A Cup of Coffee Solves Everything

As all of my faithful readers probably know by now, I love coffee and believe that it can simply solve most of life's problems.  That is why I keep a coffee pot in my classroom.

Also, my faithful readers probably know that Talker tends to fixate on things or phrases, either appropriate or not (I won't give an example), feasible or not (like that day she wanted Chinese food).  Today, my dear Talker decided that she would fixate on coffee.  

A good chunk of our morning is spent doing "jobs," and after each "job" the student is able to earn a small reward like a pretzel (usually Talker's favorite), a stick of gum,  a squirt of smelly lotion, etc.  Today, none of these treats were motivating.  She wanted coffee (mind you, I have never, ever given one of my students coffee).  I blew her off and just kept reminding her that she loved pretzels.  

Then, poor Autistic Mess had a particularly long and rough episode (for me and for him).  The class had to be evacuated, and although these episodes are frequent, it is still upsetting for the other kids to see.

After twenty minutes or so of deportation, Talker and friends returned to the classroom.  

She still wanted coffee.

I relented, feeling bad that her routine had been disrupted, and found some decaf and fixed her a cup, even though I knew she wasn't going to like it.  

She took a few swigs and said, "Sugar please."  I offered her a spoonful of sugar, and she poured it in and stirred it like a pro.  She took a sip and said, "Mmmmm...good," and within a couple of minutes, much to my disbelief, it was all gone.

I now know that it is true.  

A cup of coffee can solve everything.

The Pledge Of Allegiance (Arranged By My Talker)

We do snack first thing in the morning.  Ok, scratch that-not first thing in the morning.  We take attendance, have calendar time, say the Pledge and sign the alphabet before snack.  Snack is so early in the day because it is questionable if all of my students have had breakfast before coming to school.  In order to minimize behavior incidents and maximize performance, we eat early (and sometimes eat and eat and eat).

One particular morning, my dear Talker could barely wait for snack time, but she knows the routine and was trying really hard to accept the fact that she had to wait.

Here is her version of the Pledge of Allegiance that morning:

I pledge allegiance

I want a snack

To the United States of America

Flag

Flag

Flag

I want a snack

And for those of you who were wondering, after I regained my composure, she got her snack.

Oogles From Googles

Like all bloggers, I love seeing where my blog visitors come from.  One of the perks of having a blog legend for a friend is large amount of traffic from her site (thanks 6YearMed!).  Lately, though, I've noticed on Sitemeter that I've been generating quite a bit of traffic on my own-from my weird titles and Google searches.  My favorite searches so far have been:

• Bears in Bondage
• Tales From the Toilet
• Who is known as the "Potty Mouth Diva?

Anyone else notice any weird searches that led strange visitors to their site?

(That title is awful, I know)

The Day I Lost My Cool

Ok, for the sake of honesty, perhaps I should entitle this post "One of the Many Days I've Lost My Cool."

My school is divided into three age groups-primary, intermediate, and young adult. My kids fall in the intermediate group, and sometimes I feel feel we're the rejects of the school. We're not cute like the primaries and we don't get to do all of the cool vocational stuff of the young adults. We're stuck in that weird place somewhere in the middle.

This becomes really evident during all-school events. One Friday each month, we have a "Drive In Movie," which is just a movie projected onto a big screen in the gym. Everyone brings in beanbags, blankets and pillows, and popcorn and Kool-Aid are served. The older kids love to be around my kids, but mainly so they can boss them around. The younger kids, well, they just sit there and look cute. The experience is kind of fun, but stressful, all at the same time.

My classroom is lucky enough to have some pretty swanky beanbags that are the envy of the young adult group. During these movie days, I have to be on my game to make sure that my kids don't have their beanbags taken away from them by an older, intimidating student.

This particular day (the day I lost my cool) I wasn't on my game. I'd snuck out of the gym to use the restroom (despite all the time I spend in there, I rarely get to go), and upon my return I found my girl with Down's lying on the floor--without her beanbag. Next to her, and older boy was sprawled out--on her beanbag.

