Tag Archives: education

Teachers: Who’s on Your Team?

This is a question for all the teachers out there.  Who’s on your team?  Other teachers?  Check.  The administration?  If you’re lucky.  Parents?  If you’re smart.  So…what about your students?

little monstersLook, I taught in the classroom for ten years, and I know how easy it is to slip into thinking about you and your students as Me versus Them.  Walk into the teacher’s lounge and you’re likely to get that feeling reinforced.  “Don’t let them get you down!” colleagues will say.  “You show them who’s boss.”  Now it’s Us against Them.  Teachers versus Students.

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Developing Details in Writing: Beyond Visualize and Verbalize, Part 1

We’ve all had the kids whose parents come in and say, “He’s been reading forever and his spelling and grammar are great. But somehow he never gets inferences and he just melts down when he is given a writing task.” Maybe you are lucky enough that this student comes with testing; maybe you’re the first one who’s seen him.

So, the question is, how do you get them to write?

My go-to on these kids is Lindamood Bell’s Visualize and Verbalize program. It helps connect the pictures of the right side of the brain with the words on the left side of the brain. It helps develop both receptive language (oral and reading comprehension) and expressive language (speaking and writing).

But then what? Pure V & V is often done all session long, but for me after about 20 minutes of it, I need to switch activities. This is where I reach into my tool belt and pull out…hmm…one set of pictures of animals from a calendar (donate to World Wildlife Fund once and you are set for life); two identical magnetic scene builders; a file folder; pattern blocks; notecards. Ready?

The first rule of all of these activities? Always call it a game. As in, “Oh, I have a great game we can play…” or “In this game, you will…” The great thing about kids is, if you call it a game, it’s a game.

So, in the first game, you spread out fifteen to twenty of your small pictures of animals (I cut the preview pictures off the backs of the calendars). Arrange them in rows facing the student. Hand her a notecard and get one for yourself. Explain that she is going to pick one of the pictures secretly without telling you what it is. Then she is going to describe it as fully as possible (if you have been using V & V, remind her of the structure words) without using the name of the animal! Make sure she realizes the goal is to get you to guess it; otherwise students try to be mysterious and confusing, which is definitely not the skill we are trying to teach.

You will do the same. This is a great way to model the kind of richly descriptive writing you want. Believe me, the student will notice if your card is full and she has one or two sentences on hers: great motivation for the next round. When you are each done writing, you read your description to her. When she gets it, ask what gave it away. Then she reads you her card. I make a big show of thinking it aloud: “Hmm. You said the animal was a baby, so it must be one of these five. (I physically sort the pictures as I am talking.) You said it was red, so it can’t be this one. You said it had feathers, so is it this one?” If there is possible confusion in the description, make sure not to be able to figure it out. “Hmm, that narrows it down to these two. Can you read the description again? I am not sure which one it is.” Make sure to play this multiple times so your student has a chance to get better, and then point out her growth to her!

A lot of these same kids have some trouble reading complex facial expressions, so one variation of the game is to use photos of people–either ones you have found in magazines, or a deck of emotions face cards. It all works the same way, but you can fold in discussions about feelings as well. I also like asking, “What do you think happened right before the photo was taken that made her feel this way?”

So, what do you do with the scene builders, the file folder and the pattern blocks, you ask? Well, you’ll have to wait until Part II to find out!

This post originally appeared under the Writing Interventions section of the Association of Educational Therapists website.

In Praise of Neuro-Diversity

So, I have this student, let’s call her Lisa.  Lisa is a fifteen year old with a rare chromosomal abnormality.  She presents as someone with pretty severe autism: she barely makes eye contact, but is fully verbal.  She has a personal relationship with the technical gadgets in a room (“Ask Printer if he knows the answer,” “It’s Projector’s turn to do a problem,”), but she won’t remember the names of students she’s been in class with for months.  She has trouble reading a clock or counting change with automaticity, but she is one of my best Algebra students.  You read that right: one of my very best Algebra students.  She uses a white board (only the one with curved edges, not the square corners, and only with a blue dry-erase marker, never another color, especially not pink) to do all her work because her fine motor skills make it hard to fit side-work onto a single sheet of paper, but she unerringly knows what procedure to use when and applies her knowledge with almost complete accuracy.

I taught Lisa in the classroom for two years until I decided to quit classroom teaching and focus solely on my private Educational Therapy practice.  Now Lisa comes to my home office twice a week for Algebra, while at school she will still be trying to become automatic at reading a clock and counting out change. Now, I knew that it would take Lisa a little while to get comfortable in her new surroundings, so the first time she came to my house, I ask if she wants to meet my husband, since he’d be around now and again.

