MIAMI UNIVERSITY The Graduate School
Certificate for Approving the Dissertation
We hereby approve the Dissertation
of
Cleighton Josiah Weiland
Candidate for the Degree
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
______
Dr. Thomas Poetter, Director
______
Dr. Joel Malin, Reader
______
Dr. Denise Taliaferro Baszile, Reader
______
Dr. Amity Noltemeyer, Graduate School Representative
ABSTRACT
OH, THE PLACES YOU WILL GO! AN EXPLORATION OF THE EXPERIENCES OF CLASSROOM TEACHERS EDUCATING A STUDENT IDENTIFIED AS EMOTIONALLY DISTURBED
by
Cleighton, J. Weiland
The purpose of this study was to analyze and reflect on the experiences of five classroom teachers and their experiences teaching a student identified as Emotionally Disturbed. This study was designed to discover the moral, political, and ethical landscape these teachers encountered as they taught a child whose behavior disrupted classroom learning. Interview data were analyzed and coded and then re-imagined through the creation of a novella. Within the novella, a first year teacher’s personal and professional experiences were surfaced as she worked to provide rich educational experiences for her students, grow in the craft of teaching, negotiate the complexities of special education, manage administrative and community power, and teach a student whose behaviors were significantly disruptive to the learning environment. The three major themes highlighted in this study are that: 1) Teachers and other stakeholders who encounter students with significant behaviors in their classroom need time to process and reflect on praxis with colleagues 2) A careful analysis of power and culture reveals the need for developing a critical consciousness on the part of school districts when considering disruptive student behavior, including self-assessment regarding the provision of resources 3) School districts need to develop ethical models of decision making for ED identified students through the process of determining alternative school placement.
OH, THE PLACES YOU WILL GO! AN EXPLORATION OF THE EXPERIENCES OF CLASSROOM TEACHERS EDUCATING A STUDENT IDENTIFIED AS EMOTIONALLY DISTURBED
A DISSERTATION
Presented to the Faculty of
Miami University in partial
fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of
Doctor of Philosophy
Department of Educational Leadership
by
Cleighton J. Weiland
The Graduate School Miami University Oxford, Ohio
2020
Dissertation Director: Dr. Thomas S. Poetter
©
Cleighton Josiah Weiland
2020
TABLE OF CONTENTS
LIST OF TABLES ...... ix
LIST OF FIGURES ...... x
DEDICATION ...... xi
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ...... xii
Chapter 1: Instruction to the Study ...... 1
An Anecdote and Reflection ...... 1
Overview and Context ...... 5
Statement of Problem ...... 7
Research Question and Significance of the Study ...... 10
Key Terminology ...... 10
Chapter 2: Review of the Literature ...... 12
Introduction ...... 12
Emotional Disturbance: What is Emotional Disturbance and how is it identified in
public school settings? ...... 12
Educational Outcomes: What are the educational outcomes for students who are
identified as Emotionally Disturbed? ...... 15
Alternative Schools. What are alternative schools and how effective are they in serving
students with Emotional Disturbance? ...... 17
What are the sociological issues surrounding Emotionally Disturbed Students attending
alternative schools? ...... 20
Chapter 3: Methodology and Methods ...... 25
Introduction ...... 25
vi
Epistemology, Ontology, and Theory ...... 26
Methodological Orientation ...... 29
Part II ...... 34
Methods ...... 34
Genre ...... 34
Sampling and Recruitment ...... 36
Ethics ...... 38
Trustworthiness ...... 40
Limitations ...... 41
Data Analysis ...... 42
Chapter 4: Oh, The Places You Will Go! ...... 52
Introduction ...... 52
August 1st of the Next School Year ...... 61
April 10th: Four Months Earlier ...... 73
March 31st ...... 86
March 17th ...... 95
February 2nd ...... 104
January 15th ...... 110
November 20th ...... 114
October 15th ...... 122
October 1st ...... 128
September 15th and 16th ...... 137
August 15th. First Day of School ...... 149
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The May Before. The Day Before the First Day of School in August ...... 155
Chapter 5: Analysis and Conclusion ...... 160
References ...... 183
Appendix A: School Administrator Consent Form ...... 199
Appendix B: Teacher Participant Consent Form ...... 201
Appendix C: Teacher Interview Questions ...... 203
Appendix D: Teacher Focus Group Questions ...... 205
viii
LIST OF TABLES
Table 1 - Initial Dramaturgical Coding………………………………….....………….…60 Table 2 - Codes…………………….……………………………………………………..62
ix
LIST OF FIGURES
Figure 1 - Unique Code Mapping Categories…………………………………………63
x
DEDICATION
To my wonderful wife, Jennifer, for your love, support, mad parenting skills, and your willingness to allow me to spend many mornings hunkered down in coffee shops reading
and writing the most esoteric stuff.
To my beautiful three girls, who make me laugh, cry, and find joy in your beautiful
chaos.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A project like this does not simply fall together without the support, expertise, assistance, and knowledge of many others. First, this study would never have gotten off the ground without the insights and support from my Dissertation Chair, Dr. Tom Poetter.
When I was lost and alone, Tom came in and breathed new life into this writing journey.
I am profoundly grateful for his enthusiasm, guidance, and oversight, as well as his patience with my awful grammar! Secondly, I would like to thank the professors who spent many hours reading through this work, providing feedback and insights that were invaluable. Thank you Dr. Joel Malin, Dr. Denise Taliaferro Baszile, and Dr. Amity
Noltemeyer.
For the school districts and teachers who participated in this study, I am very grateful for you all. Time is precious for educators, and I am so indebted to the hours you gave to a stranger with a “dangerous” research idea.
Dr. Chad Campbell, you had no obligation to read through my mess of ideas that I called “drafts”. You added a tremendous degree of clarity to my thinking and I can never repay you for all your help, insights, and candid feedback. Our conversations were a game changer and I am glad I can call you my friend.
Christopher Hill, you made an investment in me, enabling me to survive some trying times in my life and eventually attend college. Our lives have led us down different roads, but we’ll always have Red #7s!
Thank you, Dr. Tracy Quattrone, for helping me think through how to navigate interacting with school district gatekeepers.
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Micah Weiland, I am grateful for your astute skills with Microsoft Word and all things computer. Your brotherly support enabled me to slide into home plate with this project.
I would also like to thank my wife, the love of my life. Jennifer has been my constant companion and friend, making me laugh and stay centered through this work.
She has been extraordinarily supportive, keeping the gears of our family whirring as I spent my time reading, writing, and drinking highly caffeinated coffee at McDonald’s and Kidd Coffee. I can’t express how grateful I am for you. I am also thankful for my three precious daughters, Adelaide, Lanie, and Lucy, otherwise known as “the girls”.
They are a lot of work, but they pay out well, filling my life with joy, laughter, and just a bit of senseless fun.
Finally, I want to thank the compassionate Grace in my life, my constant friend, and my lifeline from Nazareth. Everything I long for is found in your love. I owe you all.
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Chapter 1: Instruction to the Study
An Anecdote and Reflection
Sometimes school psychologists get sucked into things they never anticipated. As a school psychologist, I get invited to meetings where things have already gone too far, and the last gasp of traditional intervention is being exhaled. This meeting was that, but more. My presence was symbolic. I was there to help legitimize a process that I wasn’t entirely comfortable with.
The conference room felt stiff, even claustrophobic, and breathing was difficult for me. I sat in a chair facing the door so I could monitor the entrance of the meeting participants. On my left sat the social studies teacher and on my right was a special education teacher. Fluorescent lights beat down on our nervous faces as we made vain attempts to get comfortable in the maroon cloth chairs. Further down the table on my side was our school district’s Special Education Director, and then finally the district attorney. Oddly cheerful, our attorney prepped us for what was to occur, including the happenings that led to our meeting. However, I was already intimately acquainted with the details of the precipitating events, a good thing since the rapid thumping of my heartbeat drowned out most of his overtures.
“John” a sophomore, had come to our high school a year prior after having existed in a partial hospitalization placement since elementary school due to unspecified
“mental health issues.” Long ago, John had been identified for special education services as a student with an Emotional Disturbance (ED). Although considered “odd” or “hard to teach” by his high school teachers, his freshman year resulted in only a few minor disciplinary referrals to administration. This year was different. During the first month
1 of school, he kicked another student in the teeth and had just recently delivered an unprovoked haymaker punch to a friend in study hall because he “didn’t want to go to school anymore.” The parents of the other students were understandably upset and one of them had voiced their anger in an attorney authored letter, which was sent to our district’s superintendent. This was the district initiated Individualized Educational
Program (IEP) meeting to put John out of the district and back to “where he belonged,” that is, some other alternative school. Thus, we would be able to avoid potential lawsuits from the families of the injured students. The fly in the ointment was that John’s parents had also lawyered up. Although I generally did not attend IEP meetings, I was invited to this one as an expert witness and “participant.”
John’s parents entered with their rather chipper attorney who reeked of self- assured confidence. Although this was my first rodeo, it went relatively smoothly as I didn’t need to speak. In fact, the only two people who spoke in the meeting were the attorneys. The meeting proceeded in a pompous merry-go-round of entrances and exits; attorneys and clients entering and exiting to conference, negotiate, or work on the language of the IEP. At one point, our Special Education Director exited with our attorney and our IEP team was left with just the parents and their attorney. Their attorney opened his laptop and proceeded to show us a slide show of his latest white water rafting trip to South America.
At the time of these events, I had been a school psychologist for a little over three years. Nothing in my graduate coursework had prepared me for the circus of attorneys and vacuous ritual that changed John’s IEP meeting from a collaborative and educative process into a legal proceeding. I was grateful when the meeting ended, and the attorneys
2 finally worked out the wording for the IEP. In the days following John’s meeting, I became lost within my unrelenting caseload of student needs and had only minimal time to process what had occurred. However, I couldn’t help but feel haunted by John’s case for years to come.
As I consider John, now almost 12 years later, and other cases like John’s that I have encountered, questions continue to plague me. For example, how could our federally constructed special education processes have led to such a dark outcome for
John? That is to say, John was exiled from a public high school and placed in a restrictive alternative high school, divorced from his local community. He never had an opportunity to participate in high school experiences such as school dances, pep rallies and sports, lunchtime conversations, senior skip day, engage with quirky or inspirational teachers, or participate in the countless everyday experiences that make up high school life. Rather, John was removed to a restrictive alternative setting where his social interactions were with students that also faced numerous social, emotional, and behavioral challenges.
The freedoms that are typically afforded to high school students were abridged for
John, given his restrictive placement. Although the IEP meeting was a pivotal decision for John’s life, there was also the initial placement in a partial hospitalization program during his elementary and middle school years that seemed problematic for him. Perhaps this initial placement robbed John from an opportunity to develop the necessary skills to
“fit into” a typical high school structure and culture. Without experiencing elementary school and the middle grades with his peers, he found the social structures of high school to be too foreign, a poor fit for his past educative experiences and current needs.
3
Relatedly, if John was never suited for traditional public school, would he ever be a fit for traditional life including job training, career, having a family, and participating in other social institutions?
However, given John’s proclivity to violence and physical aggression while in the public high school, this restrictive setting seemed intuitive, necessary, and pragmatic for the staff. After all, I also have to consider the trauma inflicted on the two other students that John had physically assaulted, the legal conflict presented to the school district, and the power leveraged by the other set of parents to arrive at the desired outcome— jettisoning John from the public high school. Additionally, John himself expressed a desire to be removed from this public school setting. Should students have a personal voice in determining their educational placement? Might John have continued to engage in aggressive acts if he had remained in the public school setting? Given these variables, what was the right educational experience for John and the role of the school and community in making this placement determination?
As I consider these difficult questions, I also wonder about our general education teachers and how they experienced these events. How did they process through John’s removal from high school? What were the ongoing conversations that occurred about
John in the teacher lunchroom or even in more formal building and district level meetings? Even earlier on at the elementary school level, how did John’s initial removal from the public school setting unfold beyond what was contained in the special education paperwork? Were there similar uses of power that impacted the decision to remove John from the general education setting at that time? What types of events occurred within the classroom and how did these events impact the learning of other students? To what
4 degree were general education teachers and students impacted by John’s behavior while he was a younger student? How did classroom teachers experience John’s transition and placement into an alternative setting? These are heavy questions that remain salient and provocative for me, as there are other cases just like John’s that have come across my desk over the years.
As I consider these questions, a new set of thoughts press down on me. What would happen if I explored these questions in a way the was evocative and even personal? What would happen if we found a way to write about students like John, but in a way that made his educational life accessible and known? Could stories like John’s be brought out of the conference room and into public discourse as we search for better answers for students with profound emotional and behavioral needs? And what about the teacher and educational staff that worked with John? Could we also uncover their stories, the path they walked as they shepherded John and others like him from his entitled community in the traditional classroom to a more restrictive alternative school setting?
These questions and others like them provide the current context for my study.
Overview and Context
Since 1975, school districts have been legally required to evaluate and identify students who are suspected of having a disability as defined by The Education for All
Handicapped Children Act (EHA), now referred to as The Individuals with Disabilities
Education Improvement Act (IDEA), 2004, 20 U.S.C. § 1401 (3)(A)(i). The law was designed to delineate and expand the rights of students with disabilities who face learning challenges that would otherwise prohibit their participation in public schools. Eligible students are those identified by a team of educators and parent participants as having a
5 disability that adversely affects academic performance and are determined to need special education and possibly related services. These related services are designed to remediate or support various impairments in functioning such as speech or language, fine or gross motor weaknesses, or hearing impairments. During the 2017-2018 school year, the number of students ages 3-21 receiving special education services in the United States was 6.9 million, or about 13% of all public school students (U.S. Department of
Education, 2019). Of those students identified for special education services, approximately 1% were identified as Emotionally Disturbed (ED), a federal category of disability used for students just like John.
ED is generally understood to incorporate the presence of maladaptive behaviors, coupled with an adverse educational impact. Students identified as ED often engage in aggressive behaviors and fail to develop productive relationships with peers and adults
(Becker, Paternite & Evans, 2014; Hoge & Rubinstein-Avila, 2014). As can be expected, students with ED experience tremendous difficulties in domains critical to success in school, and are often cited as having the most limited educational success of any subgroup of students (Kauffman & Landrum, 2013; Wagner et al., 1991; Walker,
Ramsey, & Gresham, 2004).
Despite the outstanding educational needs that ED identified students often exhibit, schools are required to provide students with disabilities an education that is in the Least Restrictive Environment (LRE) as specified in IDEA (2004). According to
IDEA (2004), LRE means students with disabilities should spend time with their general education peers to the maximum extent. This maximum amount of time is determined by the student’s Individualized Education Program (IEP) team. The IEP team is generally
6 comprised of the child’s parents, a general education and a special education teacher, an administrator, and related service staff as needed such as a speech and language pathologists, or physical and occupational therapists. By law, the IEP team is given ultimate authority for developing a plan that supports a student’s learning needs. In some cases, local school districts release themselves of the direct responsibility of the day-to- day education of ED students by placing them in restrictive alternative schools as part of a continuum of educational placements (i.e., general education classroom, self-contained classroom, alternative school), which is then determined by the student’s IEP team to be that student’s LRE. ED identified students are placed in these alternative school settings more often than students of any other disability category (Becker et al., 2011; Landrum,
Katsiyannis, & Archwamety, 2004). In general, alternative schools are perceived to have the resources to meet the emotional, behavioral, and academic needs of students through smaller class sizes, onsite therapists, specific behavior plans, and staff who have more training with managing significant behavior (Foley & Pang, 2006; Lehr & Lange, 2003;
Wilkerson, et al., 2016). However, the effectiveness of alternative schools has long been in question, particularly for students identified as ED (Bradley, Henderson, & Monfore,
2004, Cox, 1999; Martin & Brand, 2006). As such, the political and moral aspects of educational placement serves as a backdrop to this study.
Statement of Problem
Like Delpit (2006) suggested in her book, Other People’s Children: Cultural
Conflict in the Classroom, it is critical that we assess whether our decisions as educators are either helping or impeding students' access to social and institutional power. This question is extremely important in determining LRE, as there may be no more impacting
7 special education decision than placing a student identified as ED in a restrictive alternative school. Various studies have identified the most significant factors school and parent teams use when considering placing a student in a restrictive alternative school, and generally pertain to physical aggression, defiance, and safety for staff (Atkins &
Bartuska, 2010; Frey, 2002, Hoge, Liaupsin, Umbreit, & Ferro, 2014; Becker, et. al.,
2014). However, there are also various other potential contributing factors in the decision to place students in a restrictive alternative school including a teachers’ limited capacity to provide instructional experiences to both ED students and non-disabled students in the same classroom (Becker, et. al., 2014); race and cultural variables
(Sullivan, 2011; Sullivan & Artiles, 2011; Sullivan & Bal, 2013); and the primacy of a homogenous educational experience for the other students (McNulty & Roseboro, 2009.
This desire for a homogenous experience for other student has led some researchers to describe placement in an alternative school as an exclusionary measure taken by school districts (i.e., the “toilet assumption”) “…where society and schools tend to ‘flush out’ problems from the mainstream to remove them from immediate consciousness”
(McNulty & Roseboro, 2009, p. 413).
These past studies have sought to understand the variables considered by teachers and other school staff that necessitate placement for ED identified students within restrictive alternative school settings. However, there is a gap in the literature regarding the internal subjective struggle for educators as they make these weighty placement decisions, particularly when it comes to considering issues of morality, power, and culture. This study seeks to understand how teachers, both rationally and emotionally, process the decision to place ED identified students in a more restrictive alternative
8 setting, particularly when these settings have traditionally offered mixed results in respect to effectiveness. This question is particularly relevant as most educators struggle with creating a coherent ideology that balances their moral principles with the exigencies of everyday “work” constraints (Anderson, 2009). As such, I believe it’s important to accept and understand the conflicting feelings that war within educators, particularly teachers, as they make these placement decisions.
This topic is salient to me due to my activities as a school psychologist in a local public school district. As a school psychologist, I have first-hand experience in the special education processes that are used to identify students for special education services, often writing and organizing the assessment data used within school-based evaluations. Writing educational reports for students is not a clinical or impersonal experience for me, as I can remember the faces and names of each child that I have identified for the ED category. Each situation was always fused with emotions of frustration, hopelessness, exhaustion, and sometimes anger for parents, teachers, and school administrators alike. The process of ED identification is messy and uneven. And at times, I am periodically required to participate in the decision making process for placing students in alternative school settings, a process which I perceive to be emotionally impossible for parents and teachers. So, this work is immensely personal. In navigating these experiences, I often experience cognitive dissonance in my attempt to balance scholarship, theory, training, and expectations for parent and school stakeholders alike. This study provides a footpath to explore the inner life worlds of my colleagues as they also process these monumental decisions, building stronger ties between scholarship, theory, and practice as we work to educate some of our most fragile students.
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Research Question and Significance of the Study
The purpose of this narrative inquiry is to explore the values, beliefs, and experiences of teachers who participate in the decision-making process of placing students into restrictive educational settings. As such, the research question is as follows:
What do teachers’ narratives, rearticulated through a fictionalized retelling,
teach us about the sociocultural, political, and moral forces involved in placing
students with emotional disturbance within restrictive alternative school settings?
In order to answer this question, I have sought to explore teachers’ actions in context, seeking further clarification of their internal decision-making processes, and engaging teachers in a manner that elicits honest perceptions, opinions, beliefs, and attitudes. By shining a light on teachers’ internal lifeworlds, rationales, and inner monologues via narrative, I have attempted to contextualize and nuance the issues of power that drive educators to make placement decisions for students identified as ED. Perhaps, through the identification of the particular, these issues can then be brought forward into open dialogue to create a more just and democratic decision-making process for IEP teams as they determine student placement and LRE.
Key Terminology
Alternative Schools: Although there have been various types of alternative schools throughout history (Raywid, 1994), I use two of the three types specified by Kim (2008), including the “warehouse” and “school/prison continuum” conceptualizations. These schools are generally considered a last-ditch educational setting for students whose behavior is considered disruptive, deviant, and dysfunctional (Kim, 2008; Franklin,
10
Kelly, & Szlyk, 2016). Kim (2008) also specifies “ideal haven” as another type of alternative school, but I do not focus on this type due to both its diminished prevalence in the US school system and limited relevance for students identified as ED today.
Emotional Disturbance: The term emotional disturbance is often used in research to describe a general set of mental health disorders for children. However, throughout this work, I use the term “emotional disturbance” to reference students identified for special education services via a federal category of disability.
Morality: The scholarship surrounding morality is deeply philosophical and complex.
For this study, I use both deontological and consequentialist ethics. Deontological ethics are chiefly concerned with the rightness or wrongness of a particular action, whereas consequentialist ethics are concerned with the outcomes produced by moral actors
(Kovacheff, Schwartz, Inbar, & Feinberg, 2018). These concepts are discussed primarily in Chapter 5, although the reader should be aware of these concepts as they consider the results of this study.
Power/Political: Finally, I use the terms “political” and “power” interchangeably. I draw on Foucault’s definition of power as, “…the deployment of force and the establishment of truth…” (1977, p. 184). This truth is validated by a majority within a community.
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Chapter 2: Review of the Literature
Introduction
This literature review focuses on four aspects to provide sufficient background for this study. These aspects include: defining ED; a brief overview of the outcomes associated with students who are identified as ED; a short sketch to the effectiveness of alternative schools; and finally a summary examination of the sociological processes and outcomes associated with placing students in an alternative school setting. These elements are presented as a series of questions and answers to organize the work in an accessible manner.
Emotional Disturbance: What is Emotional Disturbance and how is it identified in public school settings?
