My child is Epic

So, I had kiddo's parent teacher conference last night. Man, those things are short now! Or maybe I just think they are. Since he's in special education, it's not just me and a teacher. It's me, his general ed class teacher, the special ed teacher, 2 para-educators, a speech therapist, and a behavioralist. Crowded room! But we still only get a half an hour to discuss everything, form his math progress (which is a llittle behind, but that was expected), reading progress (which the teachers couldn't stop gushing over how awesome he is), writing progress (moving at a fast clip as well), and the clincher...behavioral progress. It's a slow road there. They find it next to impossible at times to get him to focus, and have resorted to a rather interesting method of scripting to get him to fall in line. They give him little cards that say step by step what he's supposed to be doing, like "Circle time: I will sit on the floor. I will put my hands in my lap. I will listen to the book quietly. I will not get up and run around. I will wait til the end of the story to speak. I will raise my hand before I speak". Apparently this is working pretty well for them, especially considering he can read the entire card on his own. His special ed teacher said she will see him staring at the cards and repeating the instructions back to himself, over and over. He really does want to behave. He just has an incredibly hard time focusing. The teachers said it's like his mind is going a mile a second and he's struggling to wrangle it under control. Ha! I can definitely say I know where he gets it. Some people have said talking to me is liking trying to talk to a hyperactive kitten who keeps finding string.
So, after we get over the initial progress stuff, the special ed teacher takes me into the other room to BS. As we walk in, she asks me if I knew about the "wet paper towel story". I cautiously said no, but realized wuickly I was in for a doozy when three other teachers came in giggling "are you telling the paper towel story? I loved that!!!" Dear god, my child is legendary...

THE WET PAPER TOWEL INCIDENT

Anthony went to the bathroom by himself, and was taking an unusually long time. The para-ed was getting a little worried, when all the sudden kiddo ran into the room, grabbed her hand, and said "Ms. Hanthorn, do you want to see something wonderful???"
She followed him into the bathroom, where he proceeded to proudly show her his discovery that if you fling a wet paper towel onto the wall, it will stick. This discovery led him to create a massive tactile mural across the entire bathroom wall. Trees and smiley faces. With mushy wet paper towels. She said she felt awful trying to admonish him for it, because he was just so damn PROUD of this accomplishment.
So, a few days later, when kiddo requested to use the bathroom, they decided to head off the potential for disaster by sending him with another student. This student was very "prim and proper, and a model of reserved behavior", so they were sure he'd keep kiddo in line. Ha!
As time passed, the teacher got worried, so decided to go see what was going on. As she pushed open the door, the first thing she sees is this other student standing in the middle of the bathroom with a look of abject horror across his little face. On the other side of the bathroom is kiddo, proudly creating another masterpiece. He looked up and saw the teacher, and gleefully cried, "Ms. Young, watch THIS!" thwaaaaaaaack. Apparently he thought she'd be just as fascinated as he was. At this point, Ms. Young pointed out is is very hard to admonish a child for misbehaving when they are so dang proud of their accomplishment (also, when you are trying not to laugh so hard you are tearing up).
A few days later, kiddo was allowed to go to the bathroom on his own, being excused from the gen ed class. Now, because of kiddo, there is a little blue line taped onto the floor from the gen ed room (and the specialist room), going directly to the bathroom. He tends to get easily sidetracked, so they put the little track there for him to follow. Since the specialist room is between the gen ed and bathroom, Ms. Young can look up and see kiddo trucking by on his little line. Often times she'll hear him repeating his "going to the bathroom correctly" script to himself as he shuffles. This is the hilarity she witnessed:
Step step step. pause in front of specialist room.
"do we stop and go in room 3? Nooooo..." little wag of the finger.
step step step. pause at hallway intersection.
"do we go running down the other hall? Nooooo...." little wag of the finger.
step step step. pause in front of bathroom door.
"do we throw wet paper towels at the bathroom wall? no no no no no!" in a little sing songy voice, before a little jump, and pushed open the bathroom door.
At this point, she, and two other teachers who witnessed his little jaunt, fell over laughing in tears.

