Well people, March 15th, the deadline for possible layoffs in the schools has come and gone, and I did not get a letter that I am on the potential pink slip list. I can officially stop stalking my poor mailman. Its a bittersweet moment, because while now I don't have to look for another job and re-title my blog, "Notes from the Former School Psychologist Who Got Stabbed in The Back By the People She Gave 10 Years of Her Life To," there are many of my colleagues who did get the dreaded letter and may not be returning. Some of the best psychologists are our new people, and the policy "last hired, first fired" is causing our department and some of my schools to potentially lose some of the best people.
In my moment of crisis when I wrote this post about the Ides of March drama, I received many wonderful emails from people lending me their support. One such teacher, Nancy, of The Teacher Geek Blog wrote me an email that brought me to tears. She also shared a link to an article she recently wrote about how to deal with being laid off from a school district, and I found it really helpful. So here it is for my colleagues and blog friends who are sadly in this position: Surviving Unemployment:Purgatory.
If anyone else has any tips for our colleagues in limbo with a potential layoff notice, feel free to post them here. The best thing written to me, that I can share is Nancy's quote: "Working in a large urban district, you have already shown that you have amazing resilience. That same resilience will will get you through this."
Holla, Nancy.
Wednesday, 16 March 2011
Thursday, 10 March 2011
I'll Take Questions I am Not Prepared to Answer on the Spot for $800, Alex
I know how you all just love School Psychology Jeopardy, so here you go with the "So Unprepared For This Question" category:
Scene: Recess
Kindergarten kid #1: My daddy's in jail!
Kinder kid #2: My daddy used to be in jail.
Kinder kid #3: My daddy said mommy went to Wal-Mart for a long time. But it was really jail.
Kinder kid #4: Dr. B, what's jail?
Me: [As whole kinder class is now listening] Erm, uh...jail is um.. [I then remember one of the most awesome teachers I know responding to this question last year, and channel her] Well, jail is like time-out for grown ups. When they make a mistake they go to jail and learn how to not make that mistake again.
Wowza. Talk about interesting playground talk, right?
As many of you know, I work in a community where it is common for the poppits I work with to have a parent in jail. It is always a difficult discussion to have with kids, but just because it's uncomfortable doesn't mean we shouldn't have the conversation. Sometimes, teachers, family members, and school psychologists need a little help with finding the right words. The following is an excerpt from the book "What Will Happen to Me?" and I think it does a nice job of outlining how to answer these difficult questions.
Ten Question Often Asked By Children Whose Parents Are In Prison
By Howard Zehr and Lorraine Stutzman Amstutz,
Author of "What Will Happen To Me?"
Children need time to adjust to the separation caused by having a parent in prison. But it takes more than time. As we have heard in their voices, children also need to make sense of what has happened to them and to their parent or parents. Because of this, they have many questions.
Some of the questions they ask are straightforward. But sometimes their questions come out indirectly or in their challenging behavior. Incarcerated parents, as well as caregivers of children or other adults in their lives, often have to answer their uncomfortable questions.
Children who are present when a parent is arrested, especially young children, are usually not told where their parents are being taken, when they will be coming home, or why they have to go away. As time goes on, the children have even more questions.
Our childhood experiences shape much of our adult lives. Children who live with these kinds of questions, many of which are not answered to their satisfaction, experience trauma as a result. Frequently that leads to their general mistrust of authority, especially the legal system. Not having their questions answered can also lead children to blame themselves for their parents' absence or to believe that they are destined to follow in their parents' footsteps.
Here are questions that children whose parents are incarcerated often ask, along with suggestions about how to answer them. We will address some of the questions more fully in later sections of the book.
1) Where is my Mom or Dad?
Parents and caregivers often believe it is best to protect children by not telling them where their mothers or fathers really are. Children may be told that their parents are working in another state, going to school, or serving in the military. Sometimes children are told that their parents are ill and had to go away for special treatment.
Sooner or later children will realize the truth and know they have been lied to. This tends to hurt their relationship with the persons who have told them the untrue stories and can lead to feelings of distrust that affect their other relationships as well.
While the adult who hides painful reality does so believing it is in the best interest of the child, such an action (or inaction) creates a family secret that results in children feeling ashamed. Most childhood experts advise that children be told the truth.
2) When is he or she coming home?
The outcome and schedule of a parent's arrest and/or imprisonment is often uncertain. However, it is important to keep children up-to-date about what parents or caregivers do know. Children need to have concrete information they can deal with, even if it is, "We don't know what will happen yet."
3) Why is she or he in jail or prison?
Sometimes an innocent person is arrested. But when a parent has done wrong, it is important that this wrongdoing is acknowledged. Children need to know that there are consequences when people do things that are against the law or harmful to others.
At the same time, they also need to be reassured that even if someone sometimes does something wrong, it doesn't mean that s/he is necessarily a bad person. While a child's parent may be serving the consequences for something wrong s/he did, the parent is still worthy of love and capable of loving.
A child can learn to trust a caregiver who is honest about what a parent has done wrong. This practice of honesty allows the child to believe other things that the caregiver tells her or him as they progress together on this journey.
4) Can I talk to my mom or dad?
Jails and prisons have specific and often constraining rules about prisoners talking on the phone to their loved ones. Phone calls from prison are often quite expensive and restricted in length. Many times a parent does not have enough money to call home because it is so expensive.
When phone calls are difficult, letters can be especially important. Although young children may find it hard to express themselves through words, they may find it more meaningful to make drawings. As Stacy Bouchet, now an adult, suggests in her reflections, children often treasure the notes and letters they receive from their parents, as she did from her father.
5) When can I see my mom or dad?
It is helpful to explain to children that prisons have specific times for visiting, and their caretakers will get that information so that they can see their loved ones. If a parent is incarcerated at a distance, the child should be prepared for seeing his or her mother or father infrequently.
Some children are angry and do not want to see their parents, or at least they're ambivalent about the possibility. In general, though, it seems important for children to visit their parents as regularly as possible.
Before the first visit, they should be prepared for the circumstances of the visit. The caregiver should explain the security around the prison. The children should also know that there will be limits upon where they can visit and what they can do with their parents.
Most children want to know what their parent's life is like in prison. They may imagine frightening scenarios. Giving them a sense of mundane details of everyday life in prison can be helpful. If the child is interested, a caregiver can encourage the parent to describe his or her cell or room and tell what a normal day is like.