The literature indicates that the definition of ED is an entrenched construct which is also contested ground within the scholarship. Regarding ED, Algozzine (2017) notes,
“In special education, a definition creates a condition and identification practices bring it to life” (p. 136). Algozzine (2017) furthers his argument by noting that ED exists in the
“eye of the beholder,” meaning that disability determinations have historically been arbitrary, subjective, and constructed. As noted by Hanchon and Allen (2018), ED identification processes and determinations are based on “vague, suspect criteria that lack sufficient clarity for their intended purpose” (p. 177). Although special education eligibility determinations are thought to be objective and rigorous, they are built around assumptions springing from a medical model that excludes other forms of knowing (Gill,
1998). The medical model has historically viewed disability as a "tangible flaw located within an individual's physical or mental constitution" (Gill, 1998, p. 1), foregrounding
12 biological inferiority and disease, rather than acknowledging the social ideologies, landscapes, and politics that are embedded in disability identification (Triano, 2000). As such, there is no consensus in scholarship on the applied meaning of ED or how best to determine eligibility for special education services for students with significant emotional and behavioral needs (Merrell & Walker, 2004; Sullivan & Sadeh, 2014).
Kerr and Danforth (1995) provide us with a critical analysis and discussion of student identity and ED categorization. They note that the term disability itself is a socially constructed metaphor, created through “methodological machinations” (p. 142).
Kerr and Danforth (1995) purport that disability labeling occurs as a means of applying a textual or social representation to society at large, which in turn colors how an individual or student is treated. Students’ identities are altered to fit into a broad definition that obscures individual histories or futures. This occurs without student feedback and consent as students are provided with no avenue to participate in their own labeling within the special education identification process. This practice of exclusion is indicative of the imbalanced power structures and political imperialism inherent in special education law. Kerr and Danforth (1995) conclude that any degree of protestation on the part of a student with ED in their special education labeling is discarded as it’s considered a part of their disability as opposed to their efforts to play a role in constructing their lives.
Similarly, Elkind (1998) offers some explicit criticism towards the concept of ED categorization in general. He notes that disability categories such as ED are socially constructed through special education practices, definitions, and law. The identity and social power of ED identified students is siphoned off by the act of disability making
13 which is inherent within the special education eligibility process. That is to say, the life experiences of these students can be swallowed up within the disability category itself.
Elkind (1998) suggests past histories, personalities, cultures, interests, and strengths of students within this category are subject to the ideological stories told by the culturally elite. As such, the ED category exists as part of a greater project to differentiate students into binaries of emotional function and dysfunction.
Despite various problems in labeling students as ED, a federal definition continues to be enforced in the public school setting. The prevailing definition is based on the conceptual work of Eli Bower, a teacher and counselor of emotionally disturbed children in New York during the 1950s (Merrell & Walker, 2004). In his experience with at-risk students, Bower offered a definition of ED that was later adapted and included within special education law. The following federal definition of ED has remained mostly unchanged since its inception, although it was first created over 60 years ago:
(i) Emotional disturbance means a condition exhibiting one or more of the
following characteristics over a long period of time and to a marked degree that
adversely affects a child's educational performance:
(A) An inability to learn that cannot be explained by intellectual, sensory, or
health factors.
(B) An inability to build or maintain satisfactory interpersonal relationships with
peers and teachers.
(C) Inappropriate types of behavior or feelings under normal circumstances.
(D) A general pervasive mood of unhappiness or depression.
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(E) A tendency to develop physical symptoms or fears associated with personal or
school problems.
(ii) Emotional disturbance includes schizophrenia. The term does not apply to
children who are socially maladjusted, unless it is determined that they have an
emotional disturbance, (IDEA, 2004)
The list of ED characteristics is an example of what Marx had in mind when he claimed that “…the concrete concept is concrete because it is a synthesis of many definitions”
(Marx & Engels, 1948, p. 141Make). In other words, the intersection of the concepts created from Bower’s initial definition produces numerous particulars about ED, but these descriptions are simply a reification of arbitrary concepts developed in a particular time and space. Although there have been some efforts to overhaul the definition of ED
(Coutinho, Conroy, Forness, & Kavale, 2000; Forness & Knitzer, 1992), this definition has continued to remain in effect at the federal and state level.
Educational Outcomes: What are the educational outcomes for students who are identified as Emotionally Disturbed?
Notwithstanding the high number of mental health disorders in the United States
(Polanczyk, Salum, Sugaya, Caye & Rohde, 2015), a relatively low number of students receive special education services under the disability category of ED. As previously noted, for the past 10 years, the occurrence of ED identification has hovered at about 1%, although there are regional differences (National Center for Educational Statistics, 2019).
A possible explanation for this incongruity is the hesitation of educators to place a label on children that has traditionally been recognized as stigmatizing (Mann & Heflinger,
15
2016; McNulty & Roseboro, 2009), in addition to the confusion of definition noted earlier. As a result, special education services are often not accessed until a child’s behavior and/or emotional functioning are profoundly outside societal norms. Algozzine,
Schmid, and Conners (1978) concluded that students are only identified as ED once their behavior becomes unmanageable as determined by school staff.
Despite the vast amount of resources and special education funding, providing positive learning and life outcomes for students identified as ED has been difficult to achieve. Merrell and Walker (2004) note:
Despite inclusion of ED within the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act
(IDEA 1997) and its predecessors, the dedication and efforts of legions of
professionals, and the investment of vast (but still inadequate) resources, students
with ED fare worse than any other class of students with disabilities on many
important outcomes. (p. 899)
Although Merrell and Walker’s (2004) study is over 15 years old, data from the National
Center for Educational Statistics (2019) confirm a dire prognosis of students identified for the ED category. Students within the ED category generally make the least amount of progress across academic, behavioral, and social domains as compared to other students with disabilities (National Center for Educational Statistics, 2019; Lane, Wehby, Little, &
Cooley, 2005). Approximately half of the students with an ED identification graduate on time with regular diplomas and nearly 2 in 5 drop out of school (National Center for
Educational Statistics, 2019). Students identified as ED are three times as likely to be suspended or expelled from school as compared to any other disability category (National
Center for Educational Statistics, 2019). According to Henderson, Klein, Gonzalez, and
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Bradley (2005), students with an ED identification are more likely to be grouped and isolated from other students in the general education setting. Most students identified as
ED are educated within an inclusion or resource room setting, and approximately 13% of students identified in this category are placed in an alternative restrictive school setting
(National Center for Educational Statistics, 2019). In what follows, I will briefly examine alternative schools and student experiences within these settings.
Alternative Schools. What are alternative schools and how effective are they in serving students with Emotional Disturbance?
Since the 1960s, the number of restrictive alternative school settings has increased with the growing number of students who are either pushed-out or drop out of the general education environment (Kim & Taylor, 2008). Although there is no definitive characterization of alternative schools, they generally involve the provision of specialized educational services for students who are often disciplined and/or at-risk for dropping out
(Atkins & Bartuska, 2010; Bradley & Renzulli, 2011; Slaten, Irby, Tate, & Rivera, 2015) and are identified as ED (Lehr, 2004). McGee and Lin (2017) describe alternative schools as a pathway for students who do not meet the norms or goals found within general education environments. Ideally, alternative schools operate under a mulit- dimensional framework which includes adult mentors, parent involvement, positive behavior management practices, a focus on understanding the communicative function of a child’s specific behaviors, reduced class size, social skills instruction, highly quality instruction in academics, and a positive class climate (McGee & Lin, 2017). Quinn and
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Poirer (2006) completed an extensive study of alternative education in the United States and concluded:
… we can posit that students identified as troubled tend to flourish in alternative
learning environments where they believe that their teachers, staff, and
administrators care about and respect them, value their opinion, establish fair
rules that they support, are flexible in trying to solve problems, and take a
nonauthoritarian approach to teaching. (p.iii)
Quinn and Poirer (2006) note that alternative schools must demonstrate the qualities of an effective general education setting such as flexibility, classroom management, teacher training, and administrative leadership, but with an even greater intensity and focus.
Despite the constructive aim of alternative schools, several studies have documented the lack of systematic academic instruction within these settings (Lane, et. al., 2005) due in part to the inadequate level of teacher preparation found within licensure programs (Gable, 2014). As a group, teachers of students with ED are less credentialed than teachers of any other disability category and are almost twice as likely to receive their licensure through alternative certification programs (Bradley, Doolittle, &
Bartolotta, 2008). Teachers working within alternative schools have significantly fewer years of experience and generally learn on the job, relying upon on the job learning and personal philosophies about education (Hoge & Rubinstein-Avila, 2013). Additionally, teachers in these settings are much more likely to experience increased stress and burnout as compared to teachers of other disability categories (Henderson et. al., 2005; Cross &
Billingsley, 1994). As Wisniewski and Gargiulo (1997) note, attrition rates are at "crisis proportions" (p. 336) for teachers of ED identified students. As the number of students
18 identified as ED increases for any given classroom, the degree of depersonalization experienced by the teacher increases proportionately, hindering the ability for teachers to develop the personal relationships with students that are essential for learning (Nichols &
Sosnowsky, 2002).
Given the instructional challenges faced by teachers in alternative schools, it’s not surprising that placement in a more restrictive or structured setting does not improve student outcomes in key indicators such as discipline, academic performance, and truancy
(Novak, 2019). These findings are similar to the observations of Wilkerson, Afacan,
Perzigian, Justin, and Lequia (2016), as they found students attending alternative schools earn fewer credits and have lower overall school attendance. Restrictive alternative settings have also been observed as a breeding ground for iatrogenic effects, meaning that the educational solution creates even greater issues for the outplaced student, especially for students with emerging conduct problems (Powers, Bierman, & Coffman, 2016).
Powers, Bierman, and Coffman (2016) further suggest that restrictive placement is particularly detrimental for high school students and can be associated with increased risk of high-school non-completion and the identification of adolescent conduct disorder.
These mixed results for alternative school settings may partially explain why these programs have been perceived as lacking institutional legitimacy (Foley & Pang, 2006,
Bradley, Henderson, & Monfore, 2004, Cox, 1999; Martin & Brand, 2006, & Tobin and
Sprague, 1999).
Despite these concerning trends, school districts are seemingly left without other recourse in determining the LRE for ED students with the most significant behaviors.
Students placed in these settings exhibit chronic behaviors that prevent learning for
19 themselves or others or are so dangerous that they pose a threat to self, peers, or staff. As such, schools place students in alternative educational settings as a last-ditch effort to address their specific educational needs (Yell & Katsiyannis, 2004). However, like the initial categorization of an ED student, the decision-making process for placing a student in restrictive settings is not well understood (Becker, et. al., 2014), and the removal to a more restrictive settings has often been based on subjective variables (Kauffman &
Landrum, 2013; Hayling, Cook, Gresham, State, Kern, Connor & Gabel, 2008). Other studies have noted that placement determinations tend to be ambiguous and informal, and are heavily reliant upon evaluator judgment and social context (Hoge, et al., 2014; Lane et. al., 2005). Notwithstanding the potentially deleterious effects that exist in outplacement to restrictive alternative schools, IEP teams generally make this determination with the assumption that an alternative setting will meet a student’s emotional and social needs more effectively than the community school setting.
What are the sociological issues surrounding Emotionally Disturbed Students attending alternative schools?
Although the outcome data for students identified for ED are poor in general, there are also critical, sociological issues to consider when placing students in alternative school settings. Of primary importance, alternative schools are predominantly attended by marginalized student groups. As noted by Kim (2009):
Therefore, students in alternative schools disproportionately are those who are
poor, ethnic minorities, who have limited English proficiency, or who are from
lower-or working-class family backgrounds, rendering alternative schools subject
to social, political, and educational inequalities. (p. 79)
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These marginalized students are periodically given an inferior or even harmful educative experience based on power and coercive force within the alternative school setting
(Altschuler, 2008; Bradshaw et. al., 2010; Lehr & Lange, 2003; Nelson, Leone, &
Rutherford, 2004) to both manage and control their behavior. Additionally, many students placed in these settings are aware of the restrictions, structures, and power inequalities that exist as part of their school environment (Kim, 2008; Kennedy, Acosta,
& Soutullo, 2019). As noted below, this awareness can fuel further behavioral infractions, as students seek further autonomy and control of their life and educative experiences.
In the book Whisper Writing, Jones (2004) explored the storied lives of three female students placed in a restrictive, male-dominated alternative school for students identified as ED. Although each case was remarkably different, each female student was tasked with negotiating their identities through nonconformity, accommodation, and active resistance. Through a process of co-authored stories, Jones (2004) discovered that these females were casualties of oppressive educational practices, victimized through their gender and special education status. Their behavior was constantly refueled by a need to protest their individual circumstances. Yet, despite these seemingly deviant behaviors, Jones (2004) concluded that these students were seeking emancipatory outcomes characteristic of all adolescent students, such as success, respect, and autonomy. She concluded her book by stating that, “…the female adolescents in ED classrooms have overtly refused to be silent, speaking their opposition to hegemony or the greater society through their dress, actions, and speech in attempt at agency” (p. 196).
Yet as Jones (2004) would affirm, society has worked hard to turn down the volume of
21 these stigmatized voices. Although the students in Jones’ (2004) book have been out of school for over a decade, they conform to shadows of other students I have worked with as a school psychologist: disenfranchised, misunderstood, stigmatized, and alienated from broader social currents of “normality.”
In an ethnographic study of outplaced students, McNulty and Roseboro (2009) explore how programs and philosophies used within restrictive alternative schools often eclipse a student’s individual characteristics, where the school itself serves as an identifying space. They note that the de facto rules, policies, procedures, and philosophies of the restrictive setting are only deemed necessary for a type of student whose behavior has been collapsed into a category of deviance. The restrictive setting itself affirms an adult constructed identity that includes rule-breaking and a need for high structure and strict consequences. As such, alternative schools can never lead to a
“normal” outcome, a message that is clearly perceived by the student.
The student perceives their placement in an alternative school as a signal that society has levied a judgment on them regarding who they are, including their value and their future. McNulty and Roseboro (2009) state:
…students internalize the problematic nature of the resulting behavior and
become the “inappropriate” behavior. Because teachers only recognize the
behavior, students could not contribute to disciplinary discussions in a way that
altered the disciplinary outcome; thus, students perceive that, because of their
individual identity as “bad” kids, their voices had no credibility and could not
alter the anti-democratic structure of the school. (p. 423)
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The upshot is that placement in an alternative school helps “serve to incubate stigmatized students in a collective with others who share their stigma” (McNulty & Rosesboro,
2009, p. 418) and force students to adopt what Rohleder and Gibson (2006) describe as
“spoiled” (p. 26) or negative social identities. The ED identified student’s actual identity fades into obscurity and the superimposed identity justifies excommunicating the student from their community schools. McNulty and Roseboro (2009) conclude that placement in the alternative school perpetuates student deviancy, further justifying and solidifying a student’s ongoing placement in restrictive alternative schools.
The effects of outplacement on one’s identity are innumerable but provide at least a possible explanation of why almost 50% of students with ED identifications have experienced incarceration in the juvenile detention system (Quinn et. al., 2005). As consequences are administered, students exist in a self-perpetuating internalization of problematic behavior, which in turn forms part of their identity. Yet, students are often unwilling to surrender their identities at the door of these alternative restrictive settings.
According to McNulty and Roseboro (2009), students who are deprived of self- authorship observe their behavior as a “last stand” (p. 422) to preserve their sense of autonomy and self-direction. Part of the ongoing issues of behavior in alternative schools is related to a student’s preservation of self and ensuing power struggles that emerge with school staff. Using a critical lens, this ongoing tension and conflict between students and staff in alternative schools can be associated with their struggle against domination, a phenomenon some scholars refer to as “resistance theory” (Knight Abowitz, 2000).
According to Knight Abowitz (2000), “Resistance theorists have attempted to explain why the opposition of some groups against others is politically and morally necessary in
23 social institutions where mainstream ideologies dominate to discipline participants and social norms” (p. 878). Although not necessarily rational behaviors, these ongoing conflicts are forms of communication by the student and can be signals of institutional oppression and inequality. These sociological issues, in combination with poor educational prognosis of ED students in restrictive alternative schools, speak to the necessity of exploring the inner worlds of teachers as they make these weighty placement decisions.
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Chapter 3: Methodology and Methods
Introduction
In this chapter I provide an explicit account of the epistemological, ontological, and theoretical assumptions that undergird this work. As noted in Quantz (2017a), the reason, narration, language, and practice that occurs within research springs out of fundamental research choices that are made prior to the development of methods. Quantz
(2017a) notes that through:
…discourse we argue that the distinctions among methodologies are located in
how we narrate, name, and trope our research, at least as much as how we reason
about it. By using discourse, we shift our attention away from the claims of reason
that are used to police the boundaries and bludgeon our politics under the guise of
neutral science and, instead, focus our attention on the conversations of those who
speak to each other about their research. In so doing, we look at the common
themes that arise in those conversations. We look at the repeated metaphors, the
magic words, the stories told, the morality claimed, the political interests served
by the discourses, and we acknowledge that the boundaries are fuzzy and policed,
not by the neutral hand of nature, but by the power of those who can. (p. 4)
Given these basic parameters to research, I have attempted to explicate my epistemological, ontological, and theoretical assumptions so that the reader can make sense of the discourse, language, assumptions, and practice that is fused within my study.
I then provide a methodological orientation that is built upon these considerations.
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Epistemology, Ontology, and Theory
The purpose of this study is to learn about the moral, ethical, and political experiences that bear down on teachers who are involved in the educational placement decisions for ED identified students. As I worked to identify a philosophical stance that would guide this study, I became torn between critical and post-critical discourses. I began to believe that picking a single discourse to better understand my data seemed paralyzing, restrictive, and even unnecessary and looked toward other scholarship to help me unravel my dilemma. In her work with student developmental theory, Abes (2009) employed a plurality of theoretical perspectives to discover new ways of viewing her data, an approach she referred to as theoretical borderlands. She built her rationale around
Claude Lévi-Strauss’s (1966) concept of bricolage which was originally understood as simply a handywo/man who used the necessary tools to complete a task. The term bricoleur has expanded to include scholarship that “…works the margins and liminal spaces between both formal knowledge, and what has been proposed as boundary knowledge, knitting them together, forming a new consciousness” (Lincoln, 2001, p.
694). Kincheloe (2001) further explains:
The bricolage exists out of respect for the complexity of the lived world and
complications of power. The task of the bricoleur is to attack this complexity,
uncovering the invisible artifacts of power and culture, and documenting the
nature of their influence on not only their own works but on scholarship in
general. (p. 317)
All things considered, I wanted to use discourses in a way that was intellectually useful for helping understand the problems with ED student placement. As such, I
26 predominantly used post-critical elements to build my fictional narrative and then used critical theory to guide my analysis of the story, although the boundaries between the discourses are soft, with elements of both discourses found throughout all aspects of this work.
In using a post-critical perspective, I borrow from what Noblit (2004) refers to as a broadly defined and critically-minded postmodernist tradition. As noted in Jones,
Torres, Arminio (2014), post-critical research makes basic assumptions regarding the nature of reality and knowledge. For the post-criticalist, power is a factor of what and how we arrive at the knowledge that governs actions in communities (Jones, Torres,
Arminio, 2014). Quantz (2017b) expands on this definition of post-criticalism by noting that in this discourse, scholarship emanates from sociocultural, historical, and political contexts. In other words, our basic assumptions regarding reality are mediated by ever moving forces of culture and society that are not fixed but are shifting and reforming.
Another element of post-criticalism that I wanted to embrace is the phenomena of multivoiceness, where competing and sometimes contradictory voices are sounding at the same time. This is particularly evident in the fictional narrative that I created, where numerous voices come together to create a push-pull effect where one cannot easily align with any one character or their motivations. The moral implications within the narrative remain diffuse and complex without further theoretical analysis. Quantz (2017b) notes:
One of the major tasks of postcritical discourses is to reveal the multivoicedness
of the assumed coherent and consistent voice of official knowledge. By exploring
and resituating the rhetorical aspects of accepted texts, postcritical scholars are
able to reveal the multiplicitous meanings and the various interests at play.
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Postcritical discourses tend to be as skeptical of the claim of unity often made by
oppositional voices as they are of the assertion of truth found in the dominant
regime. (p. 5)
The fictional narrative within this current study used a multivoiceness that runs with and against the dominant exposition surrounding students identified as ED to both create friction and prompt introspection for the reader.
However, with my connection to this study, including my role as a school psychologist, I was unable to leave the narrative abandoned without some form of political action that impacts praxis, hence the use of critical discourse that I later use in my discussion of the narrative. Whereas the narrative exists as post-critical narrative, my analysis is critical as it “…commits to demystifying the world so that the way people talk about the world cuts through the fog that shrouds and justifies our unequal, inequitable, unjust, and undemocratic social world and, through such demystification, makes social transformation possible” (Quantz, 2017b, pgs. 3-4). As such, a critical discourse is used to further explore the “socio-cultural and political relationships of domination and subordination that create social inequality in society” (Kim, 2016, p. 36), particularly as it relates to the placement of ED identified students in alternative school settings.
Although I include two different discourses within this study, I believe there is adequate justification in scholarship to embrace of both discourses within a single study.