Ups and Downs, and the Little Bus

I'd never been on the inside of the "short bus", so it was interesting. That is a LOT of seatbelts! As kiddo's companions got on, I had the realization that not all the children who ride these buses would be classified as special needs. Now, kiddo could never be left on his own at a bus stop, nor dropped at one and be expected to make it back on his own. Also, the seatbelts are needed because he has a tendency to get up and wander. He's been on special transit ever since he started kindergarten.
His adorable friend Anika is in a similar state, but perhaps even more so with a much more severe disorder (I've never asked her mom what the diagnosis is, but, well, while painfully sweet and instantly endearing, it is very clear immediately that there's a severe delay). She's probably one of the sweetest little gals you'd ever meet, always ready to run up and greet you with the biggest grin ever and a big "HIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!" I love her to pieces, and since I know her so well, I always try to look out for her whenever I'm with the school children.
There's also his friend Patrick, whose delay seems similar to kiddo's, with a more pronounced speech delay. These are all the types of kids I would expect on special transit, as well as physical disabilities (of which there are none at kiddo's school, as far as I know). So I guess I was a bit bewildered when I saw approximately four cihldren on his bus with no apparent signs of disability, physical or otherwise. Granted, I'm not a trained therapist, so it's hard to say if there wasn't anything just not readily noticeable. But other than being awfully wound up, these kids seemed fine. In fact, the eldest girl on there, a sweet looking mixed girl, spoke with an articulation I would've expected from a much older child. A child with a european accent seemed to be attempting to instigate a conversation with her, and a younger black girl with an adorable little poof of a pigtail on top of her head that sat in front of me and kiddo. She turned around a few times to brightly smile and say hi to us, and I found her to be charming. Then there was the boy who the driver demanded sit in the very front, and I could quickly see why.
This little...tyrant was loud and quite obnoxious. And I'm not just talking in the typical kid with too much energy way, I'm talking unruley, trying to pick fights with the other kids verbally, and shouting at his topmost volume. Behavioral issues was a minor description. The poor bus driver had to pull over twice to et him to shut up, and seemed to be at his wits end trying to get this kid to just chill out.
Now, obviously I wouldn't be freaking out over a kid who was mouthing off. Hey, it's grade school. It happens, right? But what shocked me was the crap coming out of this kid's mouth. I'm not talking about a few curses here and there.
I'm talking about racial slurs. The poor girl in front of me was beside herself trying to brush it off, I felt so bad for her. The elder one was smart and kept ignoring his incitements. Then finally, he screeched "My dad told me never to talk to black people!!!"
I calmly looked at Anthony and said very loudly, "That is very wrong thinking. I never EVER want you to repeat whatever that boy says". He looked sweetly up at me, oblivious as to what transpired. Thankfully Anika seemed to be in her own little world at the time, and I don't believe Patrick was on the bus when it was uttered. See, those three kids are at a point where they don't yet know about racial differences, or lack thereof. As far as kiddo's concerned, everybody's the same, some might just be a little more tan. I like it that way. I was raised that way, too.
Now, the driver did nothing, and I realized that he probably didn't hear it. The engine noise is pretty concentrated around the front of the bus. I didn't say anything as we got off, I was still pondering the entire event. I thought of what to say to an authority there, who I would be able to talk to, and what, if anything, they could do.
I could tell a teacher, but if that horrible thinking is comng from Daddy, well, it's not like a call home can realy do a lot of good, right? It's sad when you think of how ignorance and hate propagate so quickly through a child's upbringing. Even if they tried to discipline the child for it, if Dad's a racist, then he'd probably protest any backlash.
*sigh* The only thing I can do is indeed write a letter, and express my deep concern about the other children being exposed to this kind of behavior. I understand why kiddo, An, and Patrick ride that bus, but all the more reason to want to protect them from a child like this. I wrote to the teacher, and intend to follow through with an identical complaint to the principal. Luckily I knew the offending child's name.
I probably never would've even known about any of this had I not ridden the bus with him that afternoon. Anthony doesn't know well enough to tell me about something like this, because he wouldn't understand any of it. And since it seems the driver never heard it (or at worse, chose to ignore it), nothing would've been done to acknowledge it.
Well, here's hoping some good can come out of this. I'm still mortified, I guess I had hoped that being close enough to a metro area, we wouldn't face rampant racism. But at least I was there to hear it, and hopefully help tamp it down.