6) Who is going to take care of me?
Children in this situation often feel insecure. It is important to let children know who will be caring for them. If there is uncertainty about their living arrangements, children may need to be told that, but they also need to be reassured that plans for their care are being made and that they will not be abandoned. As much as possible, they need stability in their living situations and their relationships.
7) Do my parents still love me?
When children are separated from their parents, they often worry about whether their parents love and care for them. Most children need reassurance that they are loved by their parents no matter where the children happen to be living and with whom. They also value other loving relationships in their lives, but they still want to know about their parents' interest and love.
8) Is this my fault?
Children often blame themselves for being separated from their parents or even for their parents' misbehavior. They may imagine that if they had behaved better their parents would still be with them. They need reassurance on three fronts: that what happened to their loved one is not their fault, that it happened because that person did something wrong or harmful, and that this does not mean that their parent is a bad person.
9) Why do I feel so sad and angry?
Sadness and anger are children's common responses to a parent's incarceration. But most children do not understand their feelings or the origins of them. It is helpful for them to be reassured that their feelings are normal. Ideally, they can be encouraged to talk about their feelings of sadness or anger. If they cannot talk to their immediate caregivers such as their grandparents, they can be invited to talk to school counselors or social workers or even friends. Children often find it helpful to know other children in similar situations because they can understand each other's feelings. Children who find it hard to articulate their feelings can be encouraged to express them through their drawings or other art work.
10) Can I do something to help?
Children typically feel helpless and responsible. They need to know that their loved ones usually appreciate letters and pictures. They can be encouraged to send them as often as they want to.
The above is an excerpt from the book "What Will Happen To Me?" by Howard Zehr and Lorraine Stutzman Amstutz. The above excerpt is a digitally scanned reproduction of text from print. Although this excerpt has been proofread, occasional errors may appear due to the scanning process. Please refer to the finished book for accuracy. Reprinted from What Will Happen to Me?. © by Good Books (www.GoodBooks.com). Used by permission. All rights reserved.
Scene: Recess
Kindergarten kid #1: My daddy's in jail!
Kinder kid #2: My daddy used to be in jail.
Kinder kid #3: My daddy said mommy went to Wal-Mart for a long time. But it was really jail.
Kinder kid #4: Dr. B, what's jail?
Me: [As whole kinder class is now listening] Erm, uh...jail is um.. [I then remember one of the most awesome teachers I know responding to this question last year, and channel her] Well, jail is like time-out for grown ups. When they make a mistake they go to jail and learn how to not make that mistake again.
Wowza. Talk about interesting playground talk, right?
As many of you know, I work in a community where it is common for the poppits I work with to have a parent in jail. It is always a difficult discussion to have with kids, but just because it's uncomfortable doesn't mean we shouldn't have the conversation. Sometimes, teachers, family members, and school psychologists need a little help with finding the right words. The following is an excerpt from the book "What Will Happen to Me?" and I think it does a nice job of outlining how to answer these difficult questions.
Ten Question Often Asked By Children Whose Parents Are In Prison
By Howard Zehr and Lorraine Stutzman Amstutz,
Author of "What Will Happen To Me?"
Children need time to adjust to the separation caused by having a parent in prison. But it takes more than time. As we have heard in their voices, children also need to make sense of what has happened to them and to their parent or parents. Because of this, they have many questions.
Some of the questions they ask are straightforward. But sometimes their questions come out indirectly or in their challenging behavior. Incarcerated parents, as well as caregivers of children or other adults in their lives, often have to answer their uncomfortable questions.
Children who are present when a parent is arrested, especially young children, are usually not told where their parents are being taken, when they will be coming home, or why they have to go away. As time goes on, the children have even more questions.
Our childhood experiences shape much of our adult lives. Children who live with these kinds of questions, many of which are not answered to their satisfaction, experience trauma as a result. Frequently that leads to their general mistrust of authority, especially the legal system. Not having their questions answered can also lead children to blame themselves for their parents' absence or to believe that they are destined to follow in their parents' footsteps.
Here are questions that children whose parents are incarcerated often ask, along with suggestions about how to answer them. We will address some of the questions more fully in later sections of the book.
1) Where is my Mom or Dad?
Parents and caregivers often believe it is best to protect children by not telling them where their mothers or fathers really are. Children may be told that their parents are working in another state, going to school, or serving in the military. Sometimes children are told that their parents are ill and had to go away for special treatment.
Sooner or later children will realize the truth and know they have been lied to. This tends to hurt their relationship with the persons who have told them the untrue stories and can lead to feelings of distrust that affect their other relationships as well.
While the adult who hides painful reality does so believing it is in the best interest of the child, such an action (or inaction) creates a family secret that results in children feeling ashamed. Most childhood experts advise that children be told the truth.
2) When is he or she coming home?
The outcome and schedule of a parent's arrest and/or imprisonment is often uncertain. However, it is important to keep children up-to-date about what parents or caregivers do know. Children need to have concrete information they can deal with, even if it is, "We don't know what will happen yet."
3) Why is she or he in jail or prison?
Sometimes an innocent person is arrested. But when a parent has done wrong, it is important that this wrongdoing is acknowledged. Children need to know that there are consequences when people do things that are against the law or harmful to others.
At the same time, they also need to be reassured that even if someone sometimes does something wrong, it doesn't mean that s/he is necessarily a bad person. While a child's parent may be serving the consequences for something wrong s/he did, the parent is still worthy of love and capable of loving.
A child can learn to trust a caregiver who is honest about what a parent has done wrong. This practice of honesty allows the child to believe other things that the caregiver tells her or him as they progress together on this journey.
4) Can I talk to my mom or dad?
Jails and prisons have specific and often constraining rules about prisoners talking on the phone to their loved ones. Phone calls from prison are often quite expensive and restricted in length. Many times a parent does not have enough money to call home because it is so expensive.
When phone calls are difficult, letters can be especially important. Although young children may find it hard to express themselves through words, they may find it more meaningful to make drawings. As Stacy Bouchet, now an adult, suggests in her reflections, children often treasure the notes and letters they receive from their parents, as she did from her father.
5) When can I see my mom or dad?
It is helpful to explain to children that prisons have specific times for visiting, and their caretakers will get that information so that they can see their loved ones. If a parent is incarcerated at a distance, the child should be prepared for seeing his or her mother or father infrequently.
