About three months ago I filled out the paperwork applying for a summer job of some sort with the Unified School District. I had received very good ratings from the principal and teachers at the school I recently described, so I felt I had good chances of landing one.
Days passed. More days passed. And still more days passed. As we got into June and the normal school year ended, I concluded that I had not been assigned a job so I should plan for other work to sustain me through the summer. Then late on a Friday before summer session was to start (on Monday), I received an email assigning me to an elementary school, and naming the teacher who would be in charge of the classroom. Never mind that classes started several days later. Never mind that I might well have made other plans. Never mind that I wasn't told anything about the class I would be assisting in. At least it was a job ! And I assumed I would still be classified as an "Intervention Specialist," teaching and tutoring kids one-on-one according to their educational needs.
I reported at the assigned time and date, found the classroom, and met the teacher, a pleasant fellow who himself, he told me, had only learned a week earlier that he, too, had a summer assignment. And our students began arriving. There were about 8 of them, with 5 adults in the classroom. I was assigned to be the one-on-one for a young man I will call Jack. Jack is about ten, and as events unfolded I learned that he is not only seriously autistic, but that he also has a serious case of attention deficit disorder.
The teacher told me a few days later that he was absolutely surprised at the type of students in the class. They all had serious autism. Most other than Jack could pay attention to something for a while. Jack, however, could not focus on anything for more than 15 - 30 seconds. One could get him to sit down, but only for about ten seconds. Then he would stand up and start walking rapidly all around the classroom, usually in the same pattern, usually investigating the same places he had previously investigated. If one were lucky, it might be possible to get Jack to repeat a word. But normally he did not speak. He lacked fine motor skills and was unable to draw a straight line between two points.
I am used to dealing with students who can talk, discuss, question, and express their thoughts. The only thoughts Jack seemed able to express was an interest in a few of the foods his mother packed for him for lunch, and whether or not he had to go to the bathroom. (Thankfully when he needs to go the the bathroom he volunteers this.)
Jack takes medication to slow him down a bit, but he is still uncontrollably restless. And he paces more rapidly than most people could, To burn off energy, twice during the four hours I am assigned to watch over him, I am instructed to take him out to the playground. This is a vast, paved area with a few basketball baskets. It is surrounded by a high chain link fence. And Jack paces from one end to the other end perhaps 200 feet away, then turns around and paces back. Over and over and over.
There seems to be nothing cognitive that I can teach him. The teacher in charge suggested a series of blocks and plastic shapes that can be arranged inside similarly-shaped cutouts. Jack has that mastered and fits eight shapes into their appropriate places with no hesitation. There are plastic cubes that fit into each other and form long chains. Jack will fit one or two of these together easily. Then he jumps up from his chair and is off again pacing around the classroom. He knows how to count to ten, but is uninterested in doing so. He also cannot concentrate on stories. Two sentences into a story and he is off pacing again. My job at that point is to make sure he doesn't fool around with electrical plugs or the fire alarm and fire hose in the room. He will dit down when directed -- but only for about five or ten seconds.
I like Jack. I think he is a sweet kid. He comes over every so often and hugs me and the other adults in the room. He is friendly, not hostile. But I find myself reflecting most of the time every single day I work in this classroom that this is not what I am best at. I don't enjoy it. I am grateful when 12:30 arrives and I can come home from work.
Days passed. More days passed. And still more days passed. As we got into June and the normal school year ended, I concluded that I had not been assigned a job so I should plan for other work to sustain me through the summer. Then late on a Friday before summer session was to start (on Monday), I received an email assigning me to an elementary school, and naming the teacher who would be in charge of the classroom. Never mind that classes started several days later. Never mind that I might well have made other plans. Never mind that I wasn't told anything about the class I would be assisting in. At least it was a job ! And I assumed I would still be classified as an "Intervention Specialist," teaching and tutoring kids one-on-one according to their educational needs.
I reported at the assigned time and date, found the classroom, and met the teacher, a pleasant fellow who himself, he told me, had only learned a week earlier that he, too, had a summer assignment. And our students began arriving. There were about 8 of them, with 5 adults in the classroom. I was assigned to be the one-on-one for a young man I will call Jack. Jack is about ten, and as events unfolded I learned that he is not only seriously autistic, but that he also has a serious case of attention deficit disorder.
The teacher told me a few days later that he was absolutely surprised at the type of students in the class. They all had serious autism. Most other than Jack could pay attention to something for a while. Jack, however, could not focus on anything for more than 15 - 30 seconds. One could get him to sit down, but only for about ten seconds. Then he would stand up and start walking rapidly all around the classroom, usually in the same pattern, usually investigating the same places he had previously investigated. If one were lucky, it might be possible to get Jack to repeat a word. But normally he did not speak. He lacked fine motor skills and was unable to draw a straight line between two points.
I am used to dealing with students who can talk, discuss, question, and express their thoughts. The only thoughts Jack seemed able to express was an interest in a few of the foods his mother packed for him for lunch, and whether or not he had to go to the bathroom. (Thankfully when he needs to go the the bathroom he volunteers this.)
Jack takes medication to slow him down a bit, but he is still uncontrollably restless. And he paces more rapidly than most people could, To burn off energy, twice during the four hours I am assigned to watch over him, I am instructed to take him out to the playground. This is a vast, paved area with a few basketball baskets. It is surrounded by a high chain link fence. And Jack paces from one end to the other end perhaps 200 feet away, then turns around and paces back. Over and over and over.
There seems to be nothing cognitive that I can teach him. The teacher in charge suggested a series of blocks and plastic shapes that can be arranged inside similarly-shaped cutouts. Jack has that mastered and fits eight shapes into their appropriate places with no hesitation. There are plastic cubes that fit into each other and form long chains. Jack will fit one or two of these together easily. Then he jumps up from his chair and is off again pacing around the classroom. He knows how to count to ten, but is uninterested in doing so. He also cannot concentrate on stories. Two sentences into a story and he is off pacing again. My job at that point is to make sure he doesn't fool around with electrical plugs or the fire alarm and fire hose in the room. He will dit down when directed -- but only for about five or ten seconds.
I like Jack. I think he is a sweet kid. He comes over every so often and hugs me and the other adults in the room. He is friendly, not hostile. But I find myself reflecting most of the time every single day I work in this classroom that this is not what I am best at. I don't enjoy it. I am grateful when 12:30 arrives and I can come home from work.
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