by Donna Swagerty Shreve
As a new teacher living in a small town in Connecticut, I had already survived two years of teaching when my principal approached with me with a proposition. Our school had been chosen for a special class the district termed “coaching class”. I was up for anything, but let me translate what “coaching class” was. All 24 students had been flunked, two of them twice. They were listed as fourth graders but none of them were. Bused from three different schools in the district, they heard the taunts as soon as they got on the bus. The cards were stacked against me.
I had enough sense to refuse the fourth grade textbooks that the students had gone through with failing results. I had to mix it up and try something different. My whole year I tried to stay ahead of them with their various needs. I truly thought that if I had a three seconds head start, I might have a chance. Teachers shared their horror stories before the first day of school so I knew I had a big challenge.
The first day of school started rather calmly in the morning as we went over school rules and classroom procedures. Back in 1970, teachers still had lunch duty and I had the bad luck of cafeteria duty the first week. The cafeteria, located in the basement of our school, was packed with half of the 15 classes in our school. One of my students, Michelle, decided to make a big first impression. I watched her look around the crowded room and then take a deep breath before she screamed at the top of her lungs the “F” word. With a big smile on her face, she waited for the reactions. I knew what reaction she expected so I did something different. I whispered in her ear that she really needed to be considerate of others and not yell until she got outside for recess. Also I thought she knew much better words to use in the future. She was stunned. What kind of a strange teacher was I?
I made a punching bag made out a pillowcase. Tied to the top of the stair railing to the nurse’s room, it was located just outside my classroom. With a large black marker I wrote on it, “Hit me instead”. It was well used. Located on the second floor, the whole bank of windows looked out on to the large playground. In some cases students could come to me and ask if they could run to the outside fence to help calm down. I could keep an eye on them to make sure they actually did run to the end of the playground and back. Highly intelligent Steve tested gifted but he exhibited an abundance of hyper behavior with a very short attention span. His runs became a wonderful coping tool. Already smoking and trying to get into other trouble was not difficult for him. I would like to think I gave him confidence that he did have a good brain and there were many other choices out there in his future.
None of my students had been tested for any learning problems. They had to be referred by a classroom teacher and their parent. Our school psychological tester was a joke at best but fortunately for all of us, an actual brain surgeon lived in the town and would take referrals that had to be followed up by the psychologist. After I systematically went to each parent and convinced enough of them to have their child tested by the neurologist, the school decided to give me help. Starting as an aide, Elaine had more teaching experience than I did. We became a team and were of similar mind. The district also sent me to a special conference in Boston for learning disabilities. I was now armed with so much information and various techniques to try. Our classroom became quite a learning lab.
I started doing some testing of my own. I tested each student to check for whether they were consistently being dominant in the use of their right or left eyes, ears, feet and arms. It was a simple test actually but it could pin point where a learning problem lay. Carlin had thick glasses and talked in a monotone. I found out he could not discern any difference with notes on a xylophone. I could not expect Carlin to learn things with his ears, such as the difference between long and short vowels. Visual learning was better but his eyesight was not great. His glasses were the classic “coke bottle” type. Carlin took in his world through his hands but how often do we get to learn with our hands? I had to find some ways. Carlin became a stand out when I got a good friend to make birdhouse kits that the students nailed together before they painted them. Carlin’s birdhouse resulted in a beautifully made final product.
I noticed as I tried to get Paul’s attention, sometimes he was seemingly in another world. His eyes would move rapidly back and forth. With a little research I guessed it could be epilepsy. I mentioned this to his mother and fortunately she took him in to a doctor and he confirmed that he was having petit mal seizures. It explained so many behaviors that she and I had noticed. I received a Christmas card from her for at least ten years after.
Learning became most successful when done in small groups with a limited time so they could rotate every few minutes. Most of their attention spans could not allow for a lengthy lesson. Alphabetizing lists were done with individual cards instead of writing them down. All of sudden, alphabetizing became a game and they succeeded where before it had seemed like a horrible task. One student did his best work when he was under his desk. That gave me a clue to provide an isolation booth that was made out of a refrigerator box with a desk and lamp. It received so much use that there had to be a sign up for its use. I had decorated the room with so many bulletin boards it served as a major distraction to some. The isolation booth gave them relief.