Some children are angry and do not want to see their parents, or at least they're ambivalent about the possibility. In general, though, it seems important for children to visit their parents as regularly as possible.
Before the first visit, they should be prepared for the circumstances of the visit. The caregiver should explain the security around the prison. The children should also know that there will be limits upon where they can visit and what they can do with their parents.
Most children want to know what their parent's life is like in prison. They may imagine frightening scenarios. Giving them a sense of mundane details of everyday life in prison can be helpful. If the child is interested, a caregiver can encourage the parent to describe his or her cell or room and tell what a normal day is like.
6) Who is going to take care of me?
Children in this situation often feel insecure. It is important to let children know who will be caring for them. If there is uncertainty about their living arrangements, children may need to be told that, but they also need to be reassured that plans for their care are being made and that they will not be abandoned. As much as possible, they need stability in their living situations and their relationships.
7) Do my parents still love me?
When children are separated from their parents, they often worry about whether their parents love and care for them. Most children need reassurance that they are loved by their parents no matter where the children happen to be living and with whom. They also value other loving relationships in their lives, but they still want to know about their parents' interest and love.
8) Is this my fault?
Children often blame themselves for being separated from their parents or even for their parents' misbehavior. They may imagine that if they had behaved better their parents would still be with them. They need reassurance on three fronts: that what happened to their loved one is not their fault, that it happened because that person did something wrong or harmful, and that this does not mean that their parent is a bad person.
9) Why do I feel so sad and angry?
Sadness and anger are children's common responses to a parent's incarceration. But most children do not understand their feelings or the origins of them. It is helpful for them to be reassured that their feelings are normal. Ideally, they can be encouraged to talk about their feelings of sadness or anger. If they cannot talk to their immediate caregivers such as their grandparents, they can be invited to talk to school counselors or social workers or even friends. Children often find it helpful to know other children in similar situations because they can understand each other's feelings. Children who find it hard to articulate their feelings can be encouraged to express them through their drawings or other art work.
10) Can I do something to help?
Children typically feel helpless and responsible. They need to know that their loved ones usually appreciate letters and pictures. They can be encouraged to send them as often as they want to.
The above is an excerpt from the book "What Will Happen To Me?" by Howard Zehr and Lorraine Stutzman Amstutz. The above excerpt is a digitally scanned reproduction of text from print. Although this excerpt has been proofread, occasional errors may appear due to the scanning process. Please refer to the finished book for accuracy. Reprinted from What Will Happen to Me?. © by Good Books (www.GoodBooks.com). Used by permission. All rights reserved.
Tuesday, 8 March 2011
Modeling. So Hot Right Now.
I gotta get out of my Ides of March funk, so here’s a jaunty little post on modeling. My husband and I are the face of Lenscrafters. I realize this is very random and totally not related to school psychology or education, but I’m gonna make the case that it is.
What is advertising all about anyway? Basically, putting people like you with a product and selling an idea that the product is fun, sexy, exciting and you NEED it. Doesn’t our pic here just make you want to run out to Lenscrafters and get yourself some Burberry specs so you can have as much fun as husband and I? Don’t pretend like you don’t ride piggyback on your spouse on the weekends in Union Square in San Francisco loving your life and perfect vision.
Funny thing is, this came out on the first day of our Honeymoon, and we saw it on a billboard in Santa Monica. I hoped it wasn’t too symbolic of our marriage to come, what with me on his back and growling at him (but see how he thinks its fun?).
As I work with kiddos and teachers and parents in the school, I see modeling in action every day. I see kids who are saucy and fun and then I meet their mom, and she is saucy and fun. I see angry kids who blame everyone for their problems, and then the parent does the same thing in a conference. We know that kids learn by watching, but we sometimes forget. I read a great quote once that we shouldn’t be afraid our kids aren’t listening to what we say, we should be afraid that they are watching what we do. TRUE DAT.
Sometimes, I see irony. I hear teachers screaming at kids to use their inside voices. I see staff freaking out and telling their kids to calm down. I see staff treat kids with disrespect and then they are shocked when they get disrespect back. I’m no angel myself, though I pride myself on being pretty unflappable (unless I’m planning a wedding, when I go from Bride-Chilla to Bride-Zilla in the span of a day). I tend to remain calm in most situations, and pride myself on being the calm in the storm. But even I lose it once in while, and I am not a good model (of calmness, not designer glasses).
I saw myself in action yesterday. I was working with a student who was one of those guys who working with feels like working with molasses. Angry, angry, molasses. He was so slow in his processing, and that made him really mad and want to give up. I tried to model enthusiasm and put on a “learning party” to fool him into thinking testing was fun. I even called testing “activities” and then he called me out on it and said, “These aren’t activities! You lied! These are tests!” I managed to get through about 45 minutes of testing before my Oscar ™ performance for Best Actress in a Pretending this is Fun Role was done. We agreed to reconvene after a break, mostly for me.
After the break, he was worse. And I had the most slow-moving test in the world left to give (TAPS-3, anyone?). It’s torture. For me. And I think he knew that. But I had to do it that day, because of course, the IEP meeting was in 2 days and I had driven about 30 miles to work with the kid. I couldn’t give up.
Unfortunately, my exasperation was contagious. I initially presented it as a task he had to “just get through to be done forever with my activities” and he ended up falling asleep during the sound blending task. Like, snoring asleep. I woke the young man up, and proceeded with my Oscar ™ worthy performance that he had just slept through the BEST PART! And you know what? He totally finished it and said at the end that it was “kinda fun.” So the moral of the story is if you approach testing as drudgery, you model that testing is a drag, and the kid responds. Model enthusiasm and their mind-set shifts. And if you are bored or unenthusiastic about testing, especially if it is the test that makes you want to cry every time you have to give it for the squillienth time, fake it ‘till you make it.
And the Oscar goes to….The lady in the Burberry specs.
What is advertising all about anyway? Basically, putting people like you with a product and selling an idea that the product is fun, sexy, exciting and you NEED it. Doesn’t our pic here just make you want to run out to Lenscrafters and get yourself some Burberry specs so you can have as much fun as husband and I? Don’t pretend like you don’t ride piggyback on your spouse on the weekends in Union Square in San Francisco loving your life and perfect vision.
Funny thing is, this came out on the first day of our Honeymoon, and we saw it on a billboard in Santa Monica. I hoped it wasn’t too symbolic of our marriage to come, what with me on his back and growling at him (but see how he thinks its fun?).