Kincheloe, McLaren, and Steinberg (2011) have written about the recent reconceptualizations of critical theory, which have incorporated the post-discourses of the latter twentieth century (e.g., post-structuralism and postmodernism) in light of the social and historical forces that undergird processes within society. They note that the criticalist
28 must evaluate the power structures inherent in society through social and historical practice. Quantz (2017b) suggests that critical and post-critical discourses have significant differences but share many similarities with their focus on social emancipation and democracy. He suggests, “Like critical discourses, postcritical discourses argue that one cannot study social phenomena without bringing personal values to that study and these discourses agree that education and educational research are not just influenced by politics, they are political acts” (p. 7). As such, I believe there is ample justification to pick and choose elements of both discourses, creating a theoretical borderland within this work. Finally, it is my belief that if educators can become more cognizant of instances of injustice and unfairness that may exist within their praxis, there exists a higher likelihood of creating reform efforts that can make the schooling process more equitable for students identified as ED (Darling-Hammond & Bransford, 2007).
Methodological Orientation
In recent decades, a growing pool of scholarship has begun using narratives to understand the lives of students identified as ED (Baroutsis, Mills, McGregor, Riele &
Hayes, 2016; Best, Price, & McCallum, 2015; Washington, 2008). This “genre blurring”
(Geertz, 1983, p. 165) once existed as contested ground, as many researchers did not consider narrative to be a legitimate form of scholarship. Objections to narrative methods occurred as many social researchers believed that scholarly legitimacy was created by imitating the positivist assumptions found within the biological sciences. As Geertz
(1983) further explicates, the humanities began a process of departing from these assumptions and began “looking less for the sort of thing that connects planets and pendulums and more for the sort that connects chrysanthemums and swords” (p. 165).
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He furthers the dissolution of the arts-science dichotomy by positioning narrative research in what Kim (2016) refers to as “an understanding of human and social phenomena with recourse to literary analogies and symbols” (Kim, 2016, p. 137).
Although I believe narrative methods are now better understood and accepted in academia, I briefly outline narratology and narrative inquiry here to foreground the disciplines and methods undergirding my study.
Currie (2011) describes narratology to be the “theory of systematic study of narrative…[which] is central to representation of identity, in personal memory and self- representation or in the collective identity of group…” (pp. 1-2). According to Bal
(2009), narratology is “…the ensemble of theories of narratives, narrative texts, images, spectacles, events, and cultural artifacts that tell a story” (p. 3). In short, narratology is a discipline for how we study the structures of stories (Bal, 2009). Narratology as a discipline helps to define the contours of narrative, including the complex interaction of concepts and thinking that transmit different types of ideology within the stories we read or construct (Bal, 2009). This occurs as the language of the narrator has the power to illuminate specific aspects of a character’s world, whereas “seeing, taken in the widest sense, constitutes the object of narrating” (Bal, 2009, p. 18). That is to say, “seeing” provides a generic schema of images, which are detailed and visualized in the mind of the reader, and subsequently carve out a new pathway to knowing. In this way, narratology is the backgrounded theory that undergirds any type of narrative inquiry and provides a level of legitimacy for accepting narratives as scholarship.
Nested within narratology is a type of research design called narrative inquiry. In its simplest form, narrative inquiry is a process of answering questions in scholarship
30 through the stories of others (Kim, 2016). Narrative inquiry begins with questions and enigmas that puzzle, and then links a story’s content to the broader social frame (Kim,
2016). Clandinin and Connelly (2000) note that narrative inquiry is a “collaboration between researcher and participants, over time, in a place or series of places, and in social interaction with milieus” (p. 20). Clandinin et. al. (2006) expand on this definition in their later work:
People shape their daily lives by stories of who they and others are and as they
interpret their past in terms of these stories. Story, in the current idiom, is a portal
through which a person enters the world and by which their experience of the
world is interpreted and made personally meaningful. Narrative inquiry, the study
of experience as story, then, is first and foremost a way of thinking about
experience. Narrative inquiry as a methodology entails a view of the
phenomenon. To use narrative inquiry methodology is to adopt a particular view
of experience as phenomenon under study. (p. 375)
As Clandinin et. al. (2006) indicate above, narrative inquiry is a research method that cracks open the storied lives of individuals, illuminating the salient moments in meaningful ways that are both vivid and vicarious for the reader. Consequently, narrative inquiry is appropriate for teaching us about the sociocultural, political, and moral forces involved in placing ED identified students within restrictive alternative school settings.
There are many mediums of presenting narrative data within narrative inquiry.
Abbott (2002) defines these mediums as genres or “recurrent literary forms” (p. 49). The genre that I have elected to use for this study is fiction. According to Kim (2016), fiction is a type of arts based, academic writing that seeks to replicate some sort of truth through
31 fictional devices, or what Clough (2002) calls “symbolic equivalents” (p. 8). Fiction employs traditional mechanisms of fictional writing such as allusion, epigraph, foreshadowing, imagery, metaphor, and other tools to create a story. Fiction attempts to interweave academic ethnography and literature to provide evocative instruction and knowledge (Shann, 2014). Using sociological imagination, fiction is uniquely positioned to explore the personal and social complexity of schools using intrapersonal vision and creativity (Kim, 2016).
In his work exploring the world of pre-service teachers, Shann (2014) uses fiction to distill the stories of teachers completing their student teaching. He notes:
…we all suspected that the creation of imagined worlds was a valid way of
discovering aspects of the real world inaccessible to more rational methodologies.
The writing of a piece of fiction is an attempt to draw on intuition, imagination,
and metaphor to see more deeply into an aspect of the experienced world. It
involves wrestling with what emerges in order to put it through some kind of
refiner’s fire to test its authenticity. (Shann, 2014, p. 129)
In some cases, fictional devices may even convey truths more effectively than scientific language, as it tells stories that would be told if they could be. As such, fiction as a work of scholarship opens the gateway to new interpretations and alternative theoretical engagements (Maitland, 2012).
Kim (2016) indicates that good fiction is scholarly and academic when it explores societal questions using theory to explore potential meanings, and includes composites and constructions using bits and pieces of the author and the participants (Kim, 2016).
Well written narratives provide a high degree of verisimilitude, where the reader is
32 emerged and captured by the perspectives and stories found within the human experiences in question (Kim, 2016). After the narrative is told, the researcher infuses his or her meaning onto the page through narration, but each reader experiences a unique story, enhanced by their own notions, beliefs, and personal knowing (Bal, 2009).
Through story, the reader constructs their own interpretive, subjective knowledge of the world presented on the page.
According to Leavy (2016), fiction is well suited for qualitative investigations and accomplishes the following three goals:
1. Portraying the complexity of lived experience or illuminating human
experience (linking the particular and the universal, or micro and macro
levels);
2. Promoting empathy and self-reflection (as a part of a compassionate, engaged,
or social justice approach to research); and
3. Disrupting dominant ideologies or stereotypes (including building critical
consciousness and raising awareness). (p. 38)
These goals of scholarly fiction align with my research question. As noted in the literature review, ED scholarship is dominated by empirical learnings, etiology, disease, hopelessness, and large data pools. However, fiction provides a unique, visceral, and telescopic view for one of the most vulnerable student groups, those identified as ED, and subsequently placed in alternative settings for education.
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Part II
Methods
Genre
As noted by Bloomberg and Volpe (2016), extensive engagement with participants in their social worlds is essential for conducting qualitative research. For my study, I drew on Kim’s (2016) understanding of narrative thinking in my approach to developing methods: “…narrative thinking is a method of creating a story by organizing experiences around our perception, thought, memory, and imagination” (p. 156). As previously noted, a defining feature of narrative inquiry includes temporality, sociality, and place (Clandinin and Connelly, 2000). That is to say that individuals experience lived realities that are situated within time: a virtual landscape of events, people, and places that are ever evolving within a “temporal transition” (Clandinin & Rosiek, 2007, p.
69). Through narrative thinking, I began to think of data as a series of interconnected relationships that could be developed into a work of fiction (Kim, 2016).
Kim (2016) suggests that fiction allows for numerous types of data collection processes to generate narratives including reflexive research created from the author’s personal experiences or traditional qualitative data collection procedures. To generate rich, vivid stories, I used a combination of methods including interviews, surfacing my own experiences as an educator, and document analysis of teacher field texts (i.e., teacher stories, field notes, and research interviews, etc.). I also considered de Freittas’s (as cited in Leavey, 2013) notes on her scholarship:
…in my own fiction writing, I plunder my experiences, my language, and my
very being, to achieve an exactness in my sentences and paragraphs, grooming
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them over and over until they match my intentions and my sense of potential
impact. (p. 267)
Through my work as a school psychologist, I have years of accumulated knowledge, experience, and work with teachers and students that I accessed as I worked to create my fictional narrative.
The purpose of these data collection procedures was to gather information necessary to create a fictionalized retelling using the form of a novella. Through the novella format, I could take teacher stories and reimagine them into narrative scenes that included targeted characteristics. The novella provided a format that included narration, character dialogue, signs, signals, foreshadowing, characterization, themes, and motifs and other tools that reconstitute the original data into an eyewitness narrative that was designed to resonate through emotional-cognitive pathways. I also wanted to create a novella that prompted the reader towards making micro-macro connections, so that they could challenge, disrupt, and subvert taken for granted assumptions (Leavy, 2016) in the process of placing students in alternative school settings.
The final phase of this study included further data collection by interviewing the study’s teacher respondents through a focus group. According to Jones, Torres, and
Arminio (2014), focus groups provide an avenue of data collection designed to reveal differing points-of-view. A focus group was deemed essential to this study, “since the lively collective interaction may bring forth more spontaneous expressive and emotional views than in individual, often more cognitive interviews” (Kvale & Brinkman, 2009, p.
150). However, rather than a series of interview questions, this component of the study was created as a highly structured experience where the teacher respondents were asked
35 to interact with the novella that was partially created from their interviews (Appendix D).
Guiding questions focused on themes of morality, power, and socio-cultural motifs that occurred within the novella. These questions were designed to stir the recollections, memories, images, and feelings pertaining to determining the LRE of students with an
ED identification and then used in the last chapter as a means of creating a collective conclusion with the participants.
Sampling and Recruitment
The participants for this study included five, licensed general education teachers from various regional school districts. Although five participants may be considered a relatively low number, “the intent in qualitative research is not to generalize the information… but to elucidate the particular” (Creswell, 2013, p. 157). Additionally, as previously noted, the genre of fiction writing allows for numerous types of data collection processes to generate narratives including reflexive research created from the author’s personal experiences or traditional qualitative data collection procedures (Leavy, 2016). I sought out information-rich stories to enable me to build a complex and interesting story based on lived experiences that were true to my own experiences, in addition to the experiences of the teacher participants.
The inclusion criteria for the study evolved slightly during recruitment. In general, participants were required to have been the teacher of record for at least one student identified as ED, as indicated within special education law, within the past two years. Participants were also selected based on their specific experiences with the identified student. They were required to have participated in an IEP meeting where the student was moved from the school of residence to an alternative school placement.
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Finally, each teacher was selected based on their ability to provide specific, information- rich details about their interactions with the student.
Participants were identified using a snowball or chain sampling strategy.
According to Creswell (2013), a snowball sampling strategy, “Identifies cases of interest from people who know people who know what cases are information-rich” (p. 158). The five general education teachers were identified by contacting the gatekeeper within each district via email. I developed a list of potential school districts within the region, including the name of each district administrator assigned to manage their district’s special education programs. Follow up contact with these gatekeepers occurred through phone calls or in-person meetings to explain the purpose of the study, inclusion criteria, and how teacher participants would be contacted.
Administrators were then required to identify potential participant candidates based on their understanding of the study and the information presented in the consent forms (Appendix A). The administrator then provided me with teacher names and contact information. Once the teacher was contacted, they were also provided with an overview of the study, including the interview format and locations, how their data would be stored and analyzed, and the voluntary nature of the study. Similar to the consent forms provided to the gatekeepers, teachers were also provided an advanced copy of a consent form (Appendix B), which they were then asked to sign before beginning the interview process. All interviews with participants occurred exclusively in reserved private study rooms in local libraries, near the participants’ places of employment.
For the interview, a semi-structured interview protocol was developed (Appendix
C) with purposeful questions designed to elicit the storied experiences of teachers and the
37 students identified as ED within their classroom. According to Kim (2016), “Interviews provide unique insights into the complex lives of individuals in society…we understand that our interviews will tell stories based on their narrative schema that reflects personal knowledge and experiences arranged by their cognitive strategies” (p. 157). Each interview lasted approximately 50 to 65 minutes in length and four of the participants participated in two interviews. Another participant elected to participate in one interview of 75 minutes. These interviews were recorded and transcribed for further analysis and coded to develop specific themes and/or motifs. The data coding process is described in further detail in the data analysis section.
Ethics
As a researcher, I have an ethical obligation to protect the participants in this study.
As such, I took precautions to make sure that my research results provided new knowledge but also protected participants’ confidentiality according to my specific methods. As such, I believe there are numerous considerations for a study that fictionalizes participant experiences. First, I consider researchers to have a moral obligation to portray the lives of individuals in a truthful, sensitive, and realistic manner.
As such, I made every effort to avoid one-dimensional or simple characters in my story and felt it necessary to create characters who were complex and nuanced. Every effort was made to ensure a truthful rendering of events and situations that could occur in reality (Leavy, 2016).
I also made efforts to protect the identities of my participants. According to Jones,
Torres, and Arminio (2014), “Confidentiality refers to the treatment of information that the individual has knowingly disclosed in a research relationship or context with an
38 expectation that this information will not be disclosed to unauthorized parties without consent” (p. 176). Additionally, anonymity refers to not sharing identifiable data if and when information is shared through the research process (Jones, Torres, and Arminio,
2014). As such, part of my research protocol with teacher participants was the insistence that pseudonyms be used for all students and staff. Additionally, school building and district names were not used by the participants during the interviews but were provided with other descriptors (ex. School A, District I, etc.). All research data was stored in a secured and encrypted location.
Another important ethical consideration was the power differential implicit to the researcher and participant relationship. Therefore, specific care was made to explore possible imbalances of power and to ensure teacher respondents felt at ease during the research process. This required a constant reflexive practice for ensuring that my status as a white and privileged male did not unduly manipulate or force a teacher respondent to act in a manner they would not otherwise choose. As noted in Kim (2016), “A caring reflexive narrative inquirer would be attuned to her ways of respecting the dignity and integrity of her research participants, paying special attention to everyday narrative ethics in practice while preserving her integrity as the researcher as well” (p. 106). Rather than a cold or sterile examination of participant experiences, I made every effort to infuse a warm and collegial relationship with the teacher participants.
As already indicated, informed consent was gathered from all teacher respondents as well as from district administrators in each of their school districts. Again, Jones,
Torres, and Arminio (2014) define informed consent as a process through which a written statement is signed by the participants to indicate that they are informed of the study’s
39 purposes and the extent of their involvement within it. Each administrator gatekeeper and teacher participant had an opportunity to think through the requirements of the study, study the consent documents, and determine if they wanted to participate or withdraw participation at any time. In compliance with Miami University’s standards for research,
I submitted the necessary application for my study to be reviewed and approved by the
Institutional Review Board (IRB) and participated in necessary online training as required by the Miami University’s IRB.
Trustworthiness
Traditional qualitative research typically espouses the importance of trustworthiness to bolster the credibility of the data presented and to limit the degree of subjectivity embedded within the study results. Trustworthiness in qualitative research typically is achieved through multiple data types or triangulation to both monitor and reduce the subjectivity of the researcher (Creswell, 2013). In narrative inquiry, knowledge is the retold experiences of real-life events that flow through me and the participants within the study. This knowledge is based on actual events that occurred and are recalled within the data collection processes. As the researcher, I used teacher recollection of events and happenings, in addition to my own experiences to then arrive at themes. These themes were preserved through a process of coding, so they could be both culled and preserved for creating a narrative that both pulls and compels the reader towards an evocative knowledge that would otherwise remain hidden or peripheral, and subsequently unknowable. These realities exist as a subtle, magical, lyrical, and visceral truth that can only be experienced through stories that wish to be told. As noted by
Rinehart (1998),
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[Fictional ethnography] combines the realist goals of academic ethnography and
fiction, but with an eye to both instruction and feeling. In fictional ethnography,
writers may attempt to relate the chaos of the world to the reader…In fictional
ethnography, most authors attempt to replicate the "sense" of the experience. If
something did not necessarily happen the way it was reported, recollection made it
feel as if it did. (p. 204)
As such, a successful narrative inquiry can be assessed for credibility based on the degree it successfully resonates with the reader on an emotive level and conveys the themes and real events that occurred for both the participants and the researcher.
Limitations
The most obvious limitations for this study pertain to the low number of participants who were involved in this study. As the events in the novella are idiosyncratic to the stories told by the participants and my own professional experiences, they cannot be generalized. However, the themes and events that occur within the fictional story may be compared or connected to those that have had similar experiences.
Additionally, many teachers were contacted to contribute to this study and elected not to participate. Had the number of participants been higher or more varied, a very different fictional narrative may have emerged. Finally, the narrative was also shaped based on my knowledge, expertise, and experiences as a school psychologist. As such, other school psychologists employed in different school settings or with different experiences may have focused on different themes, given their internal filtering of the data. As such, this combined work is primarily representative of only my own experiences, the stories shared by my participants, and the use of existing literature.
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Data Analysis
After completing participant interviews, I had nearly 180 pages of transcript data to unravel and make sense of. Before selecting a specific coding procedure or analysis protocol, I read and reread the interview transcripts to begin processing, reflecting, and visualizing the stories told by my participants. I made analytic memos to myself in the margins of the transcripts, where I asked questions, identified symbols, and wrote about my own similar experiences, making connections from my participants’ lived experiences to my own time and practice in the public school setting. During this immersion in the data, I was struck with the emotive, complex, value-laden, and even unbelievable stories that were shared with me.
As I considered the transcript data, I also continued to accumulate further experiences at my place of employment that provided me with even greater nuance and further insight into my participants’ stories. Whether through casual conversations with teachers or my formal classroom observations of students with behavioral differences, I continued to reflect, think, consider, question, and examine what I had heard from these five teachers. Although my participants and I were employed in separate school settings and communities, I found that many of our encounters with students, families, other school staff, and communities were similar, interchangeable at times, and perhaps even universal. Each reading and rereading of the transcripts helped me to imagine a story I was eager to tell.
After considering all these things, it became clear to me that there was a disconnection between how these events were experienced in real-time by the participants, versus the selective memory and subsequent retellings as authored by my
42 participants. Due to the reported trauma that these teachers experienced and witnessed, these stories seemed to be stored away or buried, existing outside even their own consciousness until uttered within the interview. The French novelist Marcel Proust concludes in his epic novel A la recherche du temps perdu:
The greatness of veritable art was to regain, to recapture, to make us know that
reality at a distance of which we live, from which we separate ourselves more and
more as the conventional knowledge which we substitute for it acquires a greater
thickness and impermeability, that reality which we would run the risk of dying
without having known, and which is quite simply our life. (Remacle, 1954, p.
895)
Proust’s observation that, through art, we can find the existent reality that makes up our lives motivated me to look hard for the story within the interviews. I didn’t want these teacher stories to simply fade into the dark corners of memory; but instead I wanted to revive them to serve an edifying purpose. With this goal I became even more convinced that these teacher stories, retold through fiction, could enlighten our understanding of how power and morality impact schools, teachers, and the students they teach or those they choose to send away.
After my initial immersion into the transcripts, I considered various coding processes using Saldaña’s (2013) text The Coding Manual for Qualitative Researchers,
2nd Edition. Although fiction writing as a genre of scholarship does not require traditional coding procedures, I was hesitant to ignore the traditional practices of qualitative research, given that I had an existing data set, and felt that coding my data would add to the credibility of my research. I also believed that coding the data would
43 provide me with further insights into my participants’ stories and force me into a deeper and more reflective analysis of the research data. Saldaña (2013) notes that ontological questions that address the nature of participant realities are indicative of a personal and interpretive coding process. I was also interested in using a coding process that might unearth the actions, processes, and perceptions of the participants within the data. Given that my research questions focused on moral and political acts, ethics, justice, and narrative, I selected a first cycle coding method used for literary and language methods referred to as “dramaturgy”.
In general, dramaturgical coding is often used to help analyze the sociological, psychological, and cultural constructs that are found within the data. As noted by
Saldaña (2013), “Dramaturgical coding attunes the researcher to the qualities, perspectives, and drives of the participant. It also provides a deep understanding of how humans in social action, reaction, and interaction interpret and manage conflict” (p. 124).
Dramaturgical coding uses prescriptive codes to analyze the text:
1 participant–actor objectives, motives in the form of action verbs: OBJ;
2 conflicts or obstacles confronted by the participant–actor which prevent him or
her from achieving his or her objectives: CON;
3 participant–actor tactics or strategies to deal with conflicts or obstacles and to
achieve his or her objectives: TAC;
4 participant–actor attitudes toward the setting, others, and the conflict: ATT;
5 emotions experienced by the participant–actor (see Emotion Coding): EMO;
6 subtexts, the participant–actor’s unspoken thoughts or impression management,
in the form of gerunds (see Process Coding): SUB (Saldaña, 2013, p. 123)
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Each of these codes were used generously with each line of data that emerged from my interviews. The following example comes from my data set:
Table 1
Initial Dramaturgical Coding
TEXTUAL DATA PAGE CODE SUBCODE # “Well, my first thoughts were please 1 Attitude Classroom just stop!” burden “My second thought was actually for 1 Attitude Unfair the other kids.” “It was unfair to them and that’s the 1 Emotion Frustration frustrating part.” “I’m teaching this lesson and I’m not 1 Conflict Getting through able to get through it.” the content “So, I needed to figure out how I was 1 Attitude Classroom going to deescalate him as well as burden manage the other 24 children in here.” “I'm not going to be able to teach this 1 Conflict Getting through content today, so I'm going to have to the content push… it's a cycling effect…so I’m going to push everything back.” “How am I going to keep these kids 1 Objective Safety safe because he could be so volatile?”