Another student reacted with frustration when I asked him to read a short passage. He remarked that if the words stayed still he might have a chance. I had learned about a small reading “T.V. screen” tool. The screen was a 3 by 5 card that had a small window cut along its middle. Now the student only saw two lines at a time, and without the interference of the whole page of text, reading was easier.
Learning disabilities had wounded the students in a variety of ways. Eddie had numerous difficulties that disguised any learning problems. I was getting desperate with Eddie as he did so many things to be disgusting. Eddie was quite successful in getting negative attention from most everyone. I had him stay after school for a few minutes each day where we wrote down in a journal something positive about that day. It was a daily challenge but it finally paid off after two weeks. I had to convince Eddie he was able to do pleasant things beside his usual behavior. One day Eddie’s father came staggering into the room and reeking of booze. He was swearing and was quite upset as he had had to wait outside for Eddie longer than he thought was acceptable. I watched Eddie tense up and braced himself. I went into actress mode and said, “Oh, I am so glad you are here. We have been keeping track of Eddie’s good deeds and we have quite a list. I am sorry we took longer than usual but Eddie is a special guy.” The man was stunned. This was not what he was expecting or counting on. I hurried them out as soon as I could so I wouldn’t hold them up any longer. I felt like I had dodged a potential ugly encounter but it certainly gave me more insight into Eddie’s behavior. I am afraid Eddie didn’t have the usual learning disability. I had to use my father’s definition.
During a conversation with my father, I had explained all of the possibilities for why a student had problems learning in the traditional way. As an educator, my father had many experiences in education. He listened very patiently and then said I had left out one. Confused I inquired what I had left out. He replied, “Some are just plain stupid.” Poor Eddie. But with hindsight, maybe Eddie was so emotionally damaged that he was unable to concentrate on learning anything acceptable in school.
I had several pets in the classroom to round out the students’ education. Gerbils were allowed in Connecticut and they were sturdy enough to endure being picked up and gentle enough not to bite. I also had a terrarium with three small turtles. They hibernated during the winter under a big rock. I saw that the students were very curious why the turtles were gone. I used that teachable moment to explain about hibernating and even lifted up the rock so they could all see the turtles. I thought that would take care of it. Wrong. Someone had to go back and look again and was not gentle replacing the rock. No more turtles.
As part of a colonial unit, I thought we would try planting a garden so we could see the results before school was out. I borrowed and begged and got enough shovels and rakes for the digging and planting to begin. I got the harebrained idea to try two different fertilizers in our garden. A string was positioned down the middle of the garden so we could see if plants liked dried manure or plant chemicals better. We had notebooks and wrote down the steps to making a garden and what we expected to see in a few months. Suddenly, several students were screaming and running wildly in all directions. It seems Michelle had been very busy. She had helped herself to the dried manure and made a good size pile of manure balls with the help of the hose. When she thought she had a good supply, she started throwing them and was quite accurate with her aim. I guess I should be grateful she didn’t aim for me.
I grabbed her under her armpits with her filthy hands dangling. I am not sure if her feet even touched the ground before we arrived in the school office. Furious and frustrated, I marched in to the office with Michelle and very dramatically flung her into an empty chair. I had the full attention of the principal and secretary. I was huffing and got out, “I don’t want to see this person again today. She has been out there throwing sh. . . . manure balls and I need to go back out there and help with the clean up.” The principal was holding his nose desperately because he wanted so much to laugh. I exited and helped various students clean up so they could go home without too much fuss on the bus.
It certainly became a year where I learned so much about teaching. I survived and became a better teacher for it. The skills I learned that year I used the rest of my career. Fortunately I was so young and didn’t know better when I agreed to my new assignment. What is sad is that the district rethought the concept of “coaching class” and dissolved it for the next school year. Special education had not quite arrived in Connecticut. I then went on to teach a “normal” classroom that would always have a few students who needed “coaching” but were now spread out throughout the district.
1989 words
8/28/2020
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