As I work with kiddos and teachers and parents in the school, I see modeling in action every day. I see kids who are saucy and fun and then I meet their mom, and she is saucy and fun. I see angry kids who blame everyone for their problems, and then the parent does the same thing in a conference. We know that kids learn by watching, but we sometimes forget. I read a great quote once that we shouldn’t be afraid our kids aren’t listening to what we say, we should be afraid that they are watching what we do. TRUE DAT.
Sometimes, I see irony. I hear teachers screaming at kids to use their inside voices. I see staff freaking out and telling their kids to calm down. I see staff treat kids with disrespect and then they are shocked when they get disrespect back. I’m no angel myself, though I pride myself on being pretty unflappable (unless I’m planning a wedding, when I go from Bride-Chilla to Bride-Zilla in the span of a day). I tend to remain calm in most situations, and pride myself on being the calm in the storm. But even I lose it once in while, and I am not a good model (of calmness, not designer glasses).
I saw myself in action yesterday. I was working with a student who was one of those guys who working with feels like working with molasses. Angry, angry, molasses. He was so slow in his processing, and that made him really mad and want to give up. I tried to model enthusiasm and put on a “learning party” to fool him into thinking testing was fun. I even called testing “activities” and then he called me out on it and said, “These aren’t activities! You lied! These are tests!” I managed to get through about 45 minutes of testing before my Oscar ™ performance for Best Actress in a Pretending this is Fun Role was done. We agreed to reconvene after a break, mostly for me.
After the break, he was worse. And I had the most slow-moving test in the world left to give (TAPS-3, anyone?). It’s torture. For me. And I think he knew that. But I had to do it that day, because of course, the IEP meeting was in 2 days and I had driven about 30 miles to work with the kid. I couldn’t give up.
Unfortunately, my exasperation was contagious. I initially presented it as a task he had to “just get through to be done forever with my activities” and he ended up falling asleep during the sound blending task. Like, snoring asleep. I woke the young man up, and proceeded with my Oscar ™ worthy performance that he had just slept through the BEST PART! And you know what? He totally finished it and said at the end that it was “kinda fun.” So the moral of the story is if you approach testing as drudgery, you model that testing is a drag, and the kid responds. Model enthusiasm and their mind-set shifts. And if you are bored or unenthusiastic about testing, especially if it is the test that makes you want to cry every time you have to give it for the squillienth time, fake it ‘till you make it.
And the Oscar goes to….The lady in the Burberry specs.
Saturday, 5 March 2011
Beware the Ides of March...
I wrote this post in my head at about 4am this Saturday morning, when I awoke with anxiety about next school year. The past few weeks, every teacher’s lounge and every staff meeting has been doom-and-gloom about the state of our school district’s education budget being slashed. Symbolically, every March 15th, in budget shortfall years, staff get “you might be laid off” letters. This year, we may lose some school psychologists for the first time in my 9 years in the profession. It’s bad, people.
I may even be laid off due to an administrative rule that puts me in the same category as a first year employee, despite 9 years of experience. I switched districts and I worked part time some of my years, so basically none of my years count in seniority. Awesome. The way layoffs go down in a school district is not by performance, evaluations, or any other reasonable criteria, but by “last hired, first fired” or in my case, “let go because you worked part time a few years.” Some of the most talented teachers I know are in their first or second years in the profession, and they are the first to be cut.
So friends, I sincerely hope that I don’t have to change the name of my blog from “Notes from the School Psychologist Blog” to “Notes from the Former School Psychologist Who Now Works in the Private Sector with no Health Insurance but Still Believes in Public Education and Can’t Work There With Kids Who Need it Blog.” Not as catchy.
Even if I am spared my job, the budget picture is bleak. My school principals have had to cut most support staff. That means that my placement at my middle school would be only four hours a week and my placement at my elementary school would also be a whopping four hours. Goodbye counseling services, goodbye teacher and parent consultation, parent support groups, counseling groups, prevention activities, and all the things I love. Hello testing one kid, writing a report, going to a meeting and leaving. I will be sad to tell my students I see in counseling that I can no longer see them. Sorry about your abandonment issues, poppits.
My schools have also had to cut all supply budgets. No copier repair funds, no supplies. What enrages me is that I bet Goldman Sachs has never spent a day without a functioning copier or pens and pencils. I bet the Bank of America CEO and his cronies have never had to share one pen with three other people in a cramped janitor’s closet. Why can we bail out the foolios who got us in the recession and turn our backs on the students and teachers? Oh, and how much are we spending in Afghanistan again? Ah that’s right 6.7 billion per month. Do you know what California schools could do with just one month of the war budget? I rarely get all political on this blog, but I see how our kids and school staff will be suffering at no fault of their own, and I have a deep sense of sadness and anger.
I wish I could put a more positive spin on this post. All I can do is to encourage anyone who lives in a city where there will be a special election about funding for schools, please, please, I beg you to get your family and friends to vote for a small increase in tax to keep public schools functioning. I just hope our neighbors aren't penny-wise and pound-foolish. Investment in smaller class sizes, mental health professionals, quality teachers, and supplies to learn prevents school failure and the high cost of special education, not to mention the societal cost of drop out.
As for the Ides of March, I will be stalking the mailman on the 15th to see if I have been stabbed in the back 23 times by the Congress, just like Julius Caesar. Stay tuned...
I may even be laid off due to an administrative rule that puts me in the same category as a first year employee, despite 9 years of experience. I switched districts and I worked part time some of my years, so basically none of my years count in seniority. Awesome. The way layoffs go down in a school district is not by performance, evaluations, or any other reasonable criteria, but by “last hired, first fired” or in my case, “let go because you worked part time a few years.” Some of the most talented teachers I know are in their first or second years in the profession, and they are the first to be cut.
So friends, I sincerely hope that I don’t have to change the name of my blog from “Notes from the School Psychologist Blog” to “Notes from the Former School Psychologist Who Now Works in the Private Sector with no Health Insurance but Still Believes in Public Education and Can’t Work There With Kids Who Need it Blog.” Not as catchy.
Even if I am spared my job, the budget picture is bleak. My school principals have had to cut most support staff. That means that my placement at my middle school would be only four hours a week and my placement at my elementary school would also be a whopping four hours. Goodbye counseling services, goodbye teacher and parent consultation, parent support groups, counseling groups, prevention activities, and all the things I love. Hello testing one kid, writing a report, going to a meeting and leaving. I will be sad to tell my students I see in counseling that I can no longer see them. Sorry about your abandonment issues, poppits.