For the initial round of dramaturgical coding, a combination of in vivo and gerund codes were used in combination with a secondary code that revealed perspectives, motives, and conflicts of the participant. As I journeyed through the coding process, I determined that
I was going to generate secondary codes that were in line with my “gut reaction.” After I had completed my initial coding using the dramaturgical process of analysis, I reread transcripts and revised many of my secondary codes as I compared the themes and motifs that began to emerge from the data. I made the revisions to these secondary codes for
45 numerous reasons. First, I viewed my first round of coding as practice, given that the process of coding was still relatively novel for me. Second, I began to employ two necessary components of dramaturgical coding suggested by Saldaña (2013). For each line of text, I asked the question regarding both the ED identified student and teacher,
“What kind of trouble is this person in?” as recommended by Saldaña (2013). This question was provocative as it helped me more fully understand the inner struggles, attitudes, and subtext within the data sets. Relatedly, I considered the concept that
Saldaña (2013) describes as “the superobjective – the overall or ultimate goal of the participant in the social drama” (p. 126). As Saldaña (2013) purports, if the superobjective is identified correctly within the coding, then the initial image management that can occur often within interviews can be transcended. In other words, identification of the superobjective helps to realize the participants’ attributes and motivations more fully, revealing a “backstage” knowledge of the participant’s motivations, emotional states, and inner conflicts. Given this new approach to the secondary codes, I was more easily able to recognize commonalities, themes, and motifs that existed within the participants’ experiences.
After I completed the first round of coding, I was presented with 1,321 unique secondary codes across the data set. To make the data more manageable and specific, I completed a second round of coding. As a blueprint, I referred to Cannon (2012), where she details her use of dramaturgical coding and the process of category creation based on those initial codes. Similar to Cannon (2012), I created a dictionary of codes, based on the commonalities between the dramaturgical codes, generating categories based on patterns and shared characteristics.
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Table 2
Categories Category name Codes Included Definition Examples EMO: Unwanted Detachment The various “Those six weeks Teacher Emotions Confusion emotions were the toughest Anger Building experienced by six weeks I’ve ever Stress the teacher “It was emotionally Conflicted throughout the exhausting.” Burnout school year in “You go home at the attempting to end of the day and educate you’re spent.”
Above (Table 2) is an abbreviated example of how some of the codes were condensed into 37 specific categories, similar to the process used by Cannon (2012). This process not only made the data more manageable but cast further light on the substance of the interview data, the teachers, and the inner and external conflicts they experienced while teaching. Additionally, this process of categorization allowed me to access some of the underlying beliefs and power relations that existed within these experiences. In a way, I was able to more easily plumb the depths of the inner turmoil, unspoken attitudes, and institutional values that eventually led to the student in question moving from the general education setting to a more restrictive alternative school.
Finally, I determined that a final process of coding was necessary to determine a sort of “critical essence” to the interview transcripts. Due to the significant number of conflicts that existed within my second round of coding for categories, once again I referred to Saldaña’s (2013) chapter on Code Mapping, a process of categorization, recategorization, and conceptualization to achieve a condensed textual view of my study.
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CATEGORY 1: Teacher vs. Student CATEGORY 2: Teacher vs. Parent
Subcategories: Subcategories: • Maintaining order and safety • Building and maintaining rapport • Creating an educative community and legitimacy with family • Finding opportunities for students • Letting go of uncontrolled familial to flourish and child-based variables • Managing and resolving conflict with family
CATEGORY 3: Teacher vs. Institution CATEGORY 4: Teacher and Community vs. Self
Subcategories: Subcategories: • Finding institutional resources • Employing self-regulatory and • Managing conflict with self-care strategies community and institution • Finding power and inner capacity to achieve educative aims
Figure 1. Unique Code Mapping Categories
This process of coding not only condensed and organized my data into sturdy and substantive themes, it also provided me with an internal auditing of my data, where the overall trustworthiness and credibility of the narrative inquiry was enhanced. To arrive at the above categories (Figure 1), I used a Versus coding procedure for the categories that emerged after both the dramaturgical and categorization processes. Once again, Saldaña
(2013) served as a helpful reference to guide me in this process of finalizing my coding.
He notes, “Versus codes identify in dichotomous or binary terms the individuals, groups, social systems, organizations, phenomena, processes, concepts, etc., in direct conflict with each other” (Saldaña’s, 2013, p. 115). Conflict suggests power relationships, which can also imply moral decisions. As such, I felt that this tertiary process of code mapping was helpful for finalizing my data results, creating the themes and motifs that were
48 necessary for developing a fictional ethnography. However, even with these final summative codes, I also continued to cycle back and forth between my secondary categories (Figure 2) and the final themes which arose from the code mapping process as
I wrote my narrative.
Once these final codes were created, I then had to determine a type of narrative framework that would best utilize the major themes that emerged from the coding process. The obvious options ranged from short vignettes, short stories, a novelette or novella, or a full-fledged novel. For example, I read through the novel, The Education of
Sam Sanders (Poetter, 2006), to develop an understanding of how scholarship could be presented through the medium of a post-apocalyptic, science fiction genre. For reasons that I present within the introduction to my narrative, I eventually elected to present my data through a novella. During my analysis of the original transcripts, I observed that each participant’s story followed a general progression of stages or plot points about their interactions with the ED identified student. I felt a novella was of sufficient length to present that data, create a compelling narrative, and cover many of the categories and themes that existed within the original transcripts. By definition, a novella is a type of prose fiction, which is shorter than full length novels and longer than short stories
(Leavy, 2016).
As I considered how to write a work of fiction, I explored various theories pertaining to how stories are created, as I wanted to create a story that existed outside a closed message or meaning, using a post-critical discourse. Although chapter 5 is my interpretation and analysis of the story I created, I also wanted to give the reader the freedom to arrive at their own conclusions regarding the events of the novella, using
49 multivoiceness. As noted in Zaib and Mashori (2014), “… a text (narrative) is a galaxy of signifiers which can produce multiple meanings by the participation of the reader in a meaning producing phenomenon” (p. 172). In that way, the novella possesses a postmodern flair, where the intent of the author is perhaps divorced from the conclusions formed by the reader.
Finally, as I created the fictional narrative, I wanted to use underlying codes and signifiers that were based on a theoretical framework. I used Zaib and Mashori’s (2014) work to provide me with a good summary of the poststructuralist and French linguist
Roland Barthes’s theory of five codes. The five codes were developed by Barthes as a way of reading text that identifies both signifiers and their multiple meanings that can be prescribed by the reader. Briefly, these five codes are referred to as the hermeneutic, proairetic, semantic, symbolic, and cultural. Barthes (1974) refers to these codes as
“weaving of voice” (p. 20) and one or more of these codes are found in most narrative texts. Using Barthes’ theory of codes, I created a novella that was infused with these codes. The codes are defined below, using Zaib’s and Mashori’s (2014) explication, as their definitions are readily understood:
Hermeneutic: “The enigmatic, puzzling and mysterious elements of a text that make
the reader curious to unveil their mystery” (p. 173).
Proairetic: The code “…refers to those elements of a narrative which create tension
in its plot. These suspensive elements play a dual role in a text. At first, they
proclaim that something is going to happen and secondly, they make the reader
attentive and respondent to resolve the tension” (p. 172).
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Semantic: “The semantic code is also termed as the connotative code…it refers to
those elements of a text which can better be understood by implying their suggestive
and connotative meanings” (p. 173).
Symbolic Code: “The code refers to the antithetical and contrasted elements of the
text by which the reader (being a postructuralist) tries to organize the
reality…through this code the reader focuses on the binary polarities” (p. 174).
Cultural Code: “This code is also referred as the referential code…It pertains to
those elements which share a common knowledge of the world. Here, the reader
focuses on the physical, physiological, medical, psychological, literary and historical
properties of characters of the story to identify a common knowledge” (p. 174).
As I wrote the novella, I attempted to work backward to infuse my work with these codes to further “theorize” the narrative inquiry, create an emotive undercurrent to the story, and add “glue” to hold the story together. Using all of these methods, I eventually arrived at the creation of the following novella that I have entitled, Oh, The Places You
Will Go! which is a play on the title of Dr. Seuss’s picture book (Geisel, 1990), but seemed fitting for the events found within the story.
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Chapter 4: Oh, The Places You Will Go!
Introduction
The idea of writing a fictional piece on the topic of Emotional Disturbance arose during my capstone course at Miami University after reading through a “twice-told” account of a young girl named Alice and her journey in understanding her own physical abilities (Nilges, 2001). In her study, Nilges (2001) recounts real events, conversations, and observations that occurred in Alice’s life and then retells her story using additional layers of fiction in what she describes as an “impressionist tale.” In this tale, we understand that Alice perceives her abilities as fixed within her gender, limited by myths that are perpetuated by the boys around her. The tale includes an imaginary conversation between the author and Alice, where the source of her self-perceptions about gendered physical abilities are uncovered. I read through the article numerous times, as it reoriented my understanding of what scholarship is and can be. Nilges’s (2001) work opened a door which allowed me to see how my own professional experiences with students and families could be transformed into a narrative that might spark new knowledge, especially for the things that trouble me as a school psychologist. Through this narrative about Alice, I also came to see that fiction can be an act of scholarship, which provides the reader with insight and knowledge regarding how placement decisions for students identified as ED constitute both political and moral acts.
In his short chapter, Opening Myself up to Writing Fiction, Poetter (2001) describes his process of transitioning from traditional scholarship to writing a piece of scholarly fiction for a project which eventually evolved into the book, The Education of
Sam Sanders. For Poetter, fiction required a process which he describes as “opening up”
52 where he not only opened his mind to the act of creative writing but opened himself up to the possibility that fiction can be written in a scholarly way. I read through Poetter’s piece after writing my narrative and thought it could be of benefit to the reader if I briefly describe some of my own initial misgivings about writing fiction and how the process unfolded towards completion.
Despite my enthusiasm for wanting to write a scholarly piece of fiction, the task seemed almost insurmountable, given that I had virtually no experience with writing fiction. I was concerned that my work would be unoriginal, or else that my prose would be stilted, or that the plot would be boring. I also worried that the piece would not hold together, or that I would run headlong into a case of writer’s block (which I did several times). My only solace in moving forward was that I was going to write about a world that I had known and experienced, given my role as a school psychologist. So, as a novice with the fiction writing process, I began the task of sketching out a brief outline and then plodding headlong into writing chapters, even though I still had large gaps with planning for scenes, characters, structure, themes, and action. In retrospect, the process might have been easier had I prepared by reading some books on how to craft a work of fiction.
I completed almost all the narrative in a local coffee shop, likely leaving the baristas puzzled as to why I spent long stretches of time holed up in a booth with my laptop every Saturday. As I wrote, the hours washed by with hardly a stray thought. I skipped meals, missed scheduled events, and was always late arriving home with still more left to write, always ruminating about the story. Writing became my refuge, an imaginary world where I could create events that happened to characters who possessed
53 pieces of me. Sometimes I started the writing process with no direction at all. I even sometimes waited on bated breath to see what the next sentence would reveal about the characters or situation. When I became especially stuck on how to proceed with a chapter or section, I often stopped and explored my own memories, reimagining them happening to someone else in a different way. And as I wrote, I learned more about myself, my experiences in schools, and my decisions I have made as an educator. I certainly came across moments of writer’s block, problems with the narrative, and even questioned if I’d ever finish. In the end, the writing process involved a great deal of re- writing, throwing away paragraphs and even pages, and simply straining for the story that was inside.
The following narrative is completely fictitious, but it was derived from real experiences of teachers and my own stories working as a school psychologist. Although this work should be received as scholarly, I also want the reader to know that this story comes from a personal space. I have experienced a strong cognitive dissonance between what I felt was morally right for students with unique behavioral and emotional challenges, versus the practical demands they place on school resources. For example, I have observed and sensed a palpable sense of relief across classrooms and even school buildings when students that exhibit significantly disruptive behavior are eventually removed from the public school and placed in an alternative setting. In the wake of these decisions, the consensus for that child’s team was that they were finally getting the
“help” they need and that our classrooms can now return to functioning as expected. The rest of the survivors get back to serving and educating the students who fit the mold of
“ready to learn.” Although this conclusion has a ring of common sense for the typical
54 school professional, it has never sat well with me. Despite my feelings of unease, I have struggled to identify another approach or process which would better serve these students and balance the needs of all stakeholders in the public school setting. After I read through the study by Nilges (2001), I began to realize that I might not have answers, but perhaps a fictional retelling of how a teacher and student journey from the general education setting to an alternative school could jumpstart my thinking and perhaps the thinking of others.
As indicated in the literature review, a great deal of scholarship has provided us with descriptions of students identified as ED, which often falls into categories of behavior such as aggression, noncompliance, or severe issues of conduct. These studies examine teacher experience and student outcomes, or else review the state of affairs regarding various service models for students with unique emotional or behavioral needs.
Although these studies clarify components or aspects of ED, they don’t necessarily provide texture and nuance to how these experiences play out for teachers, including the moral and political forces that influence their role with alternative school placement decision making. The choices that classroom teachers face with serving the needs of the students in question, the other children in the classroom, and the pressures they face from their colleagues, administrators, and the greater community haven’t been sufficiently examined in the literature in such a visceral way. As I observed with my teacher interviews, there are many powerful internal and external pressures that come to bear on teachers when they are required to teach a classroom that includes a student identified as
ED. Some of these pressures will be explored in the following narrative. However, I believe there is no greater pressure these teachers experience than the pressures they
55 place on themselves, as they balance the needs of these unique learners with the rest of the students in the classroom.
While I was in the process of collecting the data for this study, I happened to watch a documentary entitled Best Worst Thing That Ever Happened (Klein & Price,
2016). The film provides a backward glance at a 1980s Stephen Sondheim Broadway production entitled Merrily We Roll Along (Sondheim, 1981). The musical follows the life and career of a composer named Franklin Shepherd who, once a budding songwriter, abandoned his friends and passion for writing music to become a wealthy Hollywood producer. Although he gained the things in life that he sought, he ultimately lost his best friends and faced numerous failed relationships. The musical employs a reverse chronology narrative format, prompting the audience with questions of “Why?” and
“How?” as they move from act one until the very last scene. This method of narrative is rarely employed as the ending of the story is provided at the beginning. There are numerous other examples of reverse chronology in literature including Virgil’s epic poem
The Aeneid (Virgil & Fitzgerald, 1983), The Three Apples from One Thousand and One
Nights (Shaykh, 2013), and Burnett’s novel Goodbye to the Past: Scenes from the Life of
William Meadows (Burnett, 1934), to name a few. Beyond the reverse chronological structuring, Sondheim’s musical was meant to prompt self-reflection with the title song posing questions about our life dreams and how in the pursuit of these dreams we often reach a very different destination due to the variables of life. The title song notes, “Time goes by and hopes go dry, but you still can try for your dreams” (Sondheim, 1981, songbook). Sondheim seems to suggest that disappointments are inventible as we seek after our goals and aspire for higher things. That is, disillusionment remains a burden for
56 us all as we begin to understand that reaching and achieving goals can come at a cost or even pose collateral damage. It was through the theming and reverse chronological narrative structuring of Merrily We Roll Along that the story of a classroom teacher,
Samantha Sullivan, took shape. For the reader who is familiar with Merrily We Roll
Along, certain structuring and themes from the musical can be observed, sprinkled lightly throughout the story.
The following narrative recounts Samantha Sullivan’s experiences as a first year teacher and the adversity she encounters as she attempts to teach a student named Josiah
Robb. Josiah Robb presents with numerous behavioral and social differences that leads
Samantha or “Sam” to question her abilities, her character, and perhaps even her decision to teach. Like the Stephen Sondheim musical, I employ a reverse chronological structure as I tell her story. Rather than focusing on what might come next in a predictable sequence of events, I want the reader to begin asking the questions of “Why?” and
“How?” after reading the conclusion to the teacher’s time with this child, which is the first chapter of the novella. I also employed this method of storytelling as it dovetailed perfectly with answering my research question, which is to better understand the political, moral, and ethical forces that push students into alternative school settings.
Beyond the actual structure of the story, I created a narrative that was purposefully incomplete or even vague on numerous levels. I wanted to create a story that was filled with voids so that the reader might “fill in” the missing details with their own experiences. I hope that the reader could then personally connect with the narrative and maybe even envision themselves in the story. Relatedly, the reader is also provided only a “tip of the iceberg” description with regards to Josiah’s history, life experiences,
57 motivations, and environmental factors that might be propelling his behavior. This decision was made as I believe it’s common knowledge that schools frequently operate with partial and incomplete information as they serve students with exceptional needs. In my experience, parents do not always provide relevant or important background information regarding their children as they wish to protect their family’s privacy or self- interests, whatever they may be. The narrative also provides incomplete information as I want the reader to come up with their own interpretation of what was driving Josiah’s behavior. This forces the reader to bring to bear and reflect on their own experiences with students they have known in the past. Finally, I want to reader to wrestle with the riddle of this student’s life, which is what teachers and school staff must do every day as they work with the students in their classrooms.
I need to share a few additional notes for the reader regarding the protagonist Sam
Sullivan. First, you’ll notice that she is referred almost exclusively by her first name in the story, even when it appears unnatural or awkward. First names are personal and referencing Sam by her first name provides a greater intimacy with this character. I want the reader to experience Sam on a personal level and removing the moniker of “Ms.
Sullivan” may allow the reader to more easily walk in her shoes. But it’s even more important to remember our main character “Sam” is also a first year teacher. As such, in this world, she hasn’t been afforded the respect of the title of Ms. Sullivan, by her colleagues, parents, and even sometimes her students. As the year unfolds, she begins to lose more and more of the recognition of her professional expertise and subsequently, her title. Additionally, Sam Sullivan struggles to find her identity within that title, feeling
58 stripped of her ability to employ her professional skills due to the variables that arise within her classroom.
Although Sam is the protagonist, I have written this story about a composite student with the ED designation. I selected the name Josiah as it is my middle name.
Rather than some distant entity, I wanted to make this child immediately personal and develop an indelible connection to him that would remain with me long after the completion of this research study. By choosing Josiah as the child’s name, I will not be able to outlive the ghost this character inhabits in my own professional life. I want
Josiah’s story and the story of the real students I have worked with to continue pressing into and evolving my own personal praxis.
As you consider the events of this story, the reader should understand that the story is not meant to serve as a template for best practice or condemnation for poor practice. Rather, I want this narrative to provide a universal example of a story that other educators and teachers can relate to. The reader may find that there are obvious missteps that occur on the part of characters within the story as they work to educate Josiah. You will likely encounter some character actions that you will find to be inappropriate, short- sighted, or naïve. Despite their missteps, I hope you find the main characters to be dedicated educators who are doing their best with the knowledge and skills they have, including the principal Mr. Frey. Additionally, I also feel a great sense of sympathy for the parent, Mrs. Robb, as she finds herself in an incredibly difficult situation with no clear answers. In fact, all the characters are trapped in a tangled web of circumstances with no clear exits or solutions. Readers will of course draw their own conclusions, but I think all the characters have the best intentions for Josiah.
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Honestly, there are some disturbing scenes within the story which include acts of violence, aggression, student injury, and trauma. If you haven’t stepped into a public school in a while, this may feel foreign or even exaggerated. The reader may even consider some of the plotting to be an attempt to over-sensationalize or hyperbolize student and staff behavior. Although Josiah’s case may be extreme in some circumstances, I don’t think what is written is an overdramatization or an unrealistic depiction of student behavior, especially children identified as ED. I have directly observed many of these behaviors in schools or else they have been recounted for me by other teachers and educators. My concern has been that I provide enough salient details of these student behaviors so that the narrative reflects reality.
Finally, all students are remarkably different. No two students identified as ED are alike. Josiah is unlike any other student placed in an alternative school setting in some ways, but in other respects, he is exactly the type of student who finds themselves looking from the outside in. That is to say, students placed in alternative settings possess their own unique life experiences that should be respected and acknowledged. I don’t want the reader to overgeneralize the Josiah character, but to begin making sense of the pressures placed on Sam, Josiah, and all the other stakeholders within the narrative.
Thank you for taking the time to read Oh, The Places You Will Go!
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August 1st of the Next School Year
Sam’s rust-colored Civic rattles down the highway as the sun slowly tears through the early morning fog. Traffic is mounting, but it’s certainly less congested than the chaos of her normal school commute. Sam opens the console next to her and fishes around for her knock-off aviator Ray Ban sunglasses. With one hand on the wheel, she mindlessly places the sunglasses on without taking her eyes off of the road. She happens a quick glance into the rearview mirror at her reflection. The sunglasses obscure her bright hazel eyes. The dashed yellow lines continue to race up and quickly fall behind the car as Sam plows down the highway. Wind whistles over the top of the driver’s side window and passes over the top of her dark wavy hair. Sam lowers her window another inch as the hot
August temperature begins to climb. Even though it was hot, Sam had stopped for a tall coffee doctored up with a healthy dose of artificial sweetener, cream, and spiked with an extra shot of espresso. Sam feels her mind become gradually more alert as the caffeine begins to course through her body.
Red lights flicker in front of Sam and she robotically taps the brake to slow down.