My mothering instinct kicked in, and the following conversation took place:

Me: "Older Boy, is that your beanbag?"

Older Boy: "Uh huh."

Me: "Oh really? That's not Down's Girl's beanbag?"

Older Boy (not making eye contact): "Nope."

And here's where I lost it:

Me (pulling the beanbag out from underneath him): "Liar!"

Older Boy: (Silence)

Yes, folks, I called a kid a liar.

I tried to redeem myself by apologizing and giving him the "we can't take other people's things" chat, but seriously, whose going to take an adult seriously who just lost her cool?

So, if you ever think I'm a saint, remember this incident-

The (one of many) Day(s) I Lost My Cool. 

Why?

I am a procrastinator.  

Once again, I have put off two major projects until the day before they are due.

Once again, I am kicking myself

Here is what I looked like when I began at 2:00 this afternoon-pretty chipper.

Here is how I look eight hours later, knowing I have at least 2 hours left.

(I'm in my brother's bedroom who has had the same wallpaper since he was four)

Why oh why do I do this to myself?

It Might Be Hope

I know that a lot of times on here I make my job sound light hearted and fun, and a lot of times it is.  Unfortunately, there are a lot of dark times, too.  I've seen situations I never even imagined existed.  I have cried and made myself sick over things I can never change and often question why on earth I am in this field when in reality, I can't make that big of a difference when there are so many impossible hurdles in these children's lives.  I'm not writing this to make myself seem saintly or to fish for compliments.  I just want to be honest and tell you that is how it is.

Today, though, I got a tiny little reminder of why I do what I do.  It had been an awful morning.I accidently dumped a bucket of ice in the hall and made a huge mess.  My Talker wailed ALL morning because she wanted Chinese food and hated school.  Another student was zipping around her wheelchair plowing into everything/everyone in her path.  When I told her she needed to walk (because she can) she'd scream.  Then my poor Autistic Mess had one of his self-abusive fits of rage.  I hate watching him hurt himself, and one of the only ways to get him to stop is to pin his arms behind his back and (gently) take him down to the ground.  I hate doing this, but the alternative is much worse.  After I got him down for about ten minutes he calmed down and went his corner to rest.

As everyone knows, many people with autism seem indifferent to those around them, and show little affection, especially not in traditional ways.  As we were preparing to go to lunch twenty minutes later, I felt a tap on my arm.  I turned to see my guy tapping the inside of my forearm with index and middle finger and looking at me as if to say "thank you," and in his eyes, behind all of his demons, I saw a little trace of hope.

A behavior/curriculum specialist has been working with my classroom, trying to help me figure out what to do with my poor Autistic Mess.  She has great ideas that will hopefully reduce some self (and staff) injurious behavior.  Right after practicing a "Cops" like maneuver that's used to safely calm an out-of-control student, she said my new favorite line:

"Everyone expects to get hit, scratched and kicked when they start working in special ed, but no one should get hurt!"

Tales From The Toilet, Part 2

I always know if someone is into some mischief if they've been in the bathroom a long time and they're being quiet.  If the toilet is repeatedly flushing, I know that's ok because my Autistic Mess is just watching the water swirl around.  If I hear my Talker singing, I know she's doing what she needs to do, but like I said, silence is the dead giveaway.  

Once after a long period of silence, I've walked in to find an entire bottle of Gold Bond powder dumped all over the restroom.  Another time, I walked in to find an container of self feeding baby wipes pulled out one by one.  

These are mild, and pretty normal, though, compared to how I found my Talker the other day. She went into the restroom and was singing.  Then, the singing stopped.  She didn't come out, and she didn't come out.  The singing began again, and I decided to walk into the restroom to see what was going on.  In I go to find her without a shirt wearing a pair of latex gloves, hitting her naked stomach singing the infamous "Push It Out Song."

She'd never done it before, and I've never seen her do it again, and boy oh boy I would love to know what was going through her head at that moment (and you probably don't want to know what was going through mine-haha).