My schools have also had to cut all supply budgets. No copier repair funds, no supplies. What enrages me is that I bet Goldman Sachs has never spent a day without a functioning copier or pens and pencils. I bet the Bank of America CEO and his cronies have never had to share one pen with three other people in a cramped janitor’s closet. Why can we bail out the foolios who got us in the recession and turn our backs on the students and teachers? Oh, and how much are we spending in Afghanistan again? Ah that’s right 6.7 billion per month. Do you know what California schools could do with just one month of the war budget? I rarely get all political on this blog, but I see how our kids and school staff will be suffering at no fault of their own, and I have a deep sense of sadness and anger.
I wish I could put a more positive spin on this post. All I can do is to encourage anyone who lives in a city where there will be a special election about funding for schools, please, please, I beg you to get your family and friends to vote for a small increase in tax to keep public schools functioning. I just hope our neighbors aren't penny-wise and pound-foolish. Investment in smaller class sizes, mental health professionals, quality teachers, and supplies to learn prevents school failure and the high cost of special education, not to mention the societal cost of drop out.
As for the Ides of March, I will be stalking the mailman on the 15th to see if I have been stabbed in the back 23 times by the Congress, just like Julius Caesar. Stay tuned...
Thursday, 24 February 2011
Saliva. I Did Not See that Coming.
For those of you who aren’t aware, the National Association of School Psychologist’s conference is in San Francisco this week. Seeing as how it’s in my hometown this year, I couldn't not go, right? I usually pick all conferences by venue. I missed last year's NASP conference because it was someplace cold. No thanks.
So this year, I was very excited to see old friends, learn new things, and do it all from the comfort of my hometown. The first day of the conference, it was a bit of a sensory overload, but fun. The second day of the conference, I was in the groove, and I had my nerdy little NASP bookbag filled with 8 squillian pens I had hoarded from the exhibit hall freebies, ready to learn. That morning, I hopped on our local train, BART, and thumbed through the 80 lb list of sessions and planned my day. I’ve been in the Bay Area about 10 years now, so I am a regular BART-user, and I craftily picked the last car because I knew there would be a seat. I win.
I approached my station and as I exited, I heard someone scream, “Bitch!” and heard a spitting sound right behind me. I exited the train, turned around, the doors closed, and this belligerent man was roaming the back car, yelling and spitting. I foolishly then touched the back of my head, and my hand was wet with spit. I had been spit on. My crime was walking near a crazy person. Horrified, I went to the nearest police officer to report the harassment.
Me: Officer? Um, yes, I’ve just been yelled at and spit on by a belligerent passenger on the Daly City train headed southbound.
Officer: (Smirking) Well, ma’am, have you ever ridden BART before?
Me: I have been riding BART for 10 years and that’s irrelevant. Passengers should not be spit on and cursed at.
Officer: (Condescendingly) Well, sometimes, when you see a crazy person, you should just move away from them.
Me: Are you kidding me? I was exiting the train, never even saw this person, and I was spit on from behind! And how is this my fault for not being able to prevent a crazy person from targeting me for no reason? And he's getting away! He's probably at Civic Center right now, harassing other people! (At this point, I burst into tears)
Officer: (Using calm, soothy voice now, smirkiness gone). Ma’am, I will call it in.
Me: (sniffling) Thanks…it’s…sniff…just….that….I…don’t…sniff…want someone else to be…sniff…victimized.
Good times, right? I wanted to go home and disinfect my hair. I wasn’t even really crying because the guy spit on me. He probably had some sort of thought disorder in the schizophrenic family of diagnoses. Yes, I do 4 second DSM-IV diagnoses. As my friend who joined me shortly after the incident said, “Let’s CBT this. At least it wasn’t in your face?”* What was really upsetting was the officer’s response. He basically inferred that it was common, so it wasn’t a problem and then that it was my fault for not being psychic and avoiding the person.
After attending sessions all day, conveniently on anti-bullying, I got to thinking about my one incident of victimization, and about how we respond to kids who report repeated victimization and bullying. I work with them all the time. Teachers and parents want the kid to toughen up. I empathize, problem-solve with them, and teach assertiveness. I always work with the bully too.
I think inadvertently, we can re-victimize kids who are bullied. The officer’s “It’s common” argument sounds a lot like the “Kids can be cruel, you have to develop a thick skin” argument I hear in the schools. The officer’s comment, “Well, you should just move away from crazy people” is a variant of “Did you try ignoring him or avoiding him?” Both arguments put the burden of change on the victim. I have first hand experience with the “just ignore him!” argument backfiring on me big-time (See the My Words Taste Yucky incident of 2008.)
We could all be more thoughtful when we process bullying incidents with kids. I have found that bullying is a very complex issue, and we often jump to “easy” solutions like asking the victim to be less sensitive or avoid the bully. I can’t remember who said the quote, but I remember it: “For every complex problem, there is a quick, easy, and simple solution that is wrong.” We get it wrong when we only work with the victim on their role in the interaction, and not with the bully and even the bully bystanders.
As I attend conference presentations this week on bullying interventions, social skills promotion, and prevention of violence, I hope I do pick up some more insights on how to help. And I hope I don’t have to do it with any more spit in my hair. *gags*
*Cognitive behavioral therapy: change your thoughts, change your feelings. I needed that. My thought “I have some sort of disease in my hair” was not making me feel better. “At least it wasn’t in my face” did make me feel better.
So this year, I was very excited to see old friends, learn new things, and do it all from the comfort of my hometown. The first day of the conference, it was a bit of a sensory overload, but fun. The second day of the conference, I was in the groove, and I had my nerdy little NASP bookbag filled with 8 squillian pens I had hoarded from the exhibit hall freebies, ready to learn. That morning, I hopped on our local train, BART, and thumbed through the 80 lb list of sessions and planned my day. I’ve been in the Bay Area about 10 years now, so I am a regular BART-user, and I craftily picked the last car because I knew there would be a seat. I win.
I approached my station and as I exited, I heard someone scream, “Bitch!” and heard a spitting sound right behind me. I exited the train, turned around, the doors closed, and this belligerent man was roaming the back car, yelling and spitting. I foolishly then touched the back of my head, and my hand was wet with spit. I had been spit on. My crime was walking near a crazy person. Horrified, I went to the nearest police officer to report the harassment.
