Up until I had Natalie I spent the majority of my waking hours with kids. (Big surprise that I like being a mom.)
I was an Early Childhood Special Educator. Technically, I was an Early Interventionist/Early Childhood Special Educator or EI/ECSE because the Special Ed world just can't get enough acronyms.
I LOVED my job. I loved almost everything about it. I loved the crazy kids. I loved the crazy parents. I loved the perspective it gave me on life. I loved my co-workers. I loved almost everything. Almost.
I didn't love the paperwork. I didn't love the crunch-time stress. I didn't love feeling like I could never quite give enough, teach enough, or basically fully do my job. And I didn't love how there were just some things I couldn't say or do because I had to draw the line and be a professional teacher who liked and wanted to keep her job.
So, for all you rock star parents who live on 3.2 hours of sleep and know to only serve dinner on the blue Thomas plate, this is for you...
What Your Special Ed. Teacher Would Like You To Know, but Probably Can't Say:
I didn't make up the acronyms and I hate them too. But in the long run, it really does speed up the process and eventually, you may even laugh over them with like-minded parents.
If I'm really, really lucky, I have 20 kids on my caseload. If I'm not, I have 100. And I have to make up one of those 10 page IFSP/IEPs for every. single. kid. So give me a little grace if I spell something wrong or put the same goal on there twice. If I put the wrong kid's name on it, you can call me out.
There are some questions I can't answer because I'm not a doctor. (Even if I actually know more about the subject than your pediatrician. Apparently, even though I have fancy acronyms behind my name too, EI/ECSE doesn't hold up in court if you sue me over my advice.)
It's okay to discipline your child. Every family should have rules and boundaries in place that are important to them. Obviously, you will have to adjust the expectations for a child with a disability, but that doesn't mean that you can never say "no" again. You can. And you should.
There are some bad teachers out there. I'm sorry. If you get one, try asking for a different one. So long as you don't live in a small rural area where the choices are limited, you may just find someone who you and your child love. If you have had multiple "bad" teachers, you might want to take a minute to check yourself. This journey is rough and it may have banged you up enough that you're looking for the perfect teacher/specialist/miracle worker. I'll save you the headache- he/she doesn't exist. Even the best teachers aren't perfect.
It's okay to nag. Remember that caseload count? I really do care about your child and I really did mean to send home that paper/picture/fill-in-the-blank that you asked me for last week. But I got busy. Teaching your kid. And his 19/199 friends.
Try to spend less time googling and webmding and more time just hanging out with your child. (Don't kill me, I just said try.)
Get to know the bus driver and treat them well. Enough said.
Keep in touch. It's so hard to pour so much into a little person and then never hear about them again. I LOVE to hear how my old students are doing. (Okay, so we're allowed to say this one, but I thought it was worth mentioning again because no one ever does it!)
Instead of the cute chalkboard themed necklace you are considering giving me as an end of the year gift, get me a Dollar Store gift card. Or Michaels. Or The Learning Palace. I spend half my paycheck on things for the classroom there anyways.
If you see me in a grocery store or at the mall or basically anywhere except at drop-off in the morning, I'm technically not supposed to say hello until you greet me. I'm not being rude, I just literally can't acknowledge that I know you without breaking my confidentiality rules. (Yeah, I broke this one. Every single time. Dumbest rule EVER.)
I want to do more but I can't. If I'm a good teacher, this thought sometimes keeps me up at night. There's simply not enough time, money, EAs, education, new research...there's simply not enough me. This is why I have a theory that rich reclusive nuns would make great special education teachers. They could pour their lives (and fortunes) into nothing else but the kids.
And last, but not least, food is always appreciated. Particularly cookies. Particularly homemade chocolate chip cookies.
Welcome to Holland. Or Tiajuana. Or wherever. It's going to be okay.
There are some bad teachers out there. I'm sorry. If you get one, try asking for a different one. So long as you don't live in a small rural area where the choices are limited, you may just find someone who you and your child love. If you have had multiple "bad" teachers, you might want to take a minute to check yourself. This journey is rough and it may have banged you up enough that you're looking for the perfect teacher/specialist/miracle worker. I'll save you the headache- he/she doesn't exist. Even the best teachers aren't perfect.
It's okay to nag. Remember that caseload count? I really do care about your child and I really did mean to send home that paper/picture/fill-in-the-blank that you asked me for last week. But I got busy. Teaching your kid. And his 19/199 friends.
Try to spend less time googling and webmding and more time just hanging out with your child. (Don't kill me, I just said try.)
Get to know the bus driver and treat them well. Enough said.
Keep in touch. It's so hard to pour so much into a little person and then never hear about them again. I LOVE to hear how my old students are doing. (Okay, so we're allowed to say this one, but I thought it was worth mentioning again because no one ever does it!)
Instead of the cute chalkboard themed necklace you are considering giving me as an end of the year gift, get me a Dollar Store gift card. Or Michaels. Or The Learning Palace. I spend half my paycheck on things for the classroom there anyways.
If you see me in a grocery store or at the mall or basically anywhere except at drop-off in the morning, I'm technically not supposed to say hello until you greet me. I'm not being rude, I just literally can't acknowledge that I know you without breaking my confidentiality rules. (Yeah, I broke this one. Every single time. Dumbest rule EVER.)
I want to do more but I can't. If I'm a good teacher, this thought sometimes keeps me up at night. There's simply not enough time, money, EAs, education, new research...there's simply not enough me. This is why I have a theory that rich reclusive nuns would make great special education teachers. They could pour their lives (and fortunes) into nothing else but the kids.
And last, but not least, food is always appreciated. Particularly cookies. Particularly homemade chocolate chip cookies.
Welcome to Holland. Or Tiajuana. Or wherever. It's going to be okay.
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