfunction. This year, I will put the “fun” in dysfunction! For those who have been following my Facebook Fan Page, I have been trying to keep things light in fighting a Bureaucracy Monster, who requests me to do such tasks as going back into time to get a tuberculosis shot. I will not let The System keep me down.

2) I vow to keep my office décor fun and friendly, yet making it clear that I work in an inspirational animal poster-free environment.*



Ah….why are you so friggin’ CUTE little kitten? This one will be difficult.

3) I vow to try and be less sarcastic when confronted with bureaucratic nonsense that keeps me from working with students. I’m told sarcasm is rooted in anger, and is a sublimation of aggression. Well then. Isn’t that great. I guess then, that I just love all the paperwork involved in working in special education. What? My resolution doesn’t start until Wednesday. Just had to get it out of my system. *Sigh* I guess this means I can’t use this poster to decorate my office this year, as it would be a double-violation (animal poster and sarcasm):



4) I vow to keep my blog up to date. But if I disappear for a while, know that I am holding onto a branch somewhere, looking cute and hanging in there.

* Also, hoping to start this school year in a dead animal in office-free environment.

If My Name is in the Email Subject Heading, I am Dead

I got my first email about returning to one of the school districts where I work as a school psychologist yesterday. Seriously, it’s August already? How did that happen?

I am always mixed about going back to school. I will miss being a “lady who lunches” in the summer (though that’s a myth, I still work all summer, just not in the schools). But I love the back to school shopping and the freshly sharpened pencils and the decorating of my janiors closet office. I usually choose a solid color for the walls, with a classy border, and refrain from all posters involving eagles or kittens or other animal-motivation. I just don’t think kids are gonna come in the office with their troubles fixed by inspirational quotes about soaring above things or “hanging in there!”

Anyhoo, where was I going with this? Ah yes, the email.

I got kind of excited about going back and seeing my colleagues, and I was inspired to check my district email. Turns out, I was apparently on a one-woman district email-strike from April to June, because there were a zillion emails I hadn’t seen yet. Some were marked urgent, but apparently were not. This might be a good time management strategy—if you don’t check your email, the urgent emails go away and people figure out their urgent problem on their own! I assume anything truly urgent would involve a phone call.

As I scanned the emails, there was one district employee who I can only assume is the PR voice of the district who had a lot to say. As I clicked through the emails, I saw a theme. The news about our district wasn’t so great. Budget cuts. Pending layoffs. How to get legal representation for our impending budget cuts and pending layoffs. Shooting of a student. And every once in a while, a teacher had died and their memorial service was advertised. WOW. Is that all the news we have in our district? Depressing.

Surely there is some good news about our district?! I know at my school, there are many wonderful things being done for kids. But I guess like the regular news, it’s all bad news all the time? And then at the end of the news, there’s a story about a crazy cat lady trying to get people to adopt kittens or something and we’re supposed to be like, “OH, everything is fine now that I saw that 2 second human interest feature.”*

So I guess that’s part of why I write this blog. I am striving to be that crazy cat lady, trying to sell the idea that it’s not all so bad! Right. So my New School Year’s Resolution is to post more positive stories. I know, the next-stop-dysfunction-junction posts are always a sure hit, and you know I can’t let go of ones like this and this and this.

But I will promise you this: my next post WILL have a kitten in it.


*True story. After an hour of reporting on the Columbine high school shooting, my local news anchor actually used the phrase, “On a lighter note, we turn to Glenda with a story about a man who taught his cat to ride his bicycle!” Super! The cat and the man are riding out rest of their lives together. I feel great now!

Judgy Jugerson Gets a Karmic Punch in the Face

I live in the San Francisco Bay Area and commute with 8 hojillion people to work over the Bay Bridge. This allows me lots of “think time” and time to judge what bumper stickers people put on their cars.* In my recent survey of bumper car stickers, I would say that about 9 out of 10 people in the Bay Area supported Obama (duh) and about 2 people with trucks enjoyed the likes of McCain. I also know that most Priuses (sp?) support NPR and that quite a few people enjoy broadcasting their stupid sexual nuances (e.g. “Nurses do it with patience!”) Ew.

Anyhoo…where was I going with this? Ah yes, advertisements on vehicles. I was behind this bus a while back that had a public service announcement that read:

Los ninos estan cayendo de las ventanas!