She looks in her rearview mirror and flips on a turn signal to indicate a change to the far left lane. She speeds up, impulsively hitting the gas to get around an oncoming semi in the lane to her right. As the nose of her car passes the backend of the semi, the semi begins to drift towards her. Sam smashes her foot on the brakes, swerving slightly as the semi driver lumbers into her lane. Precious gulps of coffee spill onto the stack of school papers she had laid on the driver’s side seat. Her eyes flash into her rearview mirror as she sees the car immediately behind her turning off into the breakdown lane to avoid a rear collision. Sam curses, accelerating back up to speed, now perfectly positioned
61 behind the dawdling semi. Glancing at her mirrors, Sam finds she was now sandwiched on all sides by cars, with the semi fully obscuring her view. Taking a deep, shaking breath, Sam continues to drift down the interstate, locked into the current flow of traffic.
As the miles stretch on, the familiar emotional claustrophobia steals over her mind. She tries to keep her thoughts away from her destination, but she can’t stop cycling through images of the past school year, which were about to be punctuated by one final encounter. Why had she promised to come? It wasn’t required. Sam was getting used to doing a lot of things that weren’t required, though…at least they shouldn’t be required, she thinks. Sam’s mind travels back to the impromptu meeting she had with her principal Mr. Frey last week. Mr. Frey’s email was a simple meeting invitation with a date and time listed, along with the subject line which read, “Plans for next year.” After receiving the email, Sam clicked on the “Accept” option for the meeting invitation. Her mind recycles through the meeting once again…
She enters the small cinder block office and sits down in front of Mr. Frey’s desk.
The overwhelming odor of Glade plugin wafts through the room…lavender and peach,
Sam decides. The office is painted off white, with framed artwork containing several educational quotes on the walls. Sam’s eyes drift up to the picture above Mr. Frey’s desk. The black cursive letters simply read, “What We Learn Becomes a Part of Who We
Are.” Next to the picture is a bulletin board with several photographs of smiling students in the classroom or at various school events. Sam didn’t recognize any of the children in the sun bleached photographs. Portraits of Mr. Frey and his wife are placed carefully on the desk. In one of the pictures, Mr. Frey is standing with a salmon-colored button up shirt wrapped around his thin frame. He stands with his arm around his wife in front of a
62 painted backdrop. Sam supposes the background was meant to represent mountain woods. The picture must have been at least a few years old, as Mr. Frey’s hair had not yet gone completely white. Sam couldn’t recall his wife’s name, but she wore a smile that only touched her mouth. Besides looking older, Mr. Frey is dressed the same today: a cobalt blue button up shirt with dark slacks and black loafers.
“Sam, thank you for coming in and making time for this meeting. I am sure you had a busy summer, but I think you’ll see how important it is that we have this discussion.” Lately, Mr. Frey always seemed to start their conversations with “thank you.” The “thank you” was then predictably followed up with a list of “requests.” Sam shifts self-consciously in the turquoise industrial cloth of her chair. She looks down at her jean shorts and pink blouse. Maybe I should have worn something more formal, she thinks. This makes me look…young.
“Sure, no problem,” Sam replies.
“Well, as you know I don’t spend much time out of my office, even during the summer months. What’s important to me is that we’re always meeting the needs of our students. I’ve spent a lot of time creating new specials schedules, hiring staff, and working with transportation on new and more efficient bus routes. You’d be amazed at how much time it takes to manage a school building.” He chuckles mirthlessly. “After spending 10 years in the classroom and another 15 in administration, it’s amazing how you pick up little tricks here and there to make the workflow more manageable.”
Sam is mindful of her face. Does she look like she’s paying attention? She carefully mimics the active listening skills she tries to teach in the classroom…eye contact, occasional head nods, and attempts to look contemplative.
63
Mr. Frey continues. “As you know Sam, the Foster Community School District is committed to academic excellence. And one way we know how well our students are performing is the state assessment results. As a third grade teacher, your data is especially scrutinized because you are responsible for preparing our students for these assessments. Failing to meet the assessment cutoff scores, of course, results in mandatory suspension based on the ICR law.”
Sam sighs. Of course, this conversation was coming. ICR or “I Can Read” was the state’s latest political effort to show a commitment to increasing academic rigor. The law requires that all third grade students pass the English Language Arts state assessment, or face mandatory subject or even possibly grade level retention. The nuances of the law were many, but the take home message for teachers was that students must pass the test or face the consequences. ICR happened to be the subject of one of
Sam’s first parent meetings as a teacher. The parent derided the school’s curriculum, upset about her child’s lack of growth. The parent sardonically stated that ICR must stand for “I Can’t Read” since their child had struggled with the district’s beginning of the year reading diagnostic assessment.
“I know you had some challenges in your classroom last school year. We helped you out and provided you with many resources to overcome these student issues.
But…well.” Mr. Frey takes a breath. “The results of the state assessments left a lot to be desired. Out of 28 students, only 20 of them passed the assessment.”
Rather than tensing, Sam allows the information to wash over her. Her face begins to burn. She then looks past Mr. Frey, centering her gaze on the corner of the picture frame that was directly behind his right ear. Despite her best efforts, she wipes
64 the corner of her eyes with the back of her index fingers. Well practiced, Mr. Frey passes the tissue box and plods on.
“I don’t want you to be too disheartened. Of course, the alternate assessments were administered, and all but one student was promoted to fourth grade.”
“Josiah?” Sam speaks his name before thinking.
“Josiah?” The corners of Mr. Frey’s mouth twitches. He pauses, looks down at his shoes for a moment and then looks directly at Sam. “He’s someone else’s problem now.” After a beat, Mr. Frey continues. “No, of course he didn’t pass. But I was referring to Mia. When we hired you last summer, we knew you had the potential to be a great teacher. I still feel that way. To help improve your performance, I had several things in mind for you, including…”
Sam looks down at her GPS and passes the exit that she would typically take to
Alfred Burrows Elementary School. She wishes her GPS was taking her back to her classroom as she cranes her neck, still trying to look around the semi positioned directly in front of her. She’s almost there now. Even though it’s hot, her palms are cold and sweaty. After some grinding of the gears, acceleration, and some quick braking, Sam is finally able to make it to the far right lane as she prepares to exit the highway. She inserts herself in front of a maroon minivan as she takes the exit. A right turn and then she immediately enters into an aged neighborhood. Sam doesn’t notice the dated chateau homes that line the street. She’s just focused on getting to the parking lot. If she had looked, she would have seen each house was distinguished by steeply pitched roofs, smooth stone walls, decorative gables, and wooden balconies. 50 years of economic
65 recessions and aggressive real estate landlords had created a sea of multi-family homes.
Even though it was the middle of the day, numerous shabbily dressed adults sat on the curb or meandered up and down the streets. Sam continues to stare forward, periodically checking her digital directions and leaning forward to check street signs. She’s close now. The veins on her hands pop as her grip tightens on the steering wheel.
Toward the end of the street, a large gothic structure shoots into view.
Surrounded by old overgrown trees, the sprawling building resembles a massive, but aged estate. The structure is at least five stories tall. The outside walls are red brick, with stone turrets on all four corners of the building. Along the turrets, cracks run up and down the brick and mortar. At the top of three of the four turrets, large bronze spires, now green with corrosion, reach out to touch the blue sky. Several of the upper stories appear no longer in use, with many of the windows now bricked in. A coach door, attached to the front of the building, marks a now unused main entrance, which is also boarded up.
What was once an expansive lawn is now a large parking lot comprised of a combination of gravel and asphalt. Sam pulls into the parking spot and passes a sign that reads “Saint
Jerome’s Orphanage” in plain, green script. Next to the words is the image of two silhouetted children reaching out with their hands, attempting to capture several green stenciled butterflies.
Sam’s teal car pulls into an open parking spot and she turns off the engine. Sam pauses, takes a deep breath and then…nothing. Her eyes fix on the glare of the sun that’s reflecting off the corner of her hood. Her breathing slows and she goes somewhere else.
A flood of memories pass through her mind, intrusive thoughts that she has worked hard to forget over the summer break. Eventually, her catatonia begins to recede, and she
66 wills herself to return to her surroundings. She looks at the clock on her cell phone. Time is passing and she has an appointment to keep. She made a promise and feels compelled to keep it. The car door slam shut and Sam hits the automatic lock on her key fob. She scans the right side of the building and finds another white and green letter sign that reads
“Main Entrance.” The entry is ground level, beset with large retrofit doors made of glass and metal. The glass is heavily tinted and Sam catches her full reflection as she walks up to the door. Dark wavy hair in natural curly ringlets, cheap sunglasses, two studded earrings, department store kakis, and a purple blouse. Sam’s mom used to say that she was fine featured: small nose, petite chin, and smallish cheekbones.
Sam reaches for the door handle and then notices a call button. She hits the button with her thumb and a loud unlocking clicks sounds. Sam steps into a large, tall neglected anteroom. Two beams of light shoot through a series of small rectangular windows from along the top of the left wall, highlighting millions of dust particles suspended in the air. A behemoth unlit brass chandelier hangs down from the two story ceiling. A growing, green patina obscures the delicate, branched ornamental features of what was once a stunning piece. Two large wooden columns, positioned midway through the room, stand serenely on the black and white checkered floor tiles. Scores and gouges mar the dark oak grains. The walls are covered with a shiny and trendy gray paint that’s out of character given the anachronistic architecture. In the center of the room is an ornate wooden staircase that leads to a landing and then branches off out of sight to the left and right. On the left side of the room is a long, antiquated rectangular desk coated with a veneer of cherry wood. Files and documents spill out over the desk, and some of
67 the documents lift slightly as the whir of an oscillating fan sounds in the corner. At the desk sits a large woman on the phone.
“You don’t tell me he’s late again….you know he can’t do that no more!” She pauses as a loud voice buzzes through the phone’s receiver. “Well, that’s up to him.”
More noise on the other end. Her voice begins to crescendo as she attempts to talk over the other voice. “Well, he’s just going to have to deal with it…yeah, well that’s what he said last time!” She listens some more and then slams the phone on the receiver and, to no one in particular says, “Can’t show up to work, then he can’t keep his job.” She looks up and then notices that she’s not alone.
“May I help you?” Her strong voice booms through the stale room. The woman has a round face and small deep set eyes. The skin beneath her chin wobbles as she speaks. She shifts her weight, and the chair supporting her frame squeaks in protest.
“Yes, my name is Sam. I have a…an appointment with Mrs. Harper?”
“Driver’s license?”
“Oh yes. Um, right here.” Sam opens her purse, retrieves her license, and hands it over to the woman. The woman places Sam’s ID on a small scanner, clicks a few buttons on her mouse, and a tag with Sam’s photo and a bar code spits out of the printer.
The woman places the tag on the table in front of Sam.
“Wear this, wherever you go…so we don’t have to call security on you.”
“Um…thank you. Where am I supposed to go?” Sam asks.
“She’ll be here for you in a hot minute.”
The woman begins typing something into the computer, signaling the end of the conversation. Sam retreats to one of the charcoal vinyl chairs on the other side of the
68 room. A white faced clock hangs on the wall behind the receptionist. The second hand ticks loudly. The clickety clack of the woman’s fingers on the keyboard and the sound of the fan combines into a discordant symphony as the minutes slip by. Sam stares at the time on her cell phone. She sighs. She looks again at the wall clock. She notices a spider crawling slowly across the floor, hurriedly moving it legs as it traverses the scuffed and chipped tiling. She puts her head back and closes her eyes.
“Sam?”
Sam looks up. A tall woman with rapidly graying hair, horn rimmed glasses, and a serious face had entered the room.
“Oh, yes. That’s me.”
“Thank you for coming. My name is Mrs. Harper. We’re through these doors over here.” Sam consciously engages her muscles, as the act of standing and walking are taking more brain power than usual. She obediently follows behind the woman. They begin to travel through the labyrinth of steps and stairwells. Steel pipes and external wire conduits run overhead through some of the hallways, yesteryears efforts to modernize the aged building.
“What do you know about St. Jerome’s?” the woman asks.
“Well, not much really,” Sam responds dutifully.
“Not many people do. Most people in the surrounding neighborhood think we still house children here in this facility, but the foster care system replaced the need for orphanages like St. Jerome’s years ago. We now provide students with behavioral health and learning opportunities. You’ll notice that classrooms have only five or six students each. This allows us to better individualize our teaching approaches…and manage
69 behavior. In the morning we provide instruction, teaching the same grade level standards you find in any public school. In the afternoons, we run our therapy groups. We run on a strict point system. The more points a student earns, the more privileges they are given.
A behavior infraction means the students loses points and privileges.”
The sound of their footfalls echoes off the walls as they reach the top story.
Somewhere off in the distance, Sam hears the sound of yelling, punctuated by several four letter words. Slightly out of breath Sam responds, “Does that seem to work?”
“It helps. But honestly, a lot of our children’s success depends on medication.
Most students here are on Medicaid. But that doesn’t mean they always have the meds they need. Even with medication, therapy, and a great deal of structure, it’s sometimes hard to make much headway for some of our students. But we do what we can. Oh, here we are.”
Sam and Mrs. Harper stop in front of a door. Mrs. Harper turns to Sam.
“How long do you think you’ll want to visit?”
“I’m…not sure,” Sam answers. She doesn’t know what else to say.
“Well, I’ll have his teacher call down when you’re ready to leave. It’s easy to get lost in the building here and a staff member is required to be with visitors at all times.”
Mrs. Harper stops in front of an opaque steel door with a narrow rectangular window cut into the top. A sign reads, “Welcome to Mrs. Roads 4th Grade Classroom!”
Mrs. Harper knocks on the door. The door is opened by a short, rotund middle aged man sporting a green polar shirt, blue jeans, and white tennis shoes. Behind him is a classroom filled with generic educational paraphernalia; inspirational posters, books and aged bookcases, a dim image of an educational game on the SMARTboard, and five
70 smaller student desks. Dirty tennis balls are wrapped around the feet of student chairs.
Two students are seated at a large, gothic wooden desk, playing a game of checkers with a slender woman who apparently is Mrs. Roads. Another student is seated at his desk, carefully completing a thick packet of academic work. A fourth student is not in the room. Finally, the last student is seated on the floor, his back against a wall and his arms wrapped around his knees.
The woman who might be Mrs. Roads looks up from the game of checkers. She has a kindly lived in face, framed by dark braided hair. “Josiah, look who’s here to see you.” The student on the floor looks up. Their eyes make contact. Recognition.
Some time later, Sam exits the main entrance of the building and tremulously reaches in her purse for her car keys. They fall on the ground. She shakily picks them up, unlocks the door, and steps into the car. Her forehead drops onto the steering wheel as tremoring breaths begin to erupt from her body. Sam feels the familiar sensation of tears begin to fall down her cheeks. The first tears are all that’s needed and the dam bursts open. Sobs come in waves now, and several minutes pass as pent up emotion fills Sam to the brim and continues to overflow.
Rationality slowly returns and her thoughts begin to race through the familiar scenes of this past school year. How did it come to this? Was there... was there a moment? A crucial moment where I could have acted differently? She reaches for a tissue with a shaking hand. She wipes away the tears, smearing the last of her mascara. A suffocating, heavy, tugging feeling begins to spread through her chest. She starts her car
71 and places the shifter in reverse. The gears grind once again and the car stalls. She slams the wheel with her hands and lets out a bitter, rueful scream.
72
April 10th: Four Months Earlier
Sam crosses the still parking lot as the first colors of dawn seep across the horizon. Her walk was brisk and deliberate, a purse in one hand and a large canvas bag slung over her shoulder. The high powered lights in the parking lot give her face a cloying, greenish hue. Sam reaches the double doors and fishes out the lanyard wrapped around her neck. She reaches over and places her ID badge on the scanner. The locks pop with a loud, mechanical sound and she swings open one of the large glass and metal doors.
Sam enters a long, wide and well lit hallway with acrylic rectangular fluorescent lights hovering from the ceiling. Chocolate colored, vinyl tile stretches up and down the hallway in all directions. Sam efficiently passes down the hallway, scarcely acknowledging the student artwork on the walls, bulletin boards, or the mobiles hanging from the ceiling. Sam takes a left and turns down another hallway and steps across a series of large decals on the floor in front of her classroom. Sam had printed, laminated, and attached the small superhero decals in a circular arrangement in the hallway right outside her door. Although the stickers had held up pretty well, given the hustle and bustle of an elementary school hallway, the Incredible Hulk decal had been badly marred by what looked like black pools of ink. Sam approaches her door and inserts the key into the lock. The door is covered by a series of 29 hot air balloons, each with a student’s name inside. Large letters cut out of blue, yellow, and green construction paper are plastered to the door, “Welcome to Ms. Sullivan’s Classroom!” and “Oh! The Places You
Will Go!” Several letters from her name were drooping or else crumpled.
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Sam unlocks the classroom door, steps in, flips on the light and places her bag on her gray, double pedestaled desk. She takes out her laptop from the canvas bag and plugs in the mouse and power cord. The digital clock on her desk reads 7:10 a.m. Already behind. She sits down in a hand-me-down black upholstered chair and hits the laptop’s power button. The screen obediently lights up. Numerous emails had arrived in her beleaguered inbox overnight. Seventeen new messages. Sam quickly clicks through and deletes the irrelevant announcements, marks a few important dates in her calendar, responds to a parent’s question about next week’s field trip, and deletes a few additional emails that appear to be spam. She then sees one last final email from Mia’s parents.
The subject line reads: “Extra Help.” Mr. Frey is also CCed on the email.
Sam,
We appreciate all that you have done this year to help Mia as she has faced innumerable challenges with her anxiety, not to mention the dynamics of your classroom.
We know that you’ve had your hands full with other students this year, but we feel that
Mia has fallen through the cracks. Although we were hopeful when this year began that
Mia would blossom, her placement in your classroom has caused a major increase in her anxiety and has been detrimental for everyone involved. We’re hoping that you might now be able to provide Mia with additional support, assistance, and accommodations in your class for the duration of the year. Additionally, we have requested a meeting with
Mr. Frey to discuss our concerns with how students with mental health issues are treated in the Foster School District. Students have a right to a safe learning environment, and we feel the staff needs further training with how to educate all students. Again, thank you
74 for all your efforts this school year as we look to provide Mia with the learning experience she deserves.
Sincerely,
Mr. and Mrs. Williams
The letter hits home with Sam. Her face grows hot and her conscience begins to fray once again. Mia is a small, gentle child with wispy sand colored hair. Her soft smile is sun warm and sweet, lighting up her pale complexion. Sam would have once described her ocean blue eyes as bright, but they had dulled as the year progressed. Mia likes dolls and unicorns and plays soccer. Snatches of song often come from her lips when she is thinking especially hard. Sam’s mind flashes to an image with Mia curled up on the floor of the classroom, hands covering her ears, and loud howls of pain emanating from her normally soft features. Sounds of other students yelling and crying make their familiar intrusion into her mind. She pushes away the toxic thoughts and sensations. She doesn’t have time to deal with herself right now. Students are coming and there’s too much to do.
Sam begins to type a “thank you” response to the parents with a promise to follow up later in the day with a phone call. As her fingers fly across the keyboard, a chime sounds and another email notification pops up at the bottom left of her screen. Mr. Frey has scheduled a meeting during Sam’s planning period. Subject: Mia Williams. She clicks accept and then sends a quick text message to her brother.
Hey Charlie, I’m gonna be tied up after school today. Raincheck?
Sam looks at the clock at the bottom of her screen, which reads 7:35 a.m. She grabs a workbook from her bag and flies over to the copy room across the hall. Another teacher had already punched in a massive copy job, but was no longer in the small
75 workroom. Another parent email hits Sam’s phone. Noah is sick and the parent needs make up work. Sam punches in a response, and hits send, just as the copier comes to a halt. Sam takes the other teacher’s thick stack of packets and places it on the table next to the copier. She puts her own job on the copier and enters in 29 copies. Just before she pushes the green start button, she hesitates. She then punches in 28…just 28 she reminds herself. She hits the start button and hears the familiar hum of the machine. The laser flashes beneath the lid of the copier and worksheets begin to rapidly shoot out.
Sam returns to the classroom carrying the morning work for students. The sun is now spilling across the room, illuminating the off-white cinder block walls. Five or six small, blue plastic chairs are neatly pushed into five short tables with wooden veneer tops. Numerous well stocked bookshelves run along two of the walls. A kidney shaped table is positioned at the back of the classroom, Sam’s workplace for small group or individualized instruction. Along another side of the room is a sink with a drinking fountain and a laminate counter space littered with various plastic drawers, cubbies, and paper bins. Sam connects her laptop into a port and the large interactive whiteboard screen now reflects her desktop. She looks at the clock. It now reads 7:49 a.m.
Sam hurriedly places worksheets on each student’s workspace. Each table has a series of five or six laminated name tags. On the tag was the student’s first and last name, a cursive alphabet, a numbers chart, and other quick academic references. She stops by a table next to her desk and reads the name: Josiah Robb. The laminated coating had been partially torn off the name tag several months ago. Sam wavers and then removes the name tag from the table. She studies the name tag and walks towards the
76 trash can. She hesitates once again, changes her mind, and then places the name tag in a desk drawer.
“What’s it going to be like to actually be able to teach today?” Sam’s moment of contemplation is broken. She smiles and looks toward the smirking, thin frame in the doorway. It’s Mrs. Sanders. Mrs. Sander’s rosy cheeks and contagious grin offset the years of care that hang under her deep set brown eyes. Her hair is wavy and graying, cut short to make time for more important things. It was the corners of her mouth and the crow’s feet around her eyes that hint at a witty spunk, honed by experience.
“Hey right, no kidding….um….How’s the curriculum adoption going? I heard you had another meeting yesterday?”
“Waste of time,” Mrs. Sanders responds. “I can’t believe they want teachers to teach math using those videos.”
“Really?” Sam replies. “I mean, we’re already using Math Cat and a whole bunch of other computer programs with the netbooks already.”