Me: Officer? Um, yes, I’ve just been yelled at and spit on by a belligerent passenger on the Daly City train headed southbound.
Officer: (Smirking) Well, ma’am, have you ever ridden BART before?
Me: I have been riding BART for 10 years and that’s irrelevant. Passengers should not be spit on and cursed at.
Officer: (Condescendingly) Well, sometimes, when you see a crazy person, you should just move away from them.
Me: Are you kidding me? I was exiting the train, never even saw this person, and I was spit on from behind! And how is this my fault for not being able to prevent a crazy person from targeting me for no reason? And he's getting away! He's probably at Civic Center right now, harassing other people! (At this point, I burst into tears)
Officer: (Using calm, soothy voice now, smirkiness gone). Ma’am, I will call it in.
Me: (sniffling) Thanks…it’s…sniff…just….that….I…don’t…sniff…want someone else to be…sniff…victimized.
Good times, right? I wanted to go home and disinfect my hair. I wasn’t even really crying because the guy spit on me. He probably had some sort of thought disorder in the schizophrenic family of diagnoses. Yes, I do 4 second DSM-IV diagnoses. As my friend who joined me shortly after the incident said, “Let’s CBT this. At least it wasn’t in your face?”* What was really upsetting was the officer’s response. He basically inferred that it was common, so it wasn’t a problem and then that it was my fault for not being psychic and avoiding the person.
After attending sessions all day, conveniently on anti-bullying, I got to thinking about my one incident of victimization, and about how we respond to kids who report repeated victimization and bullying. I work with them all the time. Teachers and parents want the kid to toughen up. I empathize, problem-solve with them, and teach assertiveness. I always work with the bully too.
I think inadvertently, we can re-victimize kids who are bullied. The officer’s “It’s common” argument sounds a lot like the “Kids can be cruel, you have to develop a thick skin” argument I hear in the schools. The officer’s comment, “Well, you should just move away from crazy people” is a variant of “Did you try ignoring him or avoiding him?” Both arguments put the burden of change on the victim. I have first hand experience with the “just ignore him!” argument backfiring on me big-time (See the My Words Taste Yucky incident of 2008.)
We could all be more thoughtful when we process bullying incidents with kids. I have found that bullying is a very complex issue, and we often jump to “easy” solutions like asking the victim to be less sensitive or avoid the bully. I can’t remember who said the quote, but I remember it: “For every complex problem, there is a quick, easy, and simple solution that is wrong.” We get it wrong when we only work with the victim on their role in the interaction, and not with the bully and even the bully bystanders.
As I attend conference presentations this week on bullying interventions, social skills promotion, and prevention of violence, I hope I do pick up some more insights on how to help. And I hope I don’t have to do it with any more spit in my hair. *gags*
*Cognitive behavioral therapy: change your thoughts, change your feelings. I needed that. My thought “I have some sort of disease in my hair” was not making me feel better. “At least it wasn’t in my face” did make me feel better.
Sunday, 30 January 2011
Guest Post! A Week in the Life of a School Psych Grad Student
One of the fun things about being a grown up school psychologist is that I get to interact with interns, prospective grad students, grad students in school psych, and newbies. I get emails from people all over the world inquiring what the profession is like, and what grad school is like. I have too much distance to really write about grad school at UC Berkeley (I think my amygdala is still holding on to the bad parts and my hippocampus remembers only the really golden moments). I loved my program, but sometimes I have PTSD being back in the city of Berkeley. As I walk to a local restaurant, I imagine a professor hopping out from the bushes and asking me to collect more data and re-write all the chapters my dissertation and I have a panic attack.
So, to get a more authentic perspective, I asked a student from my alma matter, Leo White, to write a little sumthin' sumthin' about what it is like in a Ph.D. grad school program in school psych. Leo also has a blog, which is not exclusively school psychy, but has some great posts about life in grad school. Plus I think there's some interesting bike posts because he's like a freaky "I'm going to bike to Marin County 30 miles away today!" kind of person. And these people fascinate me because I would only do that if someone was chasing me and a bike was my only mode of transit.
Before I post Leo's guest post, I have to say the following:
1) I have deep concerns about Leo's caffeine intake.
2) I think he has really captured the chaos of balancing academics and practice, and feel like this is good prep for balancing the roles in the actual job; and
3) I wish Leo was my intern. I can always use a good "Sweetie-get-off-the-roof-coaxer" in my life.
Without further ado, I give you Leo:
Rebecca and I talked briefly about me writing a guest post as a current School Psychology student. Intimidated about having for follow Rebecca’s witty and informative posts, I hesitated. Nonetheless, I think this type of post would have been helpful for me a few years ago as a prospective student, so here goes…
As a grad student at Berkeley, each step of my school psychology program has been starkly different from the last. My first year was almost exclusively academic—coursework, term papers, attending talks from visiting professors, and sitting on committees that I did not completely understand. Next year, my focus was much more applied—serving internships for consultation (i.e., working collaboratively with teachers to work through student issues) and assessment (to use Rebecca’s term, Testival Time).
Now in my third year, I want to share my latest week with you.
[Action!]
Monday: The internship site, a non-public school setting for emotionally and behaviorally challenged students where I work as a clinician, is off today. This day off of work means I can put in some much-needed time studying for my qualifying exam*, which is less than three months away. So, I find my way to a coffee shop with my headphones (my chatter/music/lady-talking-on-her-cell-phone-cancelling headphones) and I plug away. Unfortunately, the day felt so much like Sunday that I almost forgot to read for my classes tomorrow. As a result, I switched gears and reviewed my class-assigned readings over dinner.
Tuesday: In my program, we have Super Tuesdays, a day devoted to all things Berkeley School Psychology. First, I finished my readings before classes. Then, from nine to noon, I attended class with my four cohort members. We discussed termination with clients and group therapy. Some of our discussions applied to my internship, and some did not. The remainder of the day was spent with another student creating a survey for a local high school; I am stoked, because my advisor is letting me use some of my own measurement scales about student engagement and motivation on his survey**. I also met with my advisor to review my progress on my reading list for my qualifying exams. Despite his strong feedback, I’m still freaked out. So I go back to the coffee shop to study.
