We all dread the question.
We dread it the most on public transit.
We dread it more on an airplane when we are trapped.
That's right, the question, "So, what do you do for a living?" can be a dreaded question for psychologists. When I say I'm a school psychologist, I get:
-Wow! So you teach? What grade? ("School" must trip people up)
-Whoa! What am I thinking RIGHT NOW (um, psychologist, not psychic)
-Are you analyzing me right now? (Yes. Unless I'm tired.)
-I have a daughter/son with X problem......
-That must be so rewarding (Erm....most days...)
-I totally need a psychologist (Darn. My expertise ends at age 18, unless you are super immature).
and my favorite (someone really asked this):
-What is your favorite kid problem? (ooh! ooh! I love when they can't read!)*
It is sometimes hard to say what exactly it is that a school psychologist does, because we have 8 hojillion hats to wear, but I usually go with "It's like a child psychologist in the school setting. If there is a student who isn't learning, I try to understand why, and I provide interventions or recommendations. I specialize in what gets in the way of learning (e.g. emotional problems, behavior problems, disabilities) and what helps learning. I do some prevention activities, but mostly I do interventions with kids, like testing students for disabilities, counseling, and consulting with teachers and parents." I'm sure NASP has a better definition, but that is my "elevator speech" about my job. But sometimes, after the job description, you get trapped in a very long and unwelcome discussion about your profession...
In case you missed me posting this on my Facey Face page, I recently did this interview for the New York Times about psychologists trapped on airplanes in uncomfortable situations. Enjoy. In a schadenfreude kind of way.
Cornered: Therapists on Planes.**
*Like my friend Beth, I really wish there was a universal sarcastic font.
** I love this article. I love all of it. The only thing that made me have a Dr. Evil moment was reading "Ms. Branstetter" instead of Dr. Branstetter. (In Dr. Evil voice): "I did not go to 6 years of evil graduate school to be called Ms." But who am I to criticize the New York Times? THE New York Times. I feel lucky to even be referred to incorrectly in it at all. And in true Me-Monstery fashion, I got a bunch of copies when it came out in print. Stocking stuffers, maybe?
Saturday, 16 October 2010
Friday, 15 October 2010
The Dreaded Plank.
It didn’t take me long in my career to realize that one of the best things I could do for my students was to practice what I preach and use good coping skills. You know, modeling how to put on your oxygen mask before assisting others and whatnot. I soon learned that if I didn’t exercise regularly, I wasn’t releasing the endorphins I needed to counteract bureaucracy monsters, crises, and vicarious trauma of the job. So I married a personal trainer.
Okay, fine, that’s not why I married him, but it sure was a fantastic bonus prize. Even though he has since changed careers and is now a professional photographer, I still make him make me work out from time to time. At first, it’s weird to have your husband telling you to drop and give him 20 pushups, but once you get over that, it’s awesome. I mean, free in-home training! With a dreamy trainer! Wait, where was I? Oh yes, coping skills.
This morning I had a session with my hubby and he told me to start with a plank. For those of you who don’t know, a plank is an evil yoga move that basically makes you hold your body weight up in a high pushup until your stomach and arms burst into flames. So I get in the plank position and hubby starts telling a story. After about 10 seconds, I am starting to feel the burn. Hubby continues with his story. 10 or 20 more seconds go by. His story goes on. I freak out on him: “You can’t just leave me here in plank position without a road map! I need to know how long I have to suffer!,” I cry out. Taken aback, he said, with encouragement, “10 more seconds, honey. You can do it.” And I did.
It reminds me so much of the kid during testing who always asks, “How much longer do we have?” after every single subtest. Learning is difficult for these kids. It doesn’t come easy and it is hard to persist without a road map. They want to know how long they have to suffer, just like I did in the dreaded plank. So today, when testing a kid with a severe learning disability and emotional disturbance, he immediately asked, “How long do I have to stay here?” I showed him the protocol and how many we were going to do, and had him check them off after each accomplishment. He tried to quit several times. I went back to the roadmap, and encouraged him to continue. He did. It was the most I’ve gotten out of one of my severe needs students in a long time.
Thank you, dreaded plank. And thank you, patient hubby. Now I can only adopt a growth mindset and hope that the plank gets easier for me with practice, and learning to persist with challenging tasks gets easier for my kiddos with practice too...
Okay, fine, that’s not why I married him, but it sure was a fantastic bonus prize. Even though he has since changed careers and is now a professional photographer, I still make him make me work out from time to time. At first, it’s weird to have your husband telling you to drop and give him 20 pushups, but once you get over that, it’s awesome. I mean, free in-home training! With a dreamy trainer! Wait, where was I? Oh yes, coping skills.