“Like I said, they’ve got to teacher proof our teaching! ‘A teacher who won’t use a computer in the classroom is like a ditch digger who won’t learn to use a steam shovel,’ or so the saying goes.”
“That’s crazy!” Sam exclaims. She sighs, but then immediately plasters a smile on her face. “Well, I’m glad that you’re on the committee. You can tell them what’s what! They need the perspective of an intervention specialist like you.”
Mrs. Sanders cocks her head a bit, pauses, and gives Sam a penetrating look.
“Hey, I know we got to go, but…are you doing okay? It’s been really rough…for both of us.” Sam’s eyes shift from Mrs. Sander’s eyes and begins to slowly drift toward
77 the ceiling. Her breathing quickens and she becomes overly aware of how she is standing. Sam opens her mouth as if to answer, but the clock catches her eyes. It’s 7:55 a.m. She mutters something about bus duty, puts on a smile, and exits the room.
Several minutes later students enter, a buzz of small voices reverberate around the classroom as jackets and overstuffed backpacks are rapidly hung. Kyle drags his shoes across the floor, thrilling at the loud squeaks. Lilly chatters with Willa. Her dog had puppies last night and her parents are desperately searching for a new home for the litter.
Malik does a little dance, his arms outstretched, hopping on one foot. For three minutes the classroom is a barely contained cacophony of rollicking children. Sam begins to direct traffic:
“Toby, you can’t go to the bathroom 25 times today, okay?”
“Jada, we’ll find it later.”
“Noah, please use kind words.”
“I’m not sure Liam, let’s figure that one out later.”
The class reaches a crescendo of excitement.
Sam calls out in a loud voice, “Tootsie roll, lollipop…” In midstream of hanging coats, standing by desks, papers flying, the students instantly freeze and respond in unison:
“We were talking, now let’s stop!” And the class begins to come to order, although the occasional giggle or whisper can be heard. Sam presses on.
“Okay class, we have a great day of learning in front of us. Let’s quietly take our seats and start our Morning Work.”
By 8:15 a.m., the classroom is has been completely transformed. The students are
78 engrossed in the worksheet in front of them. Sam dutifully enters attendance online and begins asking students if they’re packing or buying their lunch.
“Sophia, packing or buying?”
“Packing, I don’t like chicken nuggets.”
“Kyle, packing or buying...Gracie, packing or buying…Aiden? Packing or buying?”
Halfway through lunch count, Mia raises her hand.
“Where’s Josiah? He wasn’t here yesterday and he wasn’t on the bus.” Her blue eyes look at Sam cautiously.
“I was going to talk with you all about that after we take the lunch count, but…we may as well talk about it now.” Sam apprehensively stands up from her desk chair, hesitates, and then decides to sit on the corner of her desk in hopes of looking casual.
“Josiah is going to another school right now.”
“Is he coming back? Why did he leave?” Lines spread across Liam’s forehead as he inquires.
“His family thought that this other school would work best for Josiah,” Sam blanches at the white lie.
“Is he going to come back?” asks Gracie, concern in her voice.
“I don’t think he will be coming back this school year,” Sam answers.
“Ever?” Mia asks.
“I can’t answer that…but not this school year.”
“I hated Josiah,” Liam whispers audibly.
79
“Yeah, remember he hit me in the eye.” Malik sounds off. “My Dad was so pissed off! We all hate him.”
Sam interjects. “Okay, Malik let not say the ‘p’ word in the classroom. Class,
‘hate’ is a pretty strong word. We all feel emotions at times. It’s okay to feel sadness and anger. It’s something we have all felt this year. But saying that we ‘hate someone’ is damaging. The effects of the words last longer than just a day or two.” Sam surveys the class, looking for acknowledgment and then continues. “Just like a knife, the word ‘hate’ can hurt. It also hurts us when we tell someone we hate them. It might feel good or even needed at the moment, but eventually, we begin to feel bad inside. Does that make sense?” The class considers her words and Sam sees a few head nods.
“Let’s finish lunch count and we can get started with the rest of our day.”
Five minutes pass and Sam is almost finished entering attendance on her laptop. She sees movement out of the corner of her eye. It’s Mia and she’s standing at the opposite end of her desk. Her bulbous eyes focused on Sam like a laser.
“Hi Mia, what do you need?” Mia comes around the desk and stops just short of
Sam.
Mia’s speech is light and wispy, just like her hair. She’s so quiet now, her voice barely makes it across her desk. Her intense, blue eyes begin to glisten.
“I know you said that we shouldn’t say we hate people. But, I just wanted to let you know…I never want to see Josiah again. I’m glad he’s gone. He made me feel so bad…he hurt me. I really……I really hate him.” Sam opens her mouth to speak and then closes it. Tears are streaming down Mia’s face. Sam hesitates, looks at the other students, oblivious, and decides. She hugs Mia. Tears are now flowing down both their
80 faces and they both begin to slowly sway.
“I know sweetheart…I know.”
The students continue to work, oblivious. The clock reads 8:25 a.m.
* * *
“I’m glad for your sake that he’s gone. Finally off to where he belongs…you know, where they can take care of his needs.”
Sam sits in a small room huddled with several teachers at a large, round table and several plastic upholstered chairs. The smell of microwaved meat and salad dressing permeates the air, barely concealing the odor coming from the whirling laminator in the corner of the room. Sam slowly spoons chicken noodle soup to her mouth and reaches for the salt on the table. A bit more pepper as well. She looks up from her soup and gives
Mr. Davies a small nod and a wand smile. Mr. Davies was a barrel chested man with bushy, gray eyebrows. Thick glasses perch across his broad nose, which complemented his ruddy complexion. Mr. Davies had been a mainstay at Alfred Burrows, having taught fourth grade for over 30 years. Mr. Davies continues talking, taking big bites of his peanut butter and jelly on white bread as he goes.
“You know, it’s a real shame that they made you take on Josiah as a first year teacher. A total administrative oversight. Typical, though. I’m not sure what parents are doing these days, but I know things have gotten a lot worse. I mean, it's a lot different than when I started. All those years ago, society was different. Kids were different. You asked them to sit down, they would sit down. If I had a problem with a kid, all I had to
81 do was call home and talk to mom and dad. I’d get them on my side and the kid would shape up. Now, I call home and the parents tell me that I need to change my teaching and be more aware of their kid’s anxiety or whatever…I just wish they would have given you a bit more time before throwing you to the wolves.”
Sam waits for Mr. Davies to continue and Mr. Davies waits for Sam to respond.
A brief and awkward silence ensues. Sam breaks eye contact and continues ladling the soup to her mouth. Other conversations around the table continue unaware. Mr. Davies takes a long look at Sam. He begins again. He laces his voice with compassion and speaks in a whisper. His message is just for Sam’s ears alone.
“This isn’t your fault Sam. This thing with Josiah started way before he came to your classroom. His family is his family: highly dysfunctional. You tried absolutely everything you could. There was nothing more that you could do. We all felt he needed to go. It was inevitable. You’re an amazing teacher, no matter what anyone says.
You’ve got to believe it. Don’t let anyone take that away from you, no matter what their position is. I know you feel like you need to take the blame for this, but you can’t… and shouldn’t. You have to dance with the living, and that’s the students in your room right now. Now you can finally teach them and have the year you wanted….what’s left of it.
Josiah, he just didn’t belong here. He was a liability to our school and a liability to your career. You gave him so much, and he wouldn’t or couldn’t take advantage of all your help.”
Mr. Davies takes a breath after he finishes his speech. Sam’s soup bowl is empty now. Her breaths are shallow. Her insides are cold and numb despite the hot soup.
82
“Thanks. I just don’t…know what to say I guess. I’m just trying to take it all in right now.” Another long pause.
“How’s Mia doing?” Mr. Davies asks.
* * *
“Mr. Frey, I’m not sure how to answer that,” Sam answers.
Sam is sitting in Mr. Frey’s office once again in what has become her assigned seat. Sam hates this chair. She hates the view from the chair. She looks at the faded pictures of students on the bulletin board. For some reason, looking at their faces helps her to momentarily manage the soft panic that was bubbling in her stomach. She looks back at Mr. Frey. His features are carefully arranged, but his eyes appear sharp and maybe even accusing. Mr. Frey reclines in his chair behind his desk, but a flood of frustration quickly travels the distance to Sam.
“What I am asking you, is to tell me how you have supported Mia this year? She clearly has issues, and now you’re telling me that you may have overlooked her…?” He continues matter of fact. “Mia’s father is president of the school’s foundation. Do you know that they were the ones that raised money for the books in the media center and our netbook carts? I have to be able to assure them that we have supported their daughter’s needs and that we can also meet the emotional needs of other children in our building.
But now you’re telling me…that you weren’t aware of her needs?”
Mr. Frey’s face remains neutral, but the words are cutting. Sam feels like the oxygen is beginning to evaporate from the room. She feels a palpable sense of panic.
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She controls her breathing, swallows, clears her throat, gathers her thoughts, and then proceeds to answer.
“It’s not that I have been unaware of Mia’s needs,” she starts with a slight wobble in her voice. She clears her throat and starts again. “I’ve done everything I can think of to help her cope in the classroom. We’ve worked on taking deep belly breaths…and I’ve allowed her to take reading breaks on the beanbag when I could tell she was getting overwhelmed. She reads beautifully in class. But, I didn’t think to schedule another meeting with the parents to further discuss her needs or develop a written plan. I did mention it to them during conferences, but…”
Mr. Frey’s voice is low in volume, but his cadence quickens. “You are responsible for the students in your classroom. You can’t ignore the needs of students like this.”
She was on the brink now.
“I haven’t ign-” Sam begins, but is cut off with a wave of Mr. Frey’s hand. He looks like he’s working hard to exert a degree of self-control as he takes a deep breath.
“Sam, I’ve given you resources to help you find success as a first year teacher. I know we’ve had some significant events in your classroom this year. I know that. We’ll just have to figure out a way to help you to be more on top of these things.”
“Mr. Frey, I don’t know what else I could have done…but so much of my time has gone to Josiah, and I-”
Mr. Frey interjects again. “Yes, I know. These parents are well aware of Josiah.
Everyone is. I’m certainly not going to bring his name into this conversation. In the
84 future, I just need more communication. I need to be made aware of student issues earlier, so we can get ahead of them.”
Sam looks at her feet, closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, bites her lip, and tries to reestablish eye contact with Mr. Frey once again. Mr. Frey continues to talk. He’s trying to rebuild rapport. He provides her with some further suggestions for how to handle things in the future. She nods and writes down some notes. She steals a look at the faded photographs of students on the wall, the smiles and grins of students long gone.
She looks towards Mr. Frey once again, nods agreement with another point that Mr. Frey is making, and writes something else down. She then briefly peers at the children.
Smiling faces…
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March 31st
A long wooden colored conference table runs through the center of a small room with blue industrial carpeting. On one end of the conference room hangs a whiteboard with stray brown and green marks that had successfully escaped the eraser. A flat, black screened television hangs from the wall and a large industrial paper shredder is positioned directly beneath it. Framed artwork created by students from the high school cover the taupe colored walls. Although the room is lit with several fluorescent lights, the gray afternoon March light leaves the room feeling gray and washed out. Sam enters the room and sits on one of the green, rough upholstered chairs. She then changes her seat to the opposite side of the room. She wants to be able to watch the analog clock hanging over the door. Sam supposes it’s her futile attempt to feel some degree of control with what was about to happen.
This isn’t Sam’s first IEP meeting as a fully certified teacher. As she waits, Sam sees Kylee’s mother sitting at the head of the table. Kylee’s mom had brought in donuts and coffee for the team as a token of her appreciation for their efforts. Kylee’s mom disappears and is replaced with Michelle’s mother and a tissue box. Sam smiles briefly as she sees the pile of used tissues that had spawned across the table in front of
Michelle’s mother. In between lots of eye dabbing and nose blowing, Sam hears her mom return over and over to the simple refrain of “thank you.” This meeting is unequivocally going to be different. First, the cast of characters is expanded. For the other two meetings, it was Sam, Mr. Frey, Mrs. Sanders, and just the parent. For this meeting, Dr. Higgins from Central Office would be joining the IEP team. Dr. Higgins held the auspicious title of Director of Special Education and Sam had only met her once
86 at the new staff orientation back in August. Mrs. Sanders and Dr. Higgins enter the conference room a few minutes after Sam, with the solemnity of a funeral parlor. Dr.
Higgins is an imposing personality with no time for small talk. Her short, auburn red hair is obviously colored, given the quarter inch of white roots running up and down her part in the middle of her scalp. She wears dark bifocals and a carefully constructed smile.
“If you’re going to speak at this meeting, you need it to be factual. Just provide data,” Dr. Higgins is no-nonsense and to the point. “We’re not going to be talking about your opinions or personal anecdotes. We want this resolved today, and we need to make sure we walk out of the meeting with the outcome and signatures we need…are there any questions?” Sam doesn’t dare ask a question. Mr. Frey enters the room and sits down next to Dr. Higgins.
“Hi Kara, thanks for being here,” he says. “This has been a long time coming and
I’m glad we’re finally able to get this scheduled.”
After an awkward moment of silence, Josiah’s mother enters the room, followed by another woman. Josiah’s mother is a slender woman with wavy dark hair, a narrow nose, and dark eyes. Her face seems to be a stranger to the sun. Sam wonders again about her age. She looks older today. Sam decides her eyes are even more puffy and dark than normal. The other middle age woman is dressed in a blue blazer and a white blouse. She sports short bobbed hair which offsets her stony, non-emotive eyes. They both sit down across the table from Sam and Mrs. Sanders. Mrs. Sanders opens a file folder and begins to organize copies of the IEP document.
“It’s nice to see you,” Sam greets Josiah’s mother, not knowing what else to say.
Mrs. Sanders smiles up at Mrs. Robb and gives a similar greeting.
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Josiah’s mother barely registers their remarks with a grunt. Sam’s mind flashes to
Josiah’s grunting in the classroom…fingernails scratching deep into his face as he sat at his desk.
The silence in the room begins to form into a tangible presence, feeding into a sense of dread and tension for Sam. Mrs. Sanders looks up and nods to Mr. Frey to signal that she’s ready. Mr. Frey clears his throat, smiles, and begins the meeting.
“Let’s do some introductions before we get started, since we have some new faces here. I’m Mr. Frey and I’m the building principal. I’ve been here for a number of years….” he drones on and eventually gets to, “Thank you both for coming in. I saw that you brought in Josiah as well. We missed him today at school. But, he’ll be fine with our building secretary.” A sliver of doubt is unmistakable in his voice, despite his efforts.
Dr. Higgins, Sam, and Mrs. Sanders all introduce themselves in turn. It’s Josiah’s mother’s turn. She pulls out a paper and begins to read.
“I’m Josiah’s mother. And this…” she pulls out a framed photograph of Josiah and places it in front of her, “…is my son. He’s just nine years old this last month. I want you all to remember that we’re talking about a person here, a child. I think you all lose sight of that sometimes. He enjoys playing Legos and wants to work construction when he grows up. He has dreams and aspirations and should be treated with respect. I’m going to leave this picture here on the table so that you don’t forget who he is while we’re making…decisions. And this is the advocate I’ve had to find to make sure my child gets a fighting chance for the education he deserves.” She puts her paper aside and continues.
“It’s been a rough time for Josiah. That’s why I pulled Josiah out of school today. We
88 went to McDonald's and then to the movies. He needed a day off from all of…this,” gesturing at the individuals at the table.
As Josiah’s mother spoke, Sam shifts in her seat as she feels the weight of her words. She becomes mindful of her heart thumping in her chest. It was now time for the advocate’s introduction.
“My name is Thana Girdle and I have over 25 years of experience as an educator and lay advocate. I have a bachelor’s degree in Childhood Education from Noble
University and also earned my master’s degree in educational leadership. I believe that every child has potential and that can be uncovered with a deft touch. With the appropriate support and expectations, we know that children can achieve their full academic potential. Over the years, I’ve seen many children fail because the system fails them. I’m here at the request of Josiah’s family to ensure his educational needs are being met, his rights are being protected, and that he doesn’t fall through the cracks. I have reviewed the copy of the IEP sent to us and have several questions and suggestions for the team to consider.”
Sam’s heart is now pounding, thumping, and banging in her ears. Can the rest of the team hear it? Mrs. Sanders mutters a “nice to meet you” and hands out copies of the
IEP to each team member. Sam takes an unsteady breath and looks towards Mrs. Sanders as she begins to present the IEP. She watches Mrs. Sanders’s lips move as she references various parts of the document. Sam trains her eyes on the IEP document, hoping to look like she is carefully studying the document. However, she can’t concentrate. Her breathing is unsteady, and her heart is pounding hard enough to break a rib. Breathing
89 seems harder than normal. She looks up as there is now silence in the room. All eyes are on her now. She looks towards Mrs. Sanders who is speaking to her.
“Sam? Sam, could you tell us some of Josiah’s strengths?” It registers with Sam that this was the second time that Mrs. Sanders had asked the question.
“Oh yes, sorry,” Sam replies. “Uh…I think Josiah has a lot of good qualities.
He…uh…enjoys playing checkers and is actually quite good at it. Like his mom said, he likes building things with blocks or Legos, and also likes to play on the iPad. On good days, he also likes to work one-on-one with teachers. I… I saw some growth with his reading data earlier this year when he first started with us…,” she trails off.
Thana Girdle interjects, “Are you saying that his removal to the Safe Room for half of his day has had a detrimental effect on his achievement? I see that his reading data has declined since he is now only periodically in your classroom. I certainly think that indicates that more time is needed in the general education setting where he can receive high quality instruction.”
“Well, he’s not always present for direct instruction and practice because of his behavior,” Sam’s voice is now beginning to noticeably quaver. She hates that her voice betrays her.
“I imagine that since this team has taken away his right to receive instruction in the classroom that his behavior will continue to be disruptive,” Thana Girdle continues.
“I also notice that there was never an effort to pair Josiah with an aide to support his behavior. Doesn’t this seem like a natural next step in providing Josiah an opportunity to access the classroom and participate in learning opportunities with his peers? This would follow a continuum of services that are specified in IDEA.”
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“Thank you, Mrs. Girdle for your insights,” replies Dr. Higgins curtly. “We can talk about LRE when we reach that section of the IEP. Mrs. Sanders, can you please finish reviewing the IEP profile?”
The minutes tick by and the meeting continues on in much the same way. Mrs.
Sanders references something in the IEP and Mrs. Girdle voices a comment of dissent or levels questions to the IEP team. Sam hears some of it….How many times had Josiah been restrained this year? Was Mrs. Robb provided with written notification within the specified time period indicated in law? Can we please have another copy of these documents? Does the staff have the appropriate credentials and training for administering restraints? Why wasn’t a comprehensive evaluation completed to update his educational needs? Wouldn’t that have been helpful for a new student in your district and helped with developing a more appropriate IEP? What type of behavioral data does the team now have? Why didn’t the IEP team consider providing Josiah with an even more intensive intervention plan? Had the team considered the detrimental effects of suspension? Didn’t suspension likely further exasperate Josiah’s behavior? After all, it communicated that he was not wanted at this school. He likes staying home and finds suspensions rewarding…For each comment, Mr. Frey or Mrs. Sanders make attempts to answer. At other times, Dr. Higgins simply redirects the team to continue with the IEP or postpones the answer to those questions for another time.
Finally, it’s time to discuss LRE. Dr. Higgins makes the case. “Like Mr. Frey mentioned to you on the phone earlier this week, I’m not certain at this time that we can continue to provide the necessary support to ensure Josiah’s success here at school. We have provided him with several intensive behavior plans, which have all had minimal
91 results. Despite your assertions, Mrs. Girdle, we have provided Josiah with a continuum of placements. Each change in the behavior plan has resulted in the same disruptive behaviors. He has physically injured himself and other students on numerous occasions.
I think it’s time that we look at other placement options.”
This was the moment. Sam looks expectantly at Josiah’s mother. Her heart is in overdrive now.
“You’re telling me that you don’t want my Josiah here?” the voice was husky, thick, and laden with anger. “What other place are you suggesting?” It is more of an accusation, not a question.
Dr. Higgins continues, “There are alternative schools that are better equipped to take on a student like Josiah. We want the best for Josiah, and these schools are a better option than what we’re providing here. This placement will be, of course, paid for at district expense. An alternative school can provide a curriculum that is both therapeutic and designed to improve his behavior. They have a small teacher to student ratio. Those teachers are experienced with this type of case.”
“And what type of case is Josiah?” his mother asks, her raised voice cutting into the team like knives. “Because it sounds to me that you have all given up on him. You have a cookie cutter mold here at this school and you can’t handle a student with differences.” The more she talks the more her voice becomes raised and ragged, laced with an angry and bitter intensity. Sam feels her mouth go dry. Her heart continues its relentless thudding. Sam isn’t the only one in the room who feels the tension. Mr. Frey’s brow is furrowed and Mrs. Sanders’s pleasant face has been covered with concern. Only
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Mrs. Girdle and Dr. Higgins remain impassive, if not even a bit implacable. The meeting is reaching a crescendo.
“I’m not signing anything that takes Josiah out of this school!” His mother is shouting. Voices of concern can be heard outside of the conference room door, but quickly recede. “He has a right to be here, and there’s nothing you can do about it!”
Dr. Higgins interjects, still calm, measured and in control. “Mrs. Robb, this is going to happen. He will not be returning to this building. You have to see, this is in his best interest.”
“How do you know what’s in his best interest? Have you ever spoken to Josiah?
Could you even pick him out of a crowd without this picture I brought? This school is a joke.” Her last comment was more of a whimper of grief than an indictment. Dr.
