Last week I had the pleasure (I write pleasure with great sarcasm ) of taking one of my students to the Elks Mobile Dentist.  In theory, the concept of a mobile dentist is wonderful.  It is difficult to find dentists who will work on people with special needs, and this RV, equipped with a dental chair and other various dental equipment, travels all over the area providing dental care free of charge to its patients.  If I understand correctly, there's a kick back for the dentist as well. If they promise two years of service, the dentist's student loans are forgiven.  I am learning, though, that there are many things in special education that are wonderful "in theory," but in reality can be somewhat of a nightmare.

Our school gets the dental van right after Winter Break.  It's the first thing the poor kids see as they ride the bus into the school parking lot.  If you look pay close attention on that first day back you can see faces drop as they pass the van and pull around the circle drive.  They hate the dentist.  

Parents are given paperwork to fill out and turn in if they would like their child to visit the dentist.  For about three weeks our students, and others in the community with special needs, are examined.  The van then leaves for two or three weeks (I've yet to figure out why) and returns until they get all of their patients seen. 

One major flaw in this system is that neither the students or teachers have an advanced warning as to when the student will be visiting the dentist.  For once, the lucky students are the ones with heart defects, as they are required to have an antibiotic two hours before they see the dentist.  If the school nurse comes in and tries to feed one of my students drug laced applesauce, I know we'll be seeing the dentist in a couple of hours.  Otherwise, if the student does not have a heart defect, we have no notice, and when the hygienist summons, we must follow.

I give all of this background information to prepare you for my next post.  As one of my students was darting between cars in the parking lot as a last ditch effort to get out of her dentist visit (and I was chasing her), I realized how traumatic a visit to the Elks Mobile Dentist truly is.

So, stay tuned for

How a visit to the Elks Mobile Dentist Parallels Death 

Here's a Quarter, Call Someone Who Cares

While in Seattle, I got to experience public transportation first hand. Being a Midwesterner, I contribute to global warming by commuting to work, by myself, in a car and have only seen commuter lanes on TV, much less a city bus (ok, slight exaggeration).

Upon deciding to ride the bus from the airport to the hotel instead of getting a taxi, my traveling companion kept saying, "You know this isn't going to be glamorous, right?" Of course, of course. I'm Darcie. I know everything.

I may know everything, but that didn't keep me from wearing my boots with heels (my logic was snow) and packing an extra large suitcase for a less than 48 hour trip (reasoning for that one-?).

So, we get on the bus at the airport and have to hoof it to the back to find a space large enough for my monstrosity of a suitcase. We sit caddy cornered from a man speaking really fast into a cell phone, so fast I think he's speaking another language. About five minutes into the ride I feel a tap on my shoulder:

"Hey, my ride isn't coming to get me. Can I have two dollars?"
(again, so fast, I think he's speaking another language)

I finally translated what he said and frantically searched the database that is my mind for every Oprah episode on safety. Coming up blank I decided just to give him the money so he wouldn't kill me. I begin to dig through my purse, and then I'm reminded by my dear friend how stupid that is, because he can see how much money I have and kill me to get it.

I'm begininning to panic, because in my irrational thinking, either choice I make will result in death.

I start to dig in my coat pockets.
"Ummm......ummm.....my money is all packed away and I don't want to dig it out." (a bit of a fib).
I find a quarter.
"All I have is this quarter."
Obviously irked, he rejects my offering and starts talking into his phone.

Hoping I'm safe, but not making eye contact just in case, I keep a death grip on my suitcase and hope to heaven that he gets off of the bus before we do.

About ten minutes later I hear his phone slam shut, and I feel a tap on my shoulder.

"Ma'am. On second thought, I'll take that quarter."

Sheepishly, I hand him the quarter and feel like a total jerk.

(but at least I have a good story to tell)

My Confession

While cleaning the bathroom the other night, my mind drifted back to something bad I did several years ago, something very, very bad.  I was about eleven or twelve and unwillingly, I'm sure, cleaning the bathroom for my nightly chore.  As I was taking everything off of the sink I remember thinking to myself, "Darcie, you better put the toilet lid down." Being in a rush (I'm sure I was anxious to get back to my Hanson album or eager chat on the phone about my latest crush), I didn't.  The next thing I knew, the container of toothbrushes was falling.

Into the toilet.

I reached in and dug them out.

I ran them under some hot water.

I put them back (except my own, of course).

I told no one.

Ignorance is bliss, right?

What's the worst thing you've ever done?

(and please keep it to legal things-or mostly legal.  I don't want to feel morally obligated to report your crime)

Diversity Day

For those of you who watch "The Office" and know what I'm talking about, I had a very "Diversity Day" moment at work today.  When walking by the water fountains in the hall, I saw two signs posted above each one-"Whites Only" and "Coloreds Only."  Then, in the lunchroom, a couple of teachers were segregating lunch tables by race.  

Does anyone else remember the population of students my school serves?  

I was just waiting/hoping for Michael Scott to pop out of the corner...

Teacher Of the Year?

One of the many sad things I see at my school is the parent's denial of the reality of the severity of their child's impairment.  For example, one mother told us that her child, who was due to graduate,  was going to college, when in reality he didn't even qualify for admission into a sheltered workshop.  It is difficult to deny a parent that hope when you know how very difficult their life is and that hope may be the one thing getting he or she through each day.

One particular student of mine has frequent seizures, often several per day.  Her school attendance is sporadic, and when she is at school she is not very responsive or verbal.  Her mother has claimed for years that this girl speaks in full sentences at home and is quite independent.  At first, we all believed this and for months attempted everything imaginable to get this child to speak at school. Her mother was very upset at my frequent reports of silence, and I began to realize that this parent was clinging to that little shred of hope that helped her feel like her daughter's situation was not so hopeless.   

It came time for this student's IEP meeting, and most of the goals she should work toward in the upcoming year, I decided, would involve her communication.  Her mother seemed a bit upset by this, and kept saying, "I just don't understand.  She speaks all of the time at home."  I just gave her my "you-poor-delusional-thing" smile, and we wrapped up the meeting.  

We walked back to the classroom so the mother could tell her daughter goodbye.  As usual, the student was dosing.  Her mother walked over to her, gently kissed her, and turned to leave.  All of a sudden this girl, fully alert, made a noise that sounded similar to Xena the Warrior Princess and shouted,  "Mama!  Mama!  Get me out of this place!"

Her mother said, "Baby, good talking," looked at me and gave me the same smile I had given her only minutes before, and left.

So much for Teacher of the Year...

(on a side note, as I'm taking my night classes at UCM, I keep my eyes open for the former student whose mother said he was college bound.  I now believe pretty much every outrageous thing parents say)

Puppy Love

At the risk of portraying myself as a crazy cat (or dog, I guess) lady, I'm posting some pup pictures.

They still insist on sleeping with me (under the covers), and last night we put on quite the static electricity light show between their fur, my fleece pants, and the flannel sheets.  After overcoming some obstacles (their incessant licking and my own tactile defensiveness), my little dog sitting friends are growing on me.