This, loosely translated, is “Children are Falling out of Windows!” There were these creepily drawn grotesque cartoon children featured, telling me in Spanish, to put screens on my windows. It was sponsored by Children’s Hospital of Oakland. I was stuck behind this bus for 45 minutes, and thus had the time to ponder:

1) Surely there isn't such a high proportion of children falling out of windows in Oakland that it necessitates an entire public service announcement? I mean, really? I mean, one is too many, but this is shocking to me that a group of people chose this theme for a PSA.

2) IF there are a high number of children falling out of windows in Oakland, unless an unusually high proportion of these children are Latino, it is kind of insulting and/or racist to think that Latino parents wouldn’t think to keep their children from falling out of windows.

I then reached a fantastic 26 miles an hour and passed the bus. Didn’t think much about it until a couple of months ago….

I was working with this 9-year-old child with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), the super impulsive type. We had been working on study skills, executive functioning, and self regulation (how to calm yourself down and focus). We were working on the 4th floor (Face it. you know where this is going. You want to stop reading but you can’t help yourself), and I leaned down to get some materials out of my bag and when I looked up approximately 2 seconds later, he was across the room, HALFWAY OUT THE WINDOW, feet off the ground and everything. GAK!!! I didn’t think that he would do this, because he wasn’t Latino and he didn’t give me any sort of verbal indicator, like “look at the pretty birds outside!” or anything.

Then, those creepy grotesque cartoon children from the bus popped in my head and taunted me. I cursed the school I was working in for not having friggin’ screens on their windows. Surely this is some kind of OSHA violation?!?

And then I cursed myself for mocking the advertisement a few months ago. I hate Karma. Please excuse me, I am going to equip all my windows at home with screens now, and write a strongly worded letter (with angry font, like ARIEL BOLD ITALICS) to my local school district facilities department.

The funny part of this story is that after I pulled the kid back inside and told him in my best positive request/redirection teacher voice, “That’s not safe! Feet on the ground, now!” he said, “Relax. If I fell, and I lived, I would encourage my parents not to sue you, because it wouldn’t have been your fault.” Awesome.

*In addition to calculating my gas mileage, my car does this analysis of my average speed per tank of gas. It is 24.3 miles per hour. I take the HIGHWAY to work. Feel my pain.

The Bucket List

It is not often that I am at a loss for words. I know, you are surprised, right? But recently, I did an assessment with a 15-year-old boy who was in a special school for kids with emotional disabilities, and part of this assessment was to interview the parent. Now, I try my best not to be judgmental about parenting.* I mean, lets face it, it is a ridiculously difficult job, especially if your child has special needs.

So I was interviewing the mom about what she thought were her son’s strengths, and she replied, “He ain’t got none.” Wow. No strengths? I tried to guide her to some non-traditional strengths in case she thought she could only answer about academic strengths (he was significantly below grade level).

Me: Um, okay…what about hobbies? Does he like to do anything special? Is he good at a sport or a hobby or something?

Parent: He likes basketball, but I don’t let him play.

Me: Erm, uh

Parent: I don’t let him play because he does too bad in school.

Me: Well, I’ve seen him play basketball here and he seems like he’s pretty good!

Parent: Not really.

Me:

Parent:

Me: Ummmmm. Well, sometimes kids are not always the best athletes, but they feel good about themselves when they improve, or when they are having fun with their friends playing basketball.

Parent: Are you saying that he has no self-esteem because I won’t let him play basketball?

Me: No, I’m just saying that kids tend to do better when they feel good about themselves in at least one area, and it doesn’t have to be school.

Parent: Oh.

Me: Let’s see, other strengths…sometimes kids are not strong in school, but are street-smart and get along well with others. How would you describe your son, Jared?

Parent: Street smart? HA! He’s street dumb. I tell him all the time.

Me:

Right. I was speechless. How could you not think of ONE single strength?

At the meeting, after I tested him, it turned out he did have some strengths. He was an artist. He made beautiful drawings. He learned well visually. He had a friend at school that he was kind to. He was also pretty resilient for having such a negative parent. I gave my schpeal about self-esteem:

Let’s imagine this table has a bunch of little buckets on it, and each one is a part of self-esteem and we can fill them up. Now, there isn’t just one single bucket called “Self-Esteem” because there are a lot of different types of self-esteem. If we want to help Jared feel good about himself, we need to think of all the buckets we can help him fill up, like “Self-Esteem in Math,” “Self-Esteem in Basketball,” "Art Self-Esteem," or “Friendship-Making Self-Esteem.” Then, if you aren’t very good at one thing, maybe reading, then you have all these other buckets that you can rely on to feel good about yourself.