Wednesday: Today, I was back at my internship. My day consisted of meeting with clients, most of whom wanted no business meeting with me. On the positive side, today was a calm day, so there are no physical restraints or fights. I am able to test of student’s cognitive functioning, and I completed the requisite paperwork that accompanies working at a non-public school (AB3632, anyone?). The back half the day is full of clinician meetings (again some of which are helpful, and some of which are not). During unhelpful sessions, I scribble notes about my qualifying exams on the borders of my papers.
Thursday: In my work with my clients, rapport can be a rare commodity, and so I strive for it anyway possible—even if that means driving a client and his Grandmother to San Leandro for a court date. So rather than going to the non-public school, I am working as a taxi driver/social worker/clinician. The court date goes well, and afterward I have a really productive meeting with the client, his grandmother, and his probation officer (Success!). I come back to the school for individual supervision with my clinical supervisor. The meeting is interrupted, because two students have managed to get on the roof of the school. I go outside with another intern to cajole these kids down to solid ground. Unfortunately, this was not a topic covered on Super Tuesday.
Friday: I have no internship on Friday, which means I can work on a publication today. My advisor and I are writing about the relationship between ethnic identity and academic achievement—interesting but complex stuff. After a few hours of writing, deleting, and re-writing, I realize that I haven’t read for my qualifying exam since Wednesday. I grab the headphones, order a mocha, and get back to the grindstone.
[… and close scene]
Hopefully, I’ve been able to show that my days and efforts are inherently splintered. We are trained as scientist-practitioners, which means that I have applied and research responsibilities. Half of my week is direct contact with students, and the other half is academic (i.e., training, reading, and writing). The splintered-ness can be stressful, but all told, the practice informs my research, and vice versa. I don’t always know what I’m doing, but the training, supervision, and experience are heading me down the road toward competence (I think!).
*The qualifying exam, also known as Orals, is the last big hurdle before I can begin work on my dissertation. The qualifying exam consists of four professors having a three-hour discussion over your research areas of interest.
**Nerd alert, I know. To be clear, data or the prospect of getting data is a graduate school victory, a dance-worthy victory.
So, to get a more authentic perspective, I asked a student from my alma matter, Leo White, to write a little sumthin' sumthin' about what it is like in a Ph.D. grad school program in school psych. Leo also has a blog, which is not exclusively school psychy, but has some great posts about life in grad school. Plus I think there's some interesting bike posts because he's like a freaky "I'm going to bike to Marin County 30 miles away today!" kind of person. And these people fascinate me because I would only do that if someone was chasing me and a bike was my only mode of transit.
Before I post Leo's guest post, I have to say the following:
1) I have deep concerns about Leo's caffeine intake.
2) I think he has really captured the chaos of balancing academics and practice, and feel like this is good prep for balancing the roles in the actual job; and
3) I wish Leo was my intern. I can always use a good "Sweetie-get-off-the-roof-coaxer" in my life.
Without further ado, I give you Leo:
Rebecca and I talked briefly about me writing a guest post as a current School Psychology student. Intimidated about having for follow Rebecca’s witty and informative posts, I hesitated. Nonetheless, I think this type of post would have been helpful for me a few years ago as a prospective student, so here goes…
As a grad student at Berkeley, each step of my school psychology program has been starkly different from the last. My first year was almost exclusively academic—coursework, term papers, attending talks from visiting professors, and sitting on committees that I did not completely understand. Next year, my focus was much more applied—serving internships for consultation (i.e., working collaboratively with teachers to work through student issues) and assessment (to use Rebecca’s term, Testival Time).
Now in my third year, I want to share my latest week with you.
[Action!]
Monday: The internship site, a non-public school setting for emotionally and behaviorally challenged students where I work as a clinician, is off today. This day off of work means I can put in some much-needed time studying for my qualifying exam*, which is less than three months away. So, I find my way to a coffee shop with my headphones (my chatter/music/lady-talking-on-her-cell-phone-cancelling headphones) and I plug away. Unfortunately, the day felt so much like Sunday that I almost forgot to read for my classes tomorrow. As a result, I switched gears and reviewed my class-assigned readings over dinner.
Tuesday: In my program, we have Super Tuesdays, a day devoted to all things Berkeley School Psychology. First, I finished my readings before classes. Then, from nine to noon, I attended class with my four cohort members. We discussed termination with clients and group therapy. Some of our discussions applied to my internship, and some did not. The remainder of the day was spent with another student creating a survey for a local high school; I am stoked, because my advisor is letting me use some of my own measurement scales about student engagement and motivation on his survey**. I also met with my advisor to review my progress on my reading list for my qualifying exams. Despite his strong feedback, I’m still freaked out. So I go back to the coffee shop to study.
Wednesday: Today, I was back at my internship. My day consisted of meeting with clients, most of whom wanted no business meeting with me. On the positive side, today was a calm day, so there are no physical restraints or fights. I am able to test of student’s cognitive functioning, and I completed the requisite paperwork that accompanies working at a non-public school (AB3632, anyone?). The back half the day is full of clinician meetings (again some of which are helpful, and some of which are not). During unhelpful sessions, I scribble notes about my qualifying exams on the borders of my papers.
Thursday: In my work with my clients, rapport can be a rare commodity, and so I strive for it anyway possible—even if that means driving a client and his Grandmother to San Leandro for a court date. So rather than going to the non-public school, I am working as a taxi driver/social worker/clinician. The court date goes well, and afterward I have a really productive meeting with the client, his grandmother, and his probation officer (Success!). I come back to the school for individual supervision with my clinical supervisor. The meeting is interrupted, because two students have managed to get on the roof of the school. I go outside with another intern to cajole these kids down to solid ground. Unfortunately, this was not a topic covered on Super Tuesday.
Friday: I have no internship on Friday, which means I can work on a publication today. My advisor and I are writing about the relationship between ethnic identity and academic achievement—interesting but complex stuff. After a few hours of writing, deleting, and re-writing, I realize that I haven’t read for my qualifying exam since Wednesday. I grab the headphones, order a mocha, and get back to the grindstone.
[… and close scene]
Hopefully, I’ve been able to show that my days and efforts are inherently splintered. We are trained as scientist-practitioners, which means that I have applied and research responsibilities. Half of my week is direct contact with students, and the other half is academic (i.e., training, reading, and writing). The splintered-ness can be stressful, but all told, the practice informs my research, and vice versa. I don’t always know what I’m doing, but the training, supervision, and experience are heading me down the road toward competence (I think!).