The Ups and Downs of Volunteering at school

So, last week during the curriculum night at kiddo's school, they passed around a volunteer sheet for the school's annual walkathon. Since I'm technically a stay at home mommy right now, I jumped at the chance! I mean, how fun to watch all those little guys walkin' their tails off to support their school?
Soooooo...I hopped on the bus down there, attempting to be as timely as possible. I realized quickly that the transfer I had would expire before I got done, and prayed that kiddo's bus driver would allow me to hitch a ride back with the kids. They all know me from his drop off anyway, so it's not like I was a perfect stranger. As I walk up to the volunteer sign in, the gal marking off names seems quite relieved. "Your a first grade mom, so you'll be marking off the first grader lap cards. The SPE teacher was glad you came!" I know a couple of kiddo's classmates from all my time popping in there, so I was definitely excited to see all those glowing faces.
As I walk over to my purple (yay!) station across the feild, I realize I am the only parent there. All the other grade tables have 3 or 4 parents...where were my companions? Hmmm...maybe because it's first grade the parents aren't used to needing to help out at school? Ah well, here's hoping all the coffee I downed will give me the energy to keep up with them!
As I sit there and ponder my solitude and look across the feild, I also realize I am "not dressed appropriately" in comparison to the rest of the parents (who several of them decided to shoot me some oh-so-lovely looks from nearby stations). According to my observation, a mommy is supposed to be wearing yoga pants, a hideous parka, and track shoes. I am wearing a pink sweatshirt with skulls on it, rolled jeans, and a big bulky set of black boots. hmmm. Apparently the large hot pink Nightmare Before Christmas tote bag is getting a few glares, too. Greaaaat.
Finally another parent wanders over to my station, trailed by one of the office workers that appears quite frantic. I quickly discover the office worker is the only person who speaks spanish, and quickly explains the task at hand to my new companion. I stammer a greeting in my bastardization of this poor woman's language, and realize this now makes the day infinitely more interesting. Luckily she speaks about as much english as I do spanish, so we stumbled through small talk while waiting for the kids to get out on the field. While we're talking, another staffer walks up. She had one of those atrocious boxy pink sweaters (the kind Martha Stewart wears), and starts lamenting that had she known she'd be with us, she would've tried to match her clothes to the station. Really, lady? I just kind of laughed, and made introductions.
"oh, I am a sub teacher for the district, and I actually did the spanish class all day today!" she crowed.
My partner looked very relieved, and asked her which grades she taught (in spanish). Sadly she was greated by a blank look, because apparently Super Sub here didn't actually speak a lick of spanish. I am now thoroughly impressed with the district's idea of adequate substitutes.
As the kids are released, I discover that the little balls of energy that they be are interpreting "walkathon" as "run like hell for the next hour and a half", and get to giggle my head off as I watch the little buggers go tearing around the track. Anthony and his classmates all ran up to me and gave me high fives, and I cheered them on. As the first grades completed a lap around the track, they were supposed to come up to our station and get heir card marked. They were so cute! One little gal had me laughing so much. About a full size smaller than her peers, this precious little asian girl was giving her classmates a run for their money. Apparently she decided to train for a 5k, because as the others settled down to a walk by the third lap, she ran through 15. I think she had the most in her class, and would do this little hop to a halt in front of me every time to get her card marked. She must have been exhausted, but the grin on her face when she finished was priceless, right down to the two missing teeth. I swear to god I almost took her home.
The SPE teacher certainly had her hands full, trying to herd the little group around the track. My favourite little person, Anika, was trailing a lot, but since she knew who I was she'd eagerly come scampering over with her huge grin, screaming "mark meeeeeee!" Kids like her make life amazing, ya know??
Meanwhile, Super Sub and some other horrid little blond gal began cackling over teacher life, and scooting up away from myself and my spanish pal. Conveniently we were so distracted by all the kids, we were occupied enough not to worry about it, although it was mildly irritating that they were waving the kids away from us to sign off the cards. Apparently we were inferior box-crosser-outers.
As the time came to a close, Super sub and Blondie snatched up all the cards and started a weird form of organizing. When I asked what they were doing, they explained that they were alphabetizing them for the next round (parents were invited to come down and walk with their children's cards in the evening). As I watched, I discovered that they had invented a whole new way of arranging the alphabet, half from right to left, and a pile that was up and down. Sheesh, no wonder our kids are suffering in school.
I gave up, wished my spanish pal well, and wandered off to kiddo's bus. Now, there is a part two to this story, and it's one hell of a part two. But for now I shall sum up my lovely experience thusly:
First graders are awesome.
Grade schoolers in general have far more energy than we adults we could ever imagine.
Suburban parents are awful dressers.
When I become a teacher, no matter how temporarily, I will stick out like a sore thumb in their bad sweater wearing, obsessively controlling, awfully catty ranks.
Our district has some craptastic sub teachers.
Teachers like my son's SPE and general class ones make it ok, because they are awesome.