Parent: I know, I am always telling him how smart he is, how great he is in basketball, and all that.

Me:

Sigh. I really hope she does.


*I had a recent slip up in being a Judgy Judgerson in the Apple store though, when a parent was screaming at her 5 year old child that she was going to “break his finger if he flipped her off again.” I wanted to intervene, but thought the mom might not appreciate my card at that moment.

Educators: Want to be published and fancy???

Hi Educators and fabulous blog-readers!

A while back, I mentioned that I was editing a book called "The Teachable Moment" and sent out a call for stories. For a while, I even had a fancy Amazon link to the book from this blog. Then, the economy tanked and they put the book on hold. Boo.

But you know, me, I'm all about the silver lining, so the good news is now I can extend the deadline to September 30th, 2009 for getting new stories to add to the anthology! You should write something! Here are the deets:

"The Teachable Moment" is one book in a series that Kaplan Publishing is starting on books for teachers by teachers. It is a compilation of about 20-25 stories from the field about certain themes. My theme is the Teachable Moment, which is that moment when a kid finally "gets it" or has that "aha!" moment. It doesn't have to be all "Carpe Diem!" and the kids all stand on chairs to salute your greatness as a teacher, it can be a tiny, special moment when you make that connection with a student. It's more of a story we educators would tell each other, rather than an essay on teaching. It can be funny, serious, or a bit of both.

If you're interested, submit a 4-5 page story in a word document to my email (rebecca@studentsgrow.com). There is some money in it for you too (in addition to being fancy and published!) but I'm not sure the exact amount. If you have a good teachable moment story, but you aren't sure if it would be good for the book, you are welcome to submit a story idea and I can help shape it into a story with you.

I mean really, what else are you going to do in these last few weeks before school starts again? Rest? Recover? Recharge? Nah, you should always REFLECT on your REFLECTION. That is what we do.

Awkward Conversation #247

As a school psychologist, I get many little notes in my mailbox when I enter my school building. They are usually cryptic and anonymous:

Check in with Darius. He’s sad

Susana wrote in her journal that she wanted to hurt herself. Can you see her?

Not signed. No last names. Detective Branstetter is on the case.*

One I got the a while back made me dread the day I had ahead:

Jim thinks he’s retarded. Can you tell him he’s not?”

Ug. The problem was, Jim was borderline mentally retarded, so he was kind of right. He is in that group of kids who are smart enough to know that they’re not as smart as other kids. Jim was a 9th grade student with an IQ of 72 (below 70 is the technical cutoff for mental retardation) and low daily living skills (how he uses his intelligence in the community, like getting around on public transit, communicating with store owners, using money, and having hobbies or leisure activities with friends). These are the kids who you don’t quite trust to go to the store by themselves. By all other accounts, they look like “normal” kids, but they have pretty slow processing and they don’t problem-solve well (academically or socially).

Right. How do I explain this one to Jim in language he can understand that won’t make him hopeless? Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, “Awkward Conversation #247”:

Dr. B: Hi Jim! Would you like to take a little break from class? You’re not in trouble.

Jim: Okay!

Dr. B: (small talk ensues) Then: Jim, I heard a teacher say that you had some worries about…erm….uh…[In my head: Don’t say retarded yet. Don’t say retarded yet]…that you had some concerns about how well you are doing in school.


Jim: Yeah, I’m retarded.

Dr. B: Who told you that you are retarded?

Jim: My brother tells me all the time. Kids call me “retard” in class.

Dr. B: Would you like me to explain what our testing said about your learning?

Jim: Okay. It will show I’m retarded.

Dr. B: [In head:Urg. It kind of will]. Let’s see!

At this point, I take out a big piece of butcher paper and lay it out on my desk. I draw a number line with numbers ranging from 0 to 100, representing IQ. Keep in mind, Jim got a 72. I make marks at 20, 50, 70, 85, and 100. At 100, I put “average” and explain that most kids without any learning problems get scores of 100.

Dr. B: Where do you think your score on how well you learn is?

Jim: Like here [points to 0]

Dr. B: Actually, it’s here [Points to 72]. Kids who are severely “retarded” and can’t take care of themselves or learn well have scores here [points to 0-70]. Kids who can learn but it takes more help from their teachers and parents are here [points to 70-85].