This morning I had a session with my hubby and he told me to start with a plank. For those of you who don’t know, a plank is an evil yoga move that basically makes you hold your body weight up in a high pushup until your stomach and arms burst into flames. So I get in the plank position and hubby starts telling a story. After about 10 seconds, I am starting to feel the burn. Hubby continues with his story. 10 or 20 more seconds go by. His story goes on. I freak out on him: “You can’t just leave me here in plank position without a road map! I need to know how long I have to suffer!,” I cry out. Taken aback, he said, with encouragement, “10 more seconds, honey. You can do it.” And I did.
It reminds me so much of the kid during testing who always asks, “How much longer do we have?” after every single subtest. Learning is difficult for these kids. It doesn’t come easy and it is hard to persist without a road map. They want to know how long they have to suffer, just like I did in the dreaded plank. So today, when testing a kid with a severe learning disability and emotional disturbance, he immediately asked, “How long do I have to stay here?” I showed him the protocol and how many we were going to do, and had him check them off after each accomplishment. He tried to quit several times. I went back to the roadmap, and encouraged him to continue. He did. It was the most I’ve gotten out of one of my severe needs students in a long time.
Thank you, dreaded plank. And thank you, patient hubby. Now I can only adopt a growth mindset and hope that the plank gets easier for me with practice, and learning to persist with challenging tasks gets easier for my kiddos with practice too...
Monday, 11 October 2010
Alert the Media. Or Else.
It's Mental Health Awareness Week!
*party balloons fall digitally down your screen if I was fancy and knew how to insert an obnoxious pop-up situation*
Shoot. Only problem besides my lack of digital balloon skills is I'm also totally late. It was actually last week. Ironically, I knew it was Mental Health Awareness Week and I totally didn't have time to post anything about it because, well, I was dealing with mental health issues all week. It's like how I am always too busy to remember School Psychology Awareness Week every single year. On any given week, I deal with the following:
-Kid I needed to test hauled off to jail
-A mom admitted she had a drinking problem
-Kid witnessed mom get shot
-Parents getting divorced and kid hitting others in class
-Young'un yoot using extreme profanity in class waaaaaaay beyond his years.*
-Two suicidal kids
-Kid caught with marijuana in class
-Kid caught HUMPING in class.
And then, it's usually Wednesday. I'm serious.
The issues aren't just at my low income schools either. Mental health issues are everywhere. It's not a problem for only poor people. I can't believe I even have to type that, but it is such a misconception that mental health problems are exclusive to "poor schools." The problems are just different in different in different communities. And no matter the kid's socioeconomic status, mental health issues prevent learning.
ALERT THE MEDIA. No seriously, do it.
In all of the dog and pony show of Education Nation week at NBC and the perfunctory back to school episode of "This Week", I never once heard them utter the phrase "mental health."** I never saw a teacher on the discussion panels and I certainly never saw any mental health professional. Oh no, all I learned from Education Week was that underachievement is all teachers' fault. Forgive me while flames burst out of the side of my face in rage.***
Where do I even begin?
Teachers are expected to be so much more than teachers. They are supposed to be teachers, data collectors, pseudo-parents, social workers, classroom managers, technology experts, nurses, psychological triage experts, specialists on disabilities and differentiation, disciplinarians, experts in their content areas and pedagogy, and basically learning magicians. Oh, and also paralegals, diffusing litigious parents and advocates.
And how are they supposed to deal with the students who are struggling with mental health issues? I mean, on the 4 out of 5 days I'm not on their school site? Um, Frederick, can you only lose your sh** on Tuesdays and every other Wednesday when Dr. B is on site? Thanks.
Oh now I'm getting all riled up. I am typing with purpose and husband is asking if I'm okay. Perhaps the flames of fury are burning him. Sorry honey. Namaste. Deep breath.
Okay, so back to my point. Kids in crisis and kids with mental health challenges need support in order to learn. Teachers need support in order to work with students in crisis. You could be the best teacher in the world, but if you have children in your class in crisis, they are often not even there emotionally to teach. And I guarantee that giving those kids the STAR standardized test isn't going to make them feel better. "Sweetie, you'll feel better if you bubble this in."
Why is mental health so absent from the conversation on educational reform? I guess for the same reason the media didn't even ask TEACHERS to comment on TEACHING. It would make too much sense. I mean, why ask the people actually doing the hard work what is working and what is needed?