“Nah,” she says, “Where’s your printer?”  Silly me.  She wanted to get straight to what’s important.  So I show her my printer.

“He’s an HP, like the downstairs one [at my house].  What kind is he?”

I read her the name, “HP Photosmart Premium.”

“Huh,” she says.  “Why do you have the pencil sharpener in front of him?”

“Oh,” I say, “That’s because there is no paper tray and that keeps the papers from falling on the floor.”

“Huh.  He probably has a tray.”

“No, I’ve looked all over, and there isn’t a tray.  Let’s do some math.”

She pauses in the middle of a problem, eyebrows furrowed.  “The tray is probably underneath him.”

“No.  I looked.  I looked underneath and all around.  There isn’t a tray.”

“Huh.”  Lisa finishes her problem and asks for a break.

“Ok.  Do you want a white board break?”

“Nah.  Let’s look for your tray.”

Realizing it is useless to argue, I let Lisa go search for a tray I know is not there, just so she can let her pre-occupation go.

And she finds the tray.

Four years I’ve owned this printer and never found that stupid little tray, and within five seconds she has it pulled out and all set up for me.

In my (admittedly weak) defense, I tell her that I thought the little indentation under which the tray was hidden was a thumb rest.

“Huh.”

Over the course of the next three sessions, Lisa says, “You thought it was a thumb rest.  But really it was a little tray.”

Everyone in the LD community struggles with the choice To Label or Not To Label.  Of course we don’t want our kids stigmatized or limited by their diagnoses; each of them is so much more than just “dyslexic” or “autistic” or any other word you could put in quotations.  On the other hand, a diagnosis provides a shorthand for the types of interventions, remediations and accommodations that may help.  And we can’t forget (how could we?) that a diagnosis is required for services both at school and after.  Most importantly, a diagnosis can circumscribe a student’s disability–instead of feeling globally stupid or lazy, suddenly a child (and his or her parents and teachers) can make sense of the pattern of weaknesses and strengths and can realize that a variety of problems actually all arise from one specific source.  After all, the word define is related to making finite rather than infinite.  But we as teachers, educational therapists and parents, we have to understand that we are defining and circumscribing the learning disability, not the student.  Lisa was, and continues to be, a marvelous reminder to me that, to paraphrase S.I. Hayakawa, the diagnosis is not the student.  Thanks, Lisa.  You’ve taught me so much.  Including where my paper tray is.

First Day (Aaaahhhh!) Jitters

I walked into Staples and saw them.  Signs plastered everywhere: Back to School Sale.  My stomach tightened, my palms sweat and my heart skipped a beat.  As much as I or any teacher loves teaching, there is always that inevitable dread that comes as August winds down and September looms.  If this is true for we adults, who have been through 1st days of school twenty, maybe thirty or more times (even brand-spanking new teachers have already gone through their own twelve first days plus four in college), just think of how it feels to the little ones we teach.  Even the kids who love school, thrive in an academic environment, miss the easily-found social time of recess and lunch, or feel soothed by the structure and predictability of a regular school day feel some level of apprehension facing that very first day all over again.  Just think what it is like for the kids who struggle academically, socially or attentionally.

So, what’s a sensitive, caring, emotionally savvy teacher to do?  The first and most important step in helping your kids (and, let’s be honest here, yourself) deal with the first day jitters is to acknowledge them.  My master teacher lo these many years ago started out the first class meeting the first day of school by saying, “I’ve been through 48 first days of school and you know what?  I still couldn’t sleep last night wondering about what it would be like this year.”  You could hear the kids sigh their collective relief.  You mean this is normal?  I’m supposed to feel this way?

I always planned my first week curriculum around these very human fears.  The first day, we read aloud Kevin Henke’s wonderfully charming Wemberly Worried.  Oy, what a worrier Wemberly is!  She’ll make your most anxious student look as calm as the Dalai Lama.  And Wemberly’s newest and biggest anxiety of all?  School!

The second day, I read Shel Silverstein’s poem, “What if?”  which ranges from “Whatif I’m dumb in school?” to “Whatif green hair grows on my chest?”  Needless to say, kids (and teachers!) love it.

Lest you (or your administrator) get too worried about “wasting” time on socio-emotional issues rather than “the real” (hah!) curriculum, I have my kids follow up, first by inventing their own What if‘s (connecting self to text, and making a great bulletin board to boot), and then by comparing and contrasting Wemberly Worried and What if? (connecting text to text, venn diagram and all).

Of course, these activities don’t take all the dread away from the beginning of school, and they sure don’t make up for having to get up early again, but they do help kids feel normal, even when their feelings are uncomfortable.  And that helps to set up the class for a really great year.