Jim: You mean I’m not retarded?

Dr. B: [In head: Blerg. Borderline…should I even say it? What benefit would come from telling him he’s “almost retarded”? But I want to be honest and realistic…] No, you’re not “retarded” because your score was not in this range [points to below 70]. But your score is not as high as other kids in your class and that’s probably why you feel different.

Jim: Oh.

Dr. B: You can learn, but you were born with a brain that takes a little longer to learn new things. Once you learn them, you can do well. Can you think of something you know now that you didn’t know in middle school?

Jim: Nope.

Dr. B: Urm...er....what about in math? Did you learn anything new this year?

Jim: Uh, [longest awkward pause in the world] I guess fractions.

Dr. B: [In head: Thank God he thought of something] There you go. If you were retarded, you may never have been able to learn fractions.

Jim: I guess. Can I go back to class?

So there you have it! So awkward. Not sure if he totally got it.

Then, a few months later, his therapist came to me and said, “Thank you so much for talking to Tim. He came in a few weeks ago and drew me a number line and totally explained to me where he was, and was SO excited to show how he wasn’t down there in the 0-50 range.”

Huh. Who knew? It stuck. This is the job of a school psychologist. You plant a seed and hope it grows. You don’t often get “proof” your seed grew and actually helped the child very often. Every once in a while, you get some positive feedback like that, and it keeps you going.

*Weird to use my new last name. A kid told me that “Dr. Branstetter” sounded “meaner” than “Dr. Bell.” Yes! Perhaps the kids won’t tease me anymore. Plus, no more rhyming “Bell” with Hell! Or Smell! Just try to rhyme with Branstetter! Marriage is great.

The Greatest Assessment on Earth!

For those of you who don’t know what a school psychologist does, a big part of our job is to assess children for disabilities. A popular referral question is: “Does my child have Attention Deficit Disorder?” An assessment for ADD is often the most complex of all assessments because there is no “test” for ADD. It is a process where you assemble of tons of data, including psychoeducational assessment, executive functioning tasks, observations, interviews, and rating scales to see if signs point toward other disabilities, or if it is a true disorder of attention.

You have to show there are severe behavioral symptoms such as lack of focus, disorganization, memory difficulties, difficulties with sustained attention, distractibility, and the like, that are unusual for the age (a 3 year old is distracted all the time and that's normal). The symptoms need to have started before school entry, and need to be pervasive (meaning you can’t have ADD only during math class, or only in school and not at home). Sounds pretty straightforward until you think of all the other reasons you could have symptoms of inattention:

-A learning disability that makes it difficult to concentrate, organize, or learn
-Emotional or social problems that deflect your focus (ever try to do work when you’re really upset?)
-Situational factors such as being in a disorganized environment
- Auditory processing/language deficits that make it hard to focus (just think of having to be in a foreign language class all day when you don’t know what the heck anyone is saying. Hard to stay focused.)
-Anxiety (you are preoccupied with worry thoughts, and thus can’t focus)
-Depression (you don’t have the energy to focus)
-Being gifted (you get bored easily!)

And the list goes on. But testing for ADD is one of my favorite assessments to do, because it is like being a detective.

One time, I was asked by my school district to assess a student for ADD during my spring break. At first, I resisted. I mean, it’s called a “break” for a reason, right? Then, I found out that the child was not enrolled in the public school, but was in Circus School, and happened to live in our district. There was a time crunch, and it would have to be done ASAP. I thought about saying I couldn’t do it, but c’mon, it was Circus School!

Now, you’re probably thinking (as was I), “How on earth do you test a kid for symptoms of inattention in Circus School?” What would that write up look like?

Caroline appeared distracted by the TIGERS JUMPING THROUGH FLAMING HOOPS.

I couldn’t wait to see what this Circus School was all about. It was worth sacrificing my spring break. Caroline was a 9-year old girl, specializing in contortionism.* She was indeed quite flexible, but she did kind of seem like she wasn’t listening to her trainer. But seriously, what child could focus in this environment?

I ended up testing her and she came up fine on every test, with some difficulties in visual-motor planning and impulsive answering. No anxiety or social-emotional problems. Her focus was fine one-on-one, but that’s not too unusual, even for kids with ADD. Her circus teachers* rated her “at-risk” for attention difficulties, and her mom rated her as the most unfocused child on the planet. Ug. I didn’t have enough data to say for sure what was going on.