Higgins again attempts to interject, but Thana Girdle breaks in.
“Josiah’s mother is prepared to take measures to ensure that Josiah is not removed from this school. If this team cannot come to a resolution that ensures Josiah’s educational needs are being met here at this building, then we are prepared to file-”
“Stop! No, we’re not going to do that,” Josiah’s mother interjects. Steely resolve in now set in her eyes. Thana Girdle’s opens her mouth as if she is going to continue and then thinks better of it. “If you all want Josiah out of here, then you need to tell him yourself!” His mother stands up, opens the door, and slams it behind her. The team, even Mrs. Girdle, remain speechless for a long moment. Mr. Frey stands up as if to go and check on Josiah’s mother, but she re-enters the room with Josiah at her heels. Mr.
Frey, Josiah, and his mother sit down all at the same time. Josiah’s eyes are big and round, darting around the room.
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“Tell him” his mother instigates. Silence in the room. “Go on, tell Josiah what your plan is for him.”
“Would you please reconsider this?” Dr. Higgins’ tone has changed. She’s pleading.
“Yes, we need to give some thought to-” Mrs. Girdle begins, but is again cut off by Mrs. Robb.
“I’ll tell him, since you all aren’t willing to step up. Josiah, they don’t want you to come back to this school anymore. They don’t think you fit in here. They’re going to send you away. Give me that pen.”
Josiah begins to cry. Sam’s heart breaks.
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March 17th
The gray gloom reaches in through the windows of Sam’s classroom, casting hues of gray and green on the walls. Beads of water cling to the windows and the midmorning rain continues to pour. The gray clouds and pervasive late winter rains reflect Sam’s mood…cold, slow, and frustrated. She had lost her planning period due to another meeting with Jada’s family to discuss changes in her mood and behavior as well as her declining grades. Several students arrived late due to “bus issues,” a hiccup that her class couldn’t seem to recover from at this point in the school year. Despite the meeting just minutes earlier, she was already planning on writing an office referral for Jada.
Sam’s voice was stern and tight…which is all she could muster today. “Jada, I’ve told you for the last time, you cannot use those words in the classroom. They are inappropriate and I will have to communicate that to your mom again. Please move your clip and stop talking to Willa.” Jada rolls her eyes and mutters something under her breath. As she stands to move her clip, Willa stifles a giggle and other classroom conversations resume.
“Tootsie roll, lollipop…” Sam calls out harshly.
“We were talking, now let’s stop!” Very unenthusiastic and only half the class provides a reply. The class continues to murmur, an undercurrent of white noise.
Someone is humming. Another laugh drifts through the air.
“Ava, thank you for sitting quietly. I see Liam and Gracie also sitting quietly, ready to learn.” The class still drones on in quiet chuckles and conversation. Sam presses on.
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“Okay class, you need to get your math folders. Groups one and two, please quietly get your folders from your cubbies. Groups three and four, please quietly get your netbooks from the cart. Group five, please just hold tight and I will dismiss you in a moment…” Students gradually stand up. Some playful pushing occurs and a water bottle hits the floor. The lid comes off and water splashes onto the tile. Sam runs over to the sink and pulls out several paper towels. She wipes up the spill, which triggers a new round of chattering and giggles.
Sam raises her voice, forcing her face to remain as unemotional as possible despite her growing feelings of anger. “Zoey, next time, please make sure your lid is on tight.” As she addresses Zoey, she sees several students retrieving both their folders and netbooks. “I said groups one and two for math folders…groups three and four do not have permission to get your math folders. You were asked to get your netbooks. Groups three and four, please return to your seats and sit down.” Sam’s voice is raised now. Her loud voice betrays her anger. “Obviously, we’re having a tough time following directions today. We have been working since August on how to quietly move about the classroom during transitions. Today, you all have evidently forgotten the lessons we learned earlier in the year. We can spend the rest of the day practicing our transitions to the cart and our cubbies, or we can actually start getting some math work done. It’s your choice.”
Sam surveys the class. Jada, Noah, and Liam look completely annoyed at the rest of the class. Mia stares at the wall. Several other students look at her apologetically, even a bit thunderstruck. A few remain oblivious and still, a couple of others continue to talk and fidget. Malik balances on the back legs of his chair, immune to her reprimand.
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He stares across the table at Toby, mischievous grins play on their faces, but they have stopped talking. Sam calls out the orders again for the class to retrieve their materials.
The students move like they’re walking through Jell-O, but they eventually are seated with the requested materials. This is not going well. Mr. Frey then enters the classroom with pen and paper, waves to the students, and sits down at Sam’s desk. Sam briefly flashes back to her meeting with Mr. Frey before school…
“As you know Sam, today’s observation is part of your first year teacher evaluation. According to district policy, I’m required to review the procedures of the preconference with you, although you already know the steps as they’re the same as last time. The preconference involves a series of questions from the district approved evaluation forms. As the administrator, I’m required to review the purpose of the lesson and help identify specific goals. These goals are for you as the teacher and goals that you set for the students. Let’s hear about the lesson you’ve prepared for me to see today.”
Sam starts to describe the math lesson she is going to teach. After a few moments,
Mr. Frey stops her with a wave of his hand and retrieves a pacing guide from his briefcase.
“Do you know that you are actually three weeks behind with math instruction?”
His eyes pierce with equal parts surprise, concern, and accusation.
“Yes, I-I am aware of that. We have had a really difficult time with all the classroom disruptions. I am trying to catch the students up, but it’s been difficult given the challenges we’ve had with Josiah.”
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“But, he’s not even in here half the day…Sam, that’s not a good reason anymore.”
“I understand Mr. Frey, but we’ve had challenges with other student behavior as well as a result of Josiah. And the part of the day where Josiah is here is…very obviously difficult. I’ve been working with Mr. Davies to develop a plan to catch students up.”
“Sam, the state assessments are coming up here in four weeks…. four weeks!”
Mr. Frey’s forehead wrinkles, agitation covering his face. “How do you plan on fitting in all of that instruction in that amount of time?” He doesn’t wait for a response, but plows on, “I don’t think it’s possible. Do you know that the results of state assessments are available to the community? They will know exactly how your students performed.
Your reputation as a teacher will be tied to those results. What’s…your…plan?” His voice pierces. Sam realizes she doesn’t really have a workable plan. Not anymore.
Sam starts her math lesson and her observation begins. Surprisingly, the lesson starts as she had hoped. Sam begins her instruction by guiding students through a word problem projected on the digital whiteboard. As the class discusses the problem, Sam questions, corrects, clarifies, and addresses the hands as they shoot into the air. She provides students with another problem to complete independently. Sam then walks around the room and checks to make sure the students are on track. After checking with each student, she addresses the class.
“Do you understand what you are doing? Give me a thumbs up when you solve the problem.” Approximately half the class provides Sam with a thumbs up. Sam solicits questions, clarifies, and then presents another problem on the whiteboard. As
98 students work, Sam asks Malik to put away a fidget spinner that had momentarily captured the attention of his desk mates. After a brief amount of time, Sam asks the students what equation should be written, based on the word problem. About 75% of students raised their hands. The class is engaged. Mr. Frey scribbles furiously in the back of the room, his gaze constantly on Sam or the notepad in front of him. Things are clicking. Sam continues her instruction, modeling, explaining, describing, and then combining her presentation with questions directed at the students to check for understanding. Sam turns to Gracie, “Do you know where we’re at? We’re right here,” and she pointed on the page. Gracie shakes her head in acknowledgment. Sam walks the classroom, checking on student work, “Help her out Anika” or “You’re right, 64 is the answer, but how did you get there? What did you do first, Willa?” During another visual check of student progress, she prompts Noah to sit down as she walked by, gently placing her hand on his shoulder. Noah smiles at her and complies. Towards the end of the independent practice, students who had finished begin to whisper. Sam again brings the class back with another rendition of “Lollipop.”
At this point, the day flips on its head. A huge scream erupts from just outside the classroom door. The students in the room are suddenly silent, their eyes glued on Sam.
“Everyone, please turn to page 189 and try practice item A. I will be right back.” Sam leaves the classroom and enters the hallway and is greeted by another scream, this one pierces through her whole body. The familiar adrenaline begins to pour through her system. Sam takes in the scene. Up and down the hallway, random students scamper into their classrooms and several doors slam shut. They’re used to the drill. Sam sees
Josiah laying stomach down on the floor, his arms and legs splayed out at his side. Mrs.
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Sanders is crouched next to him. Another scream pours from Josiah’s lips, a sound of anguish. This has all happened before. But, this seems more intense. He has an ink pen in one of his hands and is stabbing it with force at one of the decals on the hallway floor.
With another thrust, the pen splits open. Mrs. Sanders continues to speak to Josiah in quiet, consoling tones as the ink pours out over his hand and onto the floor. Mr. Frey follows behind Sam and takes in the scene.
“You need to get him out of the hallway, now!” Mr. Frey barks.
Mrs. Sanders doesn’t acknowledge his order, but continues to speak to Josiah.
“Josiah, I know you’re angry. You have every right to be. Let’s go back to the
Quiet Room and we can spend some time on the bean bag chair….Josiah….Josiah can you hear me?”
Josiah continues the relentless stabbing at the floor. He’s directing his efforts towards the Hulk decal. The ink continues to splatter over the decal and onto Josiah’s clothing and face.
“Josiah, get up…now!” Mr. Frey tries to use an even more commanding voice.
Josiah responds with another beastly, guttural scream. The hallway begins to take on a personality of its own. It seems frozen, possessed with a dangerous and unsettling force.
Sam feels like she can sense the combined strained emotions of every student and staff member in the school. Sam approaches Josiah from the side, careful to not startle him.
She uses a low, calm voice to steady herself as much as to calm Josiah. Despite her efforts, her voice waivers.
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“Josiah, if you stand up and walk with me quietly, we can then play a game of checkers after you settle down.” Josiah ignores her. Mr. Frey pushes past Sam, stands over top of Josiah and raises his voice-
“Josiah, this is enough. Get up and get over to the Quiet Room.” Surprisingly,
Josiah stands up. His face is a mess of tears and ink. His eyes flash wildly towards Mr.
Frey. He takes the pen into his right hand and, with one fluid motion, attempts to thrust the pen into Mr. Frey’s midsection. He catches Mr. Frey completely off-guard and the tip of the pen slams home. Mr. Frey’s momentary surprise quickly dissipates. Veins bulging in his neck, he quickly grabs Josiah in a reverse bear hug. Josiah howls as if in great pain, kicks up his legs straight out in front of him and then attempts to sink directly into the floor. Mr. Frey lifts him up again, still maintaining the bear hug, yelling at
Josiah to calm down. His walkie-talkie is hit in the commotion and clatters to the floor.
Josiah then lowers his head and sinks his teeth into Mr. Frey’s forearm. With a howl of pain, Mr. Frey lets go and Josiah sprints into Sam’s classroom.
The sound of Mr. Frey talking rapidly into his walkie-talkie buzzes as Sam and
Mrs. Sanders sprint into the classroom. But, Josiah is already at work, destroying the classroom. Students are talking, yelling, and running past Sam into the hallway. A few students have their backs against the wall opposite Josiah. Mia is on the floor with her hands over her ears, quietly crying. Josiah pauses the destruction and lets out another scream. His hands are clenched into fists and he howls at the remaining students…deep guttural cries. Tears pour down his cheeks…he’s in a complete, mindless rage. With a
Herculean effort, he takes a table and flips it over. Student books and papers spill out onto the floor. Another table flips over. Both Sam and Mrs. Sanders are momentarily
101 paralyzed. Students are yelling. Again, another table flips over. The primal screams continue, hitting Sam in waves. Josiah takes a framed picture of Sam’s mother from her desk and hurls it onto the floor. He then takes a netbook in both hands and, lifting it over his head, slams it against one of the classroom windows. The glass cracks.
Simultaneously, Sam and Mrs. Sanders’s momentary paralysis ends. They snap into action. Sam slowly makes her way around the classroom attempting to approach
Josiah from the side. Mrs. Sanders follows suit. Josiah stares back and forth, breathing hard and waiting. In a flurry, both Sam and Mrs. Sanders place Josiah into a restraint.
Miraculously, the restraint goes as planned and is executed with precision. With her arms wrapped around him, Sam can feel Josiah’s pulse racing in his wrist. Or is it her pulse?
Josiah struggles. After several moments, Mr. Frey enters the room with a few other staff members at the same time, Josiah’s body slackens. He breaks into sobs.
“Josiah, can you take a deep breath?” Mrs. Sanders asks. Josiah complies between his sobs. “Can you take two deep breaths?” He complies again. “Josiah, are you in control of your body?” A brief nod of the head. Mrs. Sanders and Sam look at each other, nod, and then release the restraint.
Fifteen minutes later, Sam is in her classroom. Some of the students are in the gym. The PE teacher canceled his other class at Mr. Frey’s request. A few have gone to visit the school counselor. Sam begins picking up the pencils, papers, and notebooks off the floor. A member of the maintenance crew is applying cardboard to the cracked classroom window. They both work in silence. Sam walks over to her canvass bag and reaches for her bottle of ibuprofen. The bottle is empty and she throws it away. Her eyes
102 land on the netbook Josiah had thrown. The screen is cracked, just like the window. She places the destroyed netbook on her classroom desk and stops to rub her temples. She then sees her math lesson plan on the floor. It’s ripped in half with what looks like a dirty footprint on top of it.
Mrs. Sanders enters the room, her eyes traveling from the window to the stack of papers and notebooks Sam had already organized. She sighs.
“Sam, let me help you.”
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February 2nd
The alarm sounds. Sam lifts her head off the pillow and blindly reaches for the cell phone as it continues to vibrate. The phone falls off the nightstand and Sam whispers a curse. Her legs are twisted up in a mess of sheets and blankets. She struggles to disentangle herself from the bedding and gropes around on the floor for her phone as it continues its relentless pulsating. Her hand finally finds its target and she shut off the alarm. Sam reaches for the lamp next to her bed and soft light floods into the room.
Sam sits up and places her feet on the cold laminate floor, readying herself to stand. However, she remains sitting. She hears a drip in the bathroom and a distant hum of a hair dryer as the rest of the apartment complex begins to wake up. Her eyes look past the pile of laundry on the floor, a stack of forgotten novels on the ground, and unpacked boxes scattered throughout the room. Her gaze travels to the window. The faux wood blinds are slightly disheveled, revealing cold crystals of ice that have encased the windows overnight. Minutes tick by and Sam continues to stare at the ice, her hands folded between her knees. The morning is full of sound. A shower shuts off, pipes rattle, a car starts up, a soft buzz of muffled conversation overhead, and the soft roar of a semi downshifting on the interstate weaves into a chorus of responsibilities and obligations: a relentless parade of sounds all urging Sam to stand and continue. Everyone else is continuing and so should she. With a sudden start, Sam stands up.
Sam walks into the bathroom, pulls back the shower curtain, and turns the knob.
The dripping stops. She then turns on the light. Two out of five bulbs flicker on. She grabs the last sliver of a teal bar of soap, scrubs, and splashes some water on her face.
She brushes her dark hair, rolls on some deodorant, and brushes her teeth. Sam rifles
104 through some of the clothes on the floor and finds a pair of slightly wrinkled navy blue slacks. She leaves the bathroom and slides back the closet door. A few blouses hang forlornly on wire hangers. Something in the closet should coordinate maybe…. maybe not. She grabs something, finishes dressing, and heads to the kitchenette. Sam opens the refrigerator. She curses. No milk…no breakfast. She searches her freezer and grabs something microwavable for lunch. She then opens the cabinet door and reaches overhead for a water bottle. Her hip hits something on the counter. That something falls and the sudden sound of glass shattering hits her ears. It’s a wine glass. Sam closes her eyes and takes a deep wavering breath.
After filling her water bottle from the tap, Sam grabs the cold cardboard box of lunch, steps over the scattered glass, and walks into the living room. She’ll get to the glass later. Next to the old white floral couch is a large canvas tote bag filled with worksheets, pencils, curriculum guides, her building badge, her laptop, and a host of work related odds and ends. She retrieves a bottle from the bottom of the bag and pops open the lid. She swallows a few ibuprofen and follows it with a water chaser. Sam then stuffs her lunch and water bottle in the bag. Seconds later she emerges from her apartment sporting a large, green puff coat. Sam locks her apartment door and walks down the interior stairs. She opens the door of her apartment complex and a stiff, brittle wind cuts through her. She hits the key fob and her car responds with a soft chirp. She steps into the car, turns the ignition, and pulls out. Time to get to school. After a few minutes, Sam slowly sinks into highway amnesia.
* * *
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Cars cram in front of Alfred Burrows School, coalescing into a cavalcade of steel and exhaust. Mr. Frey stands near the curb, his head encased in an ear warmer. He smiles and waves at each car as they creep across the drive through lane. Next to him stands Sam, greeting individual students as they patter up the sidewalk towards the school entrance. “Hi, Kyle,” “Welcome to school, Noah,” “Hi, Mia,” “Morning, Mara,” “Hi,
Piper.” The car doors open and close quickly as parents say their “Have a good day’s,”
“Don’t forget’s,” and “I love you’s.” Students march into school, passing by the frosted gardens and empty bike racks. The steady stream of cars begins to peter out, just as an armada of several yellow school busses emerge further down the street. The air bends and wavers near the heat of the diesel engines as the bus brigade approaches. Sam sees the buses, takes her cue, and walks down the sidewalk towards the back of the school where the buses park. Sam rounds the building and sees Mrs. Sanders and two other teachers, waiting to usher the students quickly into the building. Sam waves to her colleagues and they respond with hellos. Mrs. Sanders says a few words into the walkie- talkie and students begin to exit the busses. It’s cold, so the children are quick to exit and get into the building. That is, all children except for Josiah. Josiah is seated in the front row of the bus, but not directly behind the driver. Mrs. Sanders climbs into the bus and is followed by Sam. Mrs. Sanders greets Josiah.
“Hi, Josiah. Are you ready to start your day?” Josiah is staring out the window, beams of winter sunlight beginning to play across his face. His eyes are half-mast, a sure sign of trouble. Mrs. Sanders crouches near his seat, careful to position her body a couple of feet away from Josiah. She looks up again at his face and speaks in soft, careful tones. “Josiah, welcome to school, are you ready to get off the bus?” Josiah
106 jerkily looks over and spits at Mrs. Sanders. She grimaces and wipes the spittle from her face with a gloved hand. Sam pipes in.
“Josiah, can you take a few deep breaths for me?” He looks out the window.
“Josiah, I can’t wait to show you the superhero stickers I got for you over the weekend.
They’re in my classroom. Let’s walk to my room so you can see the stickers.” Josiah’s affect changes slightly. He appears to relax. Mrs. Sanders takes a wavering breath and reaches over to unbuckle him from the seat. The moment her hand touches the belt,
Josiah’s body tenses. He rapidly tries to slap her hand away from the buckle. Mrs.
Sanders looks at Sam.
“I don’t think he’s ready to come out.” Behind them, Sam hears the bus driver sigh. Sam tries again.
“Josiah, what did you do this weekend? Did you play your video game?” Josiah doesn’t respond. Sam tries again. “Josiah, can you tell me again about Miles Morales?
Tell me about what he does when he realizes he has superpowers. Isn’t that your favorite part of the movie?” Josiah looks at Sam, his face expressionless. “Josiah, is it okay if we get off the bus?” She waits. “Josiah, remember you get your Spiderman sticker if we can get off of the bus in the way we’ve practiced.” Mrs. Sanders looks at Sam and they both agree. Time to get off the bus.
Mrs. Sanders reaches for the buckle and Josiah’s body stiffens once again. As
Mrs. Sanders’s thumb hits the release button, the palm of Josiah’s hand makes swift contact with the side of her head. He then wails and begins to scream, his body jerking uncontrollably….rigid, slack, rigid, slack, rigid, slack. Sam mumbles something into the walkie-talkie and then is immediately next to Mrs. Sanders who is holding the side of her
107 head. “Are you okay?” She has to yell due to Josiah’s wails. Mrs. Sanders is still crouched. She looks up at Sam. Her eyes are watering, but she nods and motions to continue the process. Now a few additional feet away, Mrs. Sanders continues speaking to Josiah in soft, consoling tones. He is cursing at her, waving his arms in a windmill fashion. The bus driver stands up and rapidly makes his way back and stands behind
Sam.
“What can I do?” he asks.
“Nothing,” Sam replies.
* * *
“Well, he can’t ride the bus anymore,” says Mr. Frey. “We’ll have to arrange special transportation and reconvene his IEP team to make the necessary adjustments.”
Sam and Mrs. Sanders are gathered around the phone in Mr. Frey’s office for another mid-day meeting with Josiah’s mother on a conference call.
“Can you explain to me why he can’t ride the bus, just like all the other students?” she asks with a sharp edge to her voice.
“It’s because we can’t ensure his safety and the safety of others,” Mr. Frey answered. “His behavior today was even more extreme than what we’ve been encountering these past few weeks.”
“Did his teachers follow the plan? I know my son, and the things you’re describing…I just don’t think he’s capable of hitting another adult.”
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“Hi, this is Sam. Yes, we did follow the plan. As you recall, we had arranged for
Mrs. Sanders and me to both be present when Josiah exits the bus. We provided him a greeting and a prompt for him to exit the bus. We used calm, neutral tones. I reminded him that he can earn a superhero sticker once he successfully exits the bus. We then walk on either side of him as we enter the building.”
“Well, I don’t believe you. You must have done something to provoke him.
Look, when he’s at the school, he’s your responsibility. Isn’t that right, Mr. Frey?”
“Well, yes, that is correct,” Mr. Frey responds.