It reminds me of a quote I recently read (not from my tea, surprisingly). It read: "The scientist and the practitioner both know that the tomato is a fruit, but the practitioner won't put it in a fruit salad."
Please, media, listen to us practitioners. We know what's up. We live it every day. We sit and wait, not for Superman, but for that damn printer ink we ordered in 2009 and for someone to listen to us. Do it, before I get really mad and throw my fruity tomato at you on my TV screen.
*I wish I could share, it was a doozy. I felt a little like I was in CSI: Kindergarten Profanity Inspection Unit, trying to get to the bottom of the profanity investigation. It could have been an innocent comment, it could have been hugely profane, ala Snoop Dogg. I was on the case.
**Perhaps it is addressed in Waiting for Superman. I doubt it though.
***See also: My Internet BFF ready to snap off the teacher pointing fingers in the post *Sigh*
*party balloons fall digitally down your screen if I was fancy and knew how to insert an obnoxious pop-up situation*
Shoot. Only problem besides my lack of digital balloon skills is I'm also totally late. It was actually last week. Ironically, I knew it was Mental Health Awareness Week and I totally didn't have time to post anything about it because, well, I was dealing with mental health issues all week. It's like how I am always too busy to remember School Psychology Awareness Week every single year. On any given week, I deal with the following:
-Kid I needed to test hauled off to jail
-A mom admitted she had a drinking problem
-Kid witnessed mom get shot
-Parents getting divorced and kid hitting others in class
-Young'un yoot using extreme profanity in class waaaaaaay beyond his years.*
-Two suicidal kids
-Kid caught with marijuana in class
-Kid caught HUMPING in class.
And then, it's usually Wednesday. I'm serious.
The issues aren't just at my low income schools either. Mental health issues are everywhere. It's not a problem for only poor people. I can't believe I even have to type that, but it is such a misconception that mental health problems are exclusive to "poor schools." The problems are just different in different in different communities. And no matter the kid's socioeconomic status, mental health issues prevent learning.
ALERT THE MEDIA. No seriously, do it.
In all of the dog and pony show of Education Nation week at NBC and the perfunctory back to school episode of "This Week", I never once heard them utter the phrase "mental health."** I never saw a teacher on the discussion panels and I certainly never saw any mental health professional. Oh no, all I learned from Education Week was that underachievement is all teachers' fault. Forgive me while flames burst out of the side of my face in rage.***
Where do I even begin?
Teachers are expected to be so much more than teachers. They are supposed to be teachers, data collectors, pseudo-parents, social workers, classroom managers, technology experts, nurses, psychological triage experts, specialists on disabilities and differentiation, disciplinarians, experts in their content areas and pedagogy, and basically learning magicians. Oh, and also paralegals, diffusing litigious parents and advocates.
And how are they supposed to deal with the students who are struggling with mental health issues? I mean, on the 4 out of 5 days I'm not on their school site? Um, Frederick, can you only lose your sh** on Tuesdays and every other Wednesday when Dr. B is on site? Thanks.
Oh now I'm getting all riled up. I am typing with purpose and husband is asking if I'm okay. Perhaps the flames of fury are burning him. Sorry honey. Namaste. Deep breath.
Okay, so back to my point. Kids in crisis and kids with mental health challenges need support in order to learn. Teachers need support in order to work with students in crisis. You could be the best teacher in the world, but if you have children in your class in crisis, they are often not even there emotionally to teach. And I guarantee that giving those kids the STAR standardized test isn't going to make them feel better. "Sweetie, you'll feel better if you bubble this in."
Why is mental health so absent from the conversation on educational reform? I guess for the same reason the media didn't even ask TEACHERS to comment on TEACHING. It would make too much sense. I mean, why ask the people actually doing the hard work what is working and what is needed?
It reminds me of a quote I recently read (not from my tea, surprisingly). It read: "The scientist and the practitioner both know that the tomato is a fruit, but the practitioner won't put it in a fruit salad."
Please, media, listen to us practitioners. We know what's up. We live it every day. We sit and wait, not for Superman, but for that damn printer ink we ordered in 2009 and for someone to listen to us. Do it, before I get really mad and throw my fruity tomato at you on my TV screen.
*I wish I could share, it was a doozy. I felt a little like I was in CSI: Kindergarten Profanity Inspection Unit, trying to get to the bottom of the profanity investigation. It could have been an innocent comment, it could have been hugely profane, ala Snoop Dogg. I was on the case.
**Perhaps it is addressed in Waiting for Superman. I doubt it though.
***See also: My Internet BFF ready to snap off the teacher pointing fingers in the post *Sigh*
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