Then I hit the jackpot. I found her cumulative folder that included teacher comments from preschool through 2nd grade, prior to enrolling in Circus School. And there were comments all over the report cards about her lack of focus, distractibility, and not meeting her potential. There was enough data to tentatively diagnose her with ADD, with ongoing monitoring of symptoms.

So for all you teachers out there, who are spending this week writing a zillion report cards, seek comfort that years from now, you will be helping some school psychologist make better diagnoses! Here’s where I normally would pull this posting together with a lovely metaphor about contortionism and circus arts, but it’s Sunday and I haven’t had my coffee yet. I guess there would be something about “disentangling” symptoms or "jumping through assessment hoops."

Please excuse me, I’m going to need to go to Peet’s Coffee now.

*I feel like I’m making this up as I write, but I swear I am not.

Guest Writer: Debbie Downer

You ever have one of those days when you find out a 14-year-old former student murdered another student? Erm. Me neither.

But if I did, it would be awful. And there would be guilt about not doing enough. And there would be scanning of all interactions to see if there was something else I could have done to prevent it. There would be major cognitive dissonance. He was a nice kid. He had potential. He got sucked into a gang. He didn’t have the skills to think through what would happen if he actually shot another kid. I know that most people file “gang member” under “evil misfit” in their minds and move on with their lives, but it’s far more complex. He was a sweet kid. He was vulnerable to influence. He didn’t have many successes in school and was looking for a way to feel connected and powerful. I think there are two victims. One is gone at the age of 13 and one is in jail for the rest of his life.

There is a “spidering” of retaliation that is happening amongst my students, their older siblings, and their families. Some of my students say they admire the shooter. Some of my students are in danger. I feel powerless. I know I try to keep things light here at Notes From the School Psychologist, filling the blogospere with warm fuzzies, but I don’t want to sugar-coat how hard it is to be the person people go to when these things happen and ask, “what do we do?”

I was okay with my crisis intervention role when I got the call that I needed to go to the nearby middle school because of a shooting. It certainly wasn’t the first time my crisis team number had been called to do grief counseling. And I put on my objective psychologist hat* and grabbed my kit of crayons, paper, empathy, and crisis management skills.

In my team of other school psychologists, I saw all the kids coming in to mourn the 6th grader who was killed. They said things like, “He was really funny” and “He never came to class, but when he did, he made me laugh.” He was clearly in a gang. The kids said, “It’s so dumb he died for a color.” I processed the confusion, sadness, and anger with his friends, and sat with a girl who cried and clutched the kid’s beanie hat, as a last reminder of her friend. She wasn’t going to the funeral because she was afraid of retaliation. Then she said the shooter’s name. And my heart sank. It was one of MY kids. I knew him last year before he transferred out of my school. No longer an anonymous gang member, I was no longer that effective in my objective psychologist role. I managed to pull it together and see more kids that day, but I told my supervisor I didn’t feel like I would be effective in that role for the following day. I mean, how can anyone have empathy for a killer and grief counsel the victim’s friends at the same time?

A week has passed. No media coverage at all of the tragedy, except one blip on the 10 o’ Clock news the day after. Looks like the media has also filed it away under “evil gang members we can’t do anything about.” I wonder if this had happened in a fancy part of San Francisco, if Time Magazine would be all over it, opening a discussion about youth violence. It angers me.

Interestingly, I had JUST gone to a seminar on Student Threat Assessment, and we spent two days talking about how rare these events are, but how it’s our job to take every threat seriously. We can’t predict who will be a killer, but we can take steps following every threat. This kid never made a threat that I could have followed up on. But I knew he was vulnerable and interested in gangs. I wish I could have done more.

Debbie Downer would like to conclude with a sad fact that you can’t save everyone in this field. You do your best, and sometimes, the outside influences are stronger than you. You can clean the air inside your school, make it nurturing, follow up with kids who need help, and do your best. Sometimes it seems like the front door of your school is a screen door, and all the negative community influences just come right in and there’s nothing you can do. Except your best.

(Insert Debbie Downer noise here)

*It’s not actually a hat, but if it were, it would be like a Sherlock Holmes hat, I think, to symbolize the objective taking in of data/clues. See, humor is my defense mechanism from trauma. You probably noticed that already.