*The qualifying exam, also known as Orals, is the last big hurdle before I can begin work on my dissertation. The qualifying exam consists of four professors having a three-hour discussion over your research areas of interest.
**Nerd alert, I know. To be clear, data or the prospect of getting data is a graduate school victory, a dance-worthy victory.
Sunday, 16 January 2011
The Politics of Mental Health
Per my Sunday morning ritual, hubby and I watch Meet the Press and This Week while sipping coffee and eating waffles. In some ways, it’s a relaxing ritual, in other ways it is the opposite of relaxing. Today was one of those not-so-relaxing days. The coverage is all about the tragedy in Tuscon and I have gone between crying (the picture of 9 year old girl who was killed gets me every single time) and being enraged. I have also been encouraged that the pundits are actually talking about mental health issues. Mostly though, like many things in my life, I filter all information through my school psychologist lens.
I see kids all the time that could grow up to be Jared Lee Loughners. I can see them in elementary school. Their problems become more pronounced in middle school. In high school, they are often hidden in the crowd, or check out of attending school altogether. As a school psychologist, I have counseled kids who have witnessed shootings. I have counseled a teacher who was held up at gunpoint out front of our elementary school. I have pleaded with parents to take their child to a psychiatrist because of the danger to themselves or others. I have confiscated guns and knives from the backpacks of children. I even worked with a kid who later ended up murdering someone. And I have involuntarily committed children and adolescents who I knew posed an imminent threat.
Identifying troubled students is easy. Providing them resources and follow up care is hard. So often I sit at support staff meetings and the list of students who need counseling is far greater than our resources. I only have time to counsel about 5-10 students a year with my current case load. Many students are referred out to agencies, but the follow through by the families is often poor. The average ratio of school psychologists to students at last measure in 2000 was 1:1500, with the median being 1:2500. In some cases, it’s 1:5000. What can we do when we have thousands of kids we are responsible for and we are likely on a school site only one or two days a week?
I can’t imagine that Jared wasn’t ever referred for help in secondary school. Even if he had a late onset of mental illness, the community college certainly was aware of his needs. But like K-12 education, community colleges don’t have mental health resources either. Our new California governor’s budget protected K-12 to some degree, but slashed post-secondary education. Schools are the access point for so many students in need. Imagine if we had the resources to serve students with mental health needs. Could adequate mental health services have prevented this shooting? Unknown. Could it have lessened the chances? Probably.
I should note that predicting who will become a violent offender is a difficult business. It is especially hard to predict because of the rareness of the events. Statistically speaking, rare events are harder to predict (earthquakes, anyone?). There are far more students in need of mental health services that are not going to go on to shooting innocent people if they don’t get help. But they will go on to suffer. What matters to me most is preventing suffering. Mental health issues are still thought of as personal weakness in our society, and something to be ashamed to admit. We need to start a national conversation about how it takes personal strength to seek help. We need to recognize the connection between mental health and education. If you are not well emotionally, you are not ready to learn.
As I watch the media coverage in the aftermath of the tragedy, I can only hope it sheds some light on the real issue underlying the tragedy—that our education and mental health systems are in need of support. While I’m only one school psychologist in a big district, big country, big world, I know that if there were more mental health providers helping me reach troubled students, we could make a real difference.
The real challenge is for politicians to stop talking and start acting. Reverend Al Sharpton hit the nail on the head today on Meet the Press. He said that Martin Luther King, Jr. had concrete goals and legislation in addition to his overall civil rights beliefs. Without concrete, tangible goals, he would have only been a dreamer. I’m just left here, with my empty coffee mug and dreams of adequate mental health services in the schools, wondering what I can do next.
I see kids all the time that could grow up to be Jared Lee Loughners. I can see them in elementary school. Their problems become more pronounced in middle school. In high school, they are often hidden in the crowd, or check out of attending school altogether. As a school psychologist, I have counseled kids who have witnessed shootings. I have counseled a teacher who was held up at gunpoint out front of our elementary school. I have pleaded with parents to take their child to a psychiatrist because of the danger to themselves or others. I have confiscated guns and knives from the backpacks of children. I even worked with a kid who later ended up murdering someone. And I have involuntarily committed children and adolescents who I knew posed an imminent threat.
Identifying troubled students is easy. Providing them resources and follow up care is hard. So often I sit at support staff meetings and the list of students who need counseling is far greater than our resources. I only have time to counsel about 5-10 students a year with my current case load. Many students are referred out to agencies, but the follow through by the families is often poor. The average ratio of school psychologists to students at last measure in 2000 was 1:1500, with the median being 1:2500. In some cases, it’s 1:5000. What can we do when we have thousands of kids we are responsible for and we are likely on a school site only one or two days a week?
I can’t imagine that Jared wasn’t ever referred for help in secondary school. Even if he had a late onset of mental illness, the community college certainly was aware of his needs. But like K-12 education, community colleges don’t have mental health resources either. Our new California governor’s budget protected K-12 to some degree, but slashed post-secondary education. Schools are the access point for so many students in need. Imagine if we had the resources to serve students with mental health needs. Could adequate mental health services have prevented this shooting? Unknown. Could it have lessened the chances? Probably.
I should note that predicting who will become a violent offender is a difficult business. It is especially hard to predict because of the rareness of the events. Statistically speaking, rare events are harder to predict (earthquakes, anyone?). There are far more students in need of mental health services that are not going to go on to shooting innocent people if they don’t get help. But they will go on to suffer. What matters to me most is preventing suffering. Mental health issues are still thought of as personal weakness in our society, and something to be ashamed to admit. We need to start a national conversation about how it takes personal strength to seek help. We need to recognize the connection between mental health and education. If you are not well emotionally, you are not ready to learn.
As I watch the media coverage in the aftermath of the tragedy, I can only hope it sheds some light on the real issue underlying the tragedy—that our education and mental health systems are in need of support. While I’m only one school psychologist in a big district, big country, big world, I know that if there were more mental health providers helping me reach troubled students, we could make a real difference.
The real challenge is for politicians to stop talking and start acting. Reverend Al Sharpton hit the nail on the head today on Meet the Press. He said that Martin Luther King, Jr. had concrete goals and legislation in addition to his overall civil rights beliefs. Without concrete, tangible goals, he would have only been a dreamer. I’m just left here, with my empty coffee mug and dreams of adequate mental health services in the schools, wondering what I can do next.
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