It's been three weeks since the first day of school. I have eight kids in my classroom. "Easy", I thought, on that first day before the kids came. "I'll just do it, and then at 3:30, it will be over".
I'm learning that I have this strange perception of my ability to handle things. I naively think that I can do pretty much anything. I usually think in relativity to time. It goes a little something like this: "I can handle anything. It might suck for a while, but I'll just do it, and then it will be over." Like when I moved the queen size mattress up our stairs all by myself. I thought, "hmmm. It will be 20 minutes of frustration and using all of my body strength. There will be lots of manuvering, and I might get hurt, but I'll just do it, and then it will be over." Or like when I ran a full marathon, "It will be 4 1/2 hours of moving my body. I will get really tired and sore, but I'll just do it, and then it will be over." And so, it was this weird concept of perseverence that got me reved up and ready to go on the first day. Then the kids showed up.
Without going into too much detail, I will tell you that nothing could have prepared me for what was to come that first day. With my cute tall boots and my favorite pencil skirt, I walked up to the arriving bus to greet the kids as they got off the bus. (Yes, it's the short bus). I was blown away. I saw kids with disabilities so severe that I was actually a little scared of them when they got off of the bus. I was not the only one who was scared...they were also not pleased with what they saw. I was their new teacher, this was a new classroom, and most importantly, it was a transition in their life. And it is transitions that make them most uneasy and unwilling. I will spare most details, but I will mention that there was a lot of biting, scratching, screaming, throw up, poop, and lots and lots of tears. And the worst part was: it was not "over at 3:30". It was not something that I would just "do, and then it will be over". It was my job. Everyday.
The next day came and it was not much different than the first. I kind of wanted to give up and just let them sit in the room all day and do what they want. A daycare. I wouldn't get scratched or bitten, they wouldn't scream and cry. And I'd still get paid the same.
Then by the third day, I was learning. I learned who needed to sit in a certain corner of the room so that sunlight didn't touch them. I learned who needed to chew on something so they could focus. I learned who needed a garbage can next to them for when they had to throw up. I learned who needed classical music, who needed loud, repetitive music, and who needed complete silence. I learned who needed a little back rub and who needed to be completely untouched. I learned that giving up on teaching them is the last thing I could do. And that my job was more than something "to do, and then be done with".
Now we have had three weeks of school. I'm still learning about my kids and they're still learning about me. There is structure and routine, which is something I thought would take months to get. When I say, "circle time" the wheelchairs start turning and the kids slowly start to come over to me, moaning and groaning.
It is not easy, but, I think I can handle it. I really love these kids...even the scary ones.
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