Death of Innocence

So, I went to my son's curriculum night at school last night, where we parents get to hear from the teachers their overall plan for the school year. Note, I hate these types of events, because Edmonds is very yuppified, and my weird little self tends to stick out in the sea of Eddie Bauer clones like a bright red..er, thumb?
Everything from science kits to vocabulary studies were discussed. I dutifully wrote down all of the important info, since I will of course be researching all of the lesson plans at home. They've changed a lot of this stuff since I was a kid, but it seems like the ways they are teaching are definitely more improved, and designed to tap into all the alternate ways the kids learn. I filled out a parent volunteer pack, too, which apparently requires all parents going into classrooms to have a complete bacground check. Scary, but necessary.
Since my son is in special ed, I got to actually go to two different sessions, one with his general classroom (approximately 25 children in first grade), and one for the special ed group (12 kids total, ranging from 1st through 3rd grade). Since the second session was smaller and less formal, we got to ask about more of the extra curricular activites offered for our students. Ya know, fundraisers, feild trips, that sort of thing. I asked about donating books to the library, since I was hoping to secretly insert a few about alternative families.
Towards the end of the session, I asked, "So, what all do the kids get to do for Halloween? Did you need any donated mini pumpkins for decorating or anything?" .....dead silence in the room. The horrified looks on the other parents' and the teachers' faces made me shrink in my seat. You'd think I had just asked about sacraficing baby chickens in the lunch room.
"We are NOT allowed to acknowledge that holiday in any such fashion whatsoEVER!!" was the teacher's eventual stammered response. All the other parents nodded in unison. Apparently I was the last person to know about this.
Needless to say, I was quite incredidulous. I started listing off what I thought were seemingly innocuous activities...and then was firmly told the rules of the new regime.
I was then told if my son was dressed up, he would be sent HOME. There would be no trick or treating, no little ghost paper maches, no "spooky stories" read. Nothin. In the teacher's own words, "Halloween has been banned from public schools for a few years now". I am completely, utterly appalled. Halloween is a cultural afront? To WHO?!
Halloween time for the kiddies at school was friggin awesome when I was a kid. All our classmates would dress up, and there were pictures galore. One of the best parts was seeing what your friends whipped up in the ol' costume closet. after giggling over who had the best He-man costume, we'd read Casper-like stories, ya know, innocent enough not to scare the pants off a 7 year old, but still with a friendly "skeleton", or a vampire that was afraid of the dark. Hello, anyone remember Bunnicula?! Best Halloween story EVER. And of course, there were the decorated cookies, craft paper haunted houses, and mini pumkins with glitter. I even remember my elementary school would have a Halloween festival that night with all the teachers dressed up and little games the kids could play. It was a great way for the younger kids to have some innocent halloween fun in a safe environment, obligatory bobbing for apples included.
Now, granted, I will probably now just be doing all of this at home with kiddo. I always like to let him paint a small pumpkin, and I guess this year I'll have to get some sugar cookie dough together for him to get his decoratin' groove on. But now he'll miss what I considered to be one of the best parts, which is sharing the holiday with his peers. Halloween is fun, but it's a memory-making moment when it's surrounded by 12 other little ghosts and goblins giggling over a jackolantern cookie with M&Ms for eyes. It's the one holiday that isn't wrapped in religious sentiment or serious moral undertone. Yes, I know it is technically a pagan celebration of the harvest, and butts up next to the hispanic Dia De Los Muertos, but to most every modern individual, it's a day celebrating goofiness and all things "spooky". It's a day to laugh at the things that go bump in the night. It's one of the classic moments of childhood that I thought crossed all cultural lines, at least, when I was young it did.
But now, thanks to lord only knows what stick-up-the-ass group of lameo individuals, this priceless moment of childhood has been robbed from our offspring. People seem to be so DAMN eager to get upset and offended over every little thing, that we allow our children no exploration whatsoever.
Grrrr.....I have half a mind to dress up like a giant pumpkin on the friday preceding the day, stand outside of kiddo's school, and just start pelting kids with smarties.