“And now you’re asking me to leave my job and pick him up? Don’t you know that’s exactly what he wants? He wants to be out of school, because you’ve made it a difficult place for him to be.”
“What we’re saying is that he is not ready to learn today,” Mr. Frey looks at his watch as he talks. “We think Josiah is not in the right mental space to benefit from instruction today. With how he came in today, he doesn’t seem to be ready to learn and I don’t want him to hurt himself or someone else while he’s here.”
“Well, it’s going to be a while until I get there. You’re going to just have to do your best to work with him until I can leave work.” Sam, Mr. Frey, and Mrs. Sanders give each other knowing looks.
“Thank you for taking our call,” Mr. Frey finishes up. “I need to get to another meeting, but I did want to make sure that you were planning on coming and picking up
Josiah as soon as you can.”
“Well, we’ll see.” Click.
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January 15th
Sam walks up the steps of her apartment with her teaching bag still slung over her shoulder. The sound of bass thuds somewhere down the hallway mingled with the smell of beef and cheese. She inserts the key, enters, closes and locks the door, and hangs up her coat. She takes off her shoes and then sits down on her hand-me-down couch. She takes a moment to close her eyes, resting her head back on the couch. Her phone buzzes. She sees that it’s Charlie. She lets it go to voicemail. A voice message pops up a few moments later.
Charlie’s concerned voice pops through the phone speakers: “Hey, Sis. You need to give me a call. I haven’t heard from you in a few weeks. I’m worried.”
She opens her bag, retrieves a binder full of papers and sets them next to her on the couch. She begins to read and grade a stack of student personal narratives. After about the fifth paper, she gives up. She can’t concentrate. She yawns, grabs her phone, and begins to scroll through her Instagram feed. Her phone sounds again. It’s Charlie again. She ignores it. A text message pops up about 15 minutes later:
Charlie: “You doing okay?”
Sam responds: “I’m fine.”
Charlie: “I called earlier. Left a message. You didn’t pick up.”
Sam: “It was another rough day.”
Charlie: “Oh man, that sucks. Did they get you that aide yet?”
Sam: “No, I’m not sure that’s going to happen.”
Charlie: “You know, this conversation might be easier on the phone.”
Sam: “Sorry. Just really tired.”
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After about a minute, Charlie texts again:
Charlie: “Seriously, are you doing okay?”
Sam: “Yeah. I’ll get the hang of this teaching thing soon enough.”
Charlie: “Sam, you’re an excellent teacher. You do amazing things for those students.”
Sam: “Thanks, Charlie.”
Charlie: “I’m here for you. Love you.”
Sam: “Love you. Night.”
She puts down her phone on the coffee table. She changes into sweats and makes herself a peanut butter sandwich for dinner. She sits down on the couch again to start grading and lesson planning. After 10 minutes, parent emails start to pop up:
“…can you explain what happened in your class today? Jada says there was some sort of incident again...”
Another one pops up:
“We know you can’t talk about other students, but what’s being done about this?
These things keep happening…
And yet another:
“He’s a menace. We know you are doing your best, but enough is enough…”
Sam begins responding:
“Thank you so much for your concern. Yes, we did have an incident with another student today. I’m sorry this happened, but I can assure you we are making every effort to meet the needs of all students in the classroom. I will forward your email to Mr.
Frey…”
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After the fourth email, she shuts the lid of the laptop. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She then turns on the television and selects a random Netflix movie.
Maybe a rom-com, she thinks. Sam’s apartment is now lit by the light of a movie she’s half watching. She has a hard time focusing. Another movie is beginning to take shape in her mind. A series of images begin to race through her head. Students’ faces, snippets of conversation with other teachers, and finally Josiah’s face. Sam feels the residual adrenaline kick in as she re-experiences the now familiar feeling of being out of control.
It’s a similar feeling that she had with her mom. A palpable sense of dread, mingled with feelings of confusion, compassion, and loss. The movie plays on in a set of discordant, intrusive images from another school day last week:
Josiah in the Safety Room on a bean bag. Soft, peaceful lights. The morning sun streaming through the windows of the placid room. Soothing music. Josiah plays with a slinky. He’s safe. She’s now in her classroom, working in a reading group with Kylee and Michelle. Now she’s teaching students how to use math manipulatives…the scene changes again to recess duty. She watches students chase, squeal, and laugh. Yet another scene change. Its midmorning and Josiah enters the classroom, escorted by Mrs.
Sanders. Mrs. Sanders gives Sam and Josiah smiles. Mrs. Sanders says he fell asleep after arrival, but now seems happy and calm. Sam greets him with a smile. Josiah sits down at his desk and begins completing a worksheet. Now it’s after lunch. Students have just returned from recess and are hanging coats up. Typical commotion. Sam is tying
Jaden’s shoes as students transition into the room. Then it starts. She hears a loud, snarling growl. She looks up towards the coat rack. Josiah places his hands on Mia’s shoulders and pushes her down to the ground with force. Mia screams as her body hits
112 the floor. The next part is a blur. Students are now all in the hallway. Josiah is being physically restrained by Mrs. Sanders from behind. His arms are crossed against his chest, pinned to his body. He screams. Sam hears herself shouting. A buzzing of students’ voices in the hallway. Josiah kicks out with force. Mrs. Sanders is struggling.
Mr. Davies is now in the room, helping Mia to stand up. More adults enter. Ava exits the classroom…more tears and sobbing. The movie ends.
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November 20th
“Like, why aren’t you going to be with us at our party?” Jada asks, standing across from Sam’s desk.
“Well, teachers sometimes have meetings they have to go to,” Sam responds.
She’s sitting at her desk for the first time that day, enjoying the brief break from standing and walking throughout the morning. Glue, color pencils, construction paper and other green, brown, and orange art materials litter the classroom. The morning had been even busier than normal due to the constant crafting and general holiday hubbub. Students were not necessarily unruly, but they hadn’t been easy to rein in either. Malik and Noah materialize next to Jada, and suddenly several sets of eyes are gazing at Sam intently.
“Yeah, can’t you just skip it?” Malik asks. “My dad skips stuff at work all the time. He calls it ‘dele-kating’.”
“That would be ‘delegating,’” Sam smiles despite herself and engages in the conversation. Not much was getting done anyway. “Delegating, means we hand off some of our work for other people to do.”
“Isn’t that cheating?” Noah’s brow furrows and he looks with concern at Malik.
“You said that when we have others do our work for us, that it’s cheating.”
“No, delegating isn’t cheating,” Sam responds. “I’m sure Malik’s dad has hired and pays people to do the work he’s assigned for them.”
Malik’s eyes open wide and Sam can almost see the light bulb brighten above his head. “Hey, I got some money from my grams for my birthday. Maybe I can hire Willa or Mia to do my work for me. They’re smart. Then it wouldn’t be cheating. It would be delegating. See, win/win!” He smiles triumphantly.
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“Nope!” Sam leans back in her chair and makes a triangle with her hands in mock thoughtfulness. “In this classroom, there will be no delegating. It isn’t allowed. And it looks like I’m going to have to go to this meeting, even if it’s during the classroom
Thanksgiving celebrations.” Sam dismisses the students back to their seats and makes a brief announcement. “Ballooners, the building sub, Mrs. Plyer will be in to guide the
Turkey festivities today. As you might have heard, I have to go to another meeting…yet again.” The last part was whispered under her breath. A collected groan sounds through the classroom. Willa raises her hand and Sam nods at her.
“She’s, like, as old as my great, great, great grandma,” Willa says. “My mom says Mrs. Plyer was a teacher here when she was in third grade and she was already super old then. I hope she doesn’t die while she’s in here. That would be a big inconvenience to our party.”
Sam can’t help but chuckle despite the growing disappointment at having to miss her first classroom Thanksgiving celebration.
“Yes, well, dying in the classroom isn’t allowed, either. You all need to give her your best efforts and behavior. I will be asking and checking,” Sam smiles again.
Kyle raises his hand but talks out before Sam can recognize him, “Hey, is that
Josiah ever coming back? I hope not.”
“Kyle, you need to raise your hand and wait for me to call on you,” Sam responds. Now it’s her turn for her brow to furrow.
“I heard he was kicked out or something,” Kyle mumbles audibly.
“Josiah had some things to take care of this week. I believe he’ll be back to school Monday when we return from break. But let’s not worry about Josiah. Let’s mind
115 our own business and worry about ourselves instead of talking about someone while they’re not here. Capeesh? Oh, here’s Mrs. Plyer now.” Sam sees the front end of a walker slowly making its way through the classroom door.
* * *
Sam opens the conference room and wearily smiles when she sees Mrs. Sanders already seated, with a legal pad and pen.
“How’s it going, Sam?” Mrs. Sanders inquires with a grin on her face. “Kylee and
Michelle said you were having a day off in your classroom today when I pulled them earlier!”
“Yeah, well, they weren’t too far off the mark, despite my best efforts. However,
I’d take today and yesterday a thousand times over as compared to the past couple of weeks. It’s been…” Sam trails off and her smile fades.
“Hell? Yeah, it has been. I’m not sure if it’s the lead up to Thanksgiving break or we got sucked into an alternate reality with an eternally full moon, but this crap has got to stop. I want to help the poor guy, but enough is enough. I think Mr. Frey has mom’s phone number on speed dial. I’m glad we’re having the meeting today, even if the timing is terrible here right before break.” Something catches Mrs. Sander’s eyes from the door’s sidelights. “Speaking of Mr. Frey, here he comes.”
Mr. Frey enters the conference room, his face deadpan.
“Busy day, Mr. Frey?” Sam asks, fully knowing the answer.
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He shakes his head. “Too many irons in the fire. But this is too important to not make time for. You said she’d be here at 2:00, right Mrs. Sanders? How long do you think this will take? I need to make sure I’m able to get out of here to facilitate dismissal.”
“Maybe 45 minutes?” Mrs. Sanders replies, shrugging her shoulders.
“Is mom coming?” he asks quickly.
“She’s at home with Josiah due to the suspension,” she replies. “She’ll be joining us through phone here.” She nods to the large conference telephone on the table. Just then, there’s a small knock on the door. “Come in,” Mrs. Sanders calls. A young, curly haired woman enters the room with a stack of papers under her arm, each paper clipped precisely. A smile briefly flares to her face as she finds a seat.
“It’s really good to see you again, Ms. Locker.” Sam notes warmly. “I’m really glad we were able to make this time work.
“Yes, my name is Mr. Frey and I am the principal here.” He stands and they briefly shake hands. “We’re really grateful that the district was able to make this arrangement. We look forward to hearing your thoughts, especially since we’re closing in on nine days of suspension this school year.”
“You’re very welcome,” Ms. Locker responds.
“If you’re ready to go, let’s get mom on the phone, as we need to monitor our time here.”
Mrs. Sanders enters the number and the phone rings.
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“Hi, Mrs. Robb? Yes, it’s Mrs. Sanders. We have Mr. Frey, Sam, and myself here. We also have Ms. Locker here as well. She’s the behavior analyst I mentioned to you the other day. She’s here to review a plan for Josiah’s behavior. Are you ready?”
“In front of you, you’ll find the consultative report I have completed for Josiah.
Mrs. Robb, did you receive the report I had sent earlier today to your email?”
“No, I didn’t receive it,” she responds flatly.
“Well, okay, we will make sure you get a paper copy,” Ms. Locker responds.
“We’ll mail it to you. Does that work?”
“Okay,” Mrs. Robb replies.
“Well, first of all, let me say that I find Josiah to be a compelling young man.
He’s clearly working hard and is making a great effort to find success in the classroom.
However, I believe we will need to provide him further supports than what the current
IEP has in place for him. I see that you reviewed a new IEP at the end of…?”
“It was just a few weeks ago. The end of October,” Mrs. Sanders replies.
“Good enough, end of October,” Ms. Locker continues. “I completed an expedited evaluation for Josiah based on the significant concerns from his IEP team. I observed him on three different occasions during the first week and a half of November. I also interviewed both his classroom teacher, um, Sam, and Mrs. Sanders here. I reviewed the behavioral data collected by the team as well as the functional behavior assessment completed by Mrs. Sanders. I saw several frequent low level escalations, including yelling, some pushing of peers, refusing to comply with instructions, and some other off- task behaviors. Several high level behaviors were also reported to me including various instances of physical and verbal aggression. Based on all of this data, I have developed a
118 plan for the team to implement, including several steps for both the classroom teacher and the intervention specialist to begin after the break. The first item that we need to address is having both the intervention specialist and the classroom teacher trained in crisis prevention. The district will need to look for outside training by a company.
Typically, this is a day or two of specialized training that gives teachers the tools to deescalate a crisis before it occurs, but also entails safe methods of restraint.”
The phone crackles. “What do you mean by restraint?” Mrs. Robbs pipes in, concern in her voice.
“Restraint refers to restricting a person's freedom of movement or normal use of a person's body,” Ms. Locke responds. “There are some companies that provide safe methods of restraint that are used only in the event of a significant crisis. They’re only used as a last resort. Although there hasn’t been any behavior that I’ve seen that would warrant a restraint, I believe the training will be necessary as it provides teachers with the tools to avoid a crisis that would warrant a restraint. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“I’m not comfortable with people putting hands on Josiah,” Mrs. Robb interjects.
“That seems pretty extreme. We’re talking about a child going through a rough patch, probably due to the expectations placed on him in the classroom.”
“Mrs. Robb?” This is Mr. Frey, “These are just the recommendations from Ms.
Locker. We’ll talk about developing a more specific plan for Josiah once we meet again for the IEP at the beginning of December. Does that sound fair?”
“Fine. Let’s hear the rest of this,” Ms. Robb says with an edge of derision in her voice.
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“Okay, well, we started with the most invasive recommendation first,” Ms. Lock smiles professionally. “Next, I would like to talk about developing a space we’ll call the
Quiet Room. Josiah already visits the resource room for instruction. The Quiet Room would be a different space. The Quiet Room should have a carpet and mat, bean bag chair, and cushions. The lighting in the room should be muted.”
“Is this like a time-out room?” Mrs. Sanders interjects.
“No, the Quiet Room is not a reward or a punishment. It is an alternative to the resource room when Josiah’s behavior escalates to an unsafe point. When Josiah begins to calm in the Quiet Room, he should return to the resource room to fully calm before returning to class. There are some more specifics here in the document about how to use the Quiet Room.”
Ms. Lock continues with numerous intervention recommendations for Sam and
Mrs. Sanders to implement. Mrs. Sanders conscientiously takes various notes and Sam continues to scan the document. There are a total of 14 specific recommendations, many of them are for her to implement including specific phrasing of commands, a precise reinforcement schedule, scheduled breaks, and numerous methods of presenting instruction. Also included was a “sensory path,” which was a network of decals that could be posted outside the classroom. The sensory path could be used for Josiah to walk periodically throughout the day to help him more effectively self-regulate.
“This is going to require a massive overhaul of the IEP,” Mrs. Sanders notes.
“Yes, it probably will,” Ms. Locker notes.
“I’m going to have to see your report before I agree to any changes,” Mrs. Robb remarks.
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“Let’s hit on the data collection options and we’ll be able to finish up. I would suggest recording with tallies, both the number of positives given to Josiah and the number of prompts given throughout the day. I think it’s important to include two to three different settings and times of the day and record data for those same times on a regular basis. This data should give you a running view of the level of support required for Josiah.”
“Well, I have 28 other students in the classroom to instruct. How am I supposed to take data on a student and teach at the same time?” Sam is no longer in the holiday spirit. She’s overwhelmed.
“One option is to wear an apron with red and green chips. Every time in a lesson that you provide a reinforcer, transfer a green chip. Every time you prompt Josiah, just transfer a red chip. Then you would just transfer the data to a written sheet at the end of each section of the day.”
Mrs. Sanders looks towards Mr. Frey and mouths, “How about hiring an aide?”
Mr. Frey just shakes his head.
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October 15th
Sam steps outside the school building and feels a shower of sun pour over her.
Her eyes briefly strain as they adjust to the brightness. Her black jacket seems to be a bit overkill as the coolness of the past weeks has abated. She puts on her sunglasses and steps aside to hold the door open. A surge of exuberance bursts from behind her as a flood of children cascade into the great outdoors. It’s been two weeks of pouring rain and indoor recess. The once forlorn playground is now abuzz with screams and yells.
Sam is joined by Mrs. Sanders, who also appears overdressed for the weather.
“Isn’t this great, Sam? One more day of indoor recess and I think we’d be looking at a Lord of the Flies tragedy! These kids need to get outside and get out the wiggles.”
Sam smiles.
“I feel the same way. Days on end of indoor recess makes for a crazy classroom.”
Sam scans the playground and locates Josiah. He’s okay. He’s busy twirling on the tire swing. Students are chasing and running after one another and all seems right in the world. Toby and Noah are on the swings, Liam and Malik are heaving a seemingly too heavy football as they attempt to play Jackpot. Jada and her vast network of friends are milling about, deep in conversation about hair scrunchies.
“Do we have a playground monitor today?” Mrs. Sanders asks.
“Yep, it’s Tia’s mom. She does such a great job working with the kids…there she is.” Tia’s mom exits from the office, a lanyard hanging from her neck with the word
“Volunteer” printed on her badge in big, black letters. She smiles and waves at Mrs.
Sanders and Sam, but before she can join them, she is waylaid by a first grader and Sam hears something about “bathroom” and “emergency.”
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Mrs. Sanders looks at Sam and says, “I’ll watch the other side of the playground until Tia’s mom comes back, okay?”
“Sounds good,” Sam responds.
Sam returns her attention to the students. Where’s Josiah? Sam scans the playground, searching through the mass of children. After several seconds of visually attempting to separate a sea of bodies, she exhales. There he is. Josiah has a small stick and is digging in the mulch. He seems content to dig a hole. Sam considers him for a long moment, looking at the stick in his hand. The stick seems like a bad idea. After a couple of seconds, she begins to walk over to Josiah, but is interrupted by a pull on her jacket. Gracie had materialized at her side, crying.
“What did you do sweetheart?”
“I hurt my elbow.”
“I can tell. But, what did you do?”
“I fell off the monkey bars,” Gracie manages to say as tears begin streaking down her cheek.
“It looks like you might need to get some ice.” Sam walks over to the door, scans her badge, and the door unlocks.
“Go straight to the office, okay Gracie? The nurse will get you all fixed up.”
Gracie enters the building and Sam returns to her station.
“Can you help us, please? We need your help,” Mia walks over to Sam with a forlorn Olivia at her side. “Olivia lost her necklace.”
Olivia relates that she needs to find the necklace since it was her mom’s and she forgot to ask for permission to borrow it. Sam spends the next few moments searching
123 through flower beds and mulch for the missing necklace. After a few minutes, Olivia realizes that the necklace was actually still in her pocket. Sam asks if she can hold onto the necklace until the end of the day and makes a mental note to email Olivia’s mother about the necklace.
Olivia and Mia race off to the next recess adventure and Olivia calls out behind her, “Thank you, you’re the best teacher ever!”
Sam smiles and shakes her head. She begins to make her way back to her playground monitoring position, but suddenly hears Mrs. Sanders’s urgent voice behind her.
“Sam, come quick…its Josiah again!”
* * *
Sam’s eyes travel across her classroom, a familiar view now in her second month of teaching. She spies a forgotten, trampled on worksheet on the floor next to the sink.
The chairs are stacked upside down on the tables, the green tennis balls spiking up towards the ceiling. Pools of dried up dirt and mud cover the tile, hinting at the student foot traffic from the day. A forlorn gray hooded sweatshirt hangs near the student cubbies. Sam sighs in an effort to minimize the intermittent spasms of anxiety clawing through her gut. She returns her attention to a discipline referral she had written after recess and the new comments Mr. Frey had just added to the bottom:
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Location Playground
Possible Social altercation; disagreement.
Motivation
What happened? During recess, Josiah told Tia that he would "beat her up." She
had bumped into Josiah while playing tag. Tia then stated that she
was going to tell an adult about his threat. He then proceeded to
hit her in the back of the head. He used a 20-inch long stick,
swinging it like a baseball bat. He struck Tia in the head two times
before he was separated from Tia for safety and an administrator
was called.
Administrative • Conference with Student
Decision • Parent Contact
• Suspension
Administrative Mr. Frey spoke to students involved, their parents, and also
Comments contacted Josiah's mother. Josiah is suspended out of school for
two days.
Sam takes another deep breath, holds onto it, and then slowly exhales. She looks up at Mr. Davies who’s seated across from her. Concern pours over his face, making him look a hundred years old. “Yes, I am frustrated with Josiah. But I’m more frustrated with myself. I saw the stick and got wrapped up with other students. I should have been
125 more on top of things.” As she speaks, tears begin to glisten in her eyes. She quickly blinks them away.
“Sam, this isn’t his first incident,” Mr. Davies responds. “You can’t take responsibility for Josiah’s decisions. From what you’ve told me, things have really ramped up this past week. He’s been to Mr. Frey’s office twice this week. And these were referrals made by his specials teachers and during lunch by other staff.”
“Ok, I get that, but I just see things starting to get worse and worse for Josiah. I don’t know what to do for him,” Sam responds quickly with a flutter.
“What does Mrs. Sanders think about things?” he asks.
“We were only able to talk a few minutes after recess. She mentioned something about providing a modified recess for Josiah. I don’t know what that means.” Sam can’t help herself and grabs a tissue to dab her eyes.
“Yeah, I had a student like that a few years ago. Mrs. Sanders and I restricted his activities to a few locations that we could more tightly monitor his behavior. That seemed to work pretty well. Sometimes that increase in accountability and teacher proximity can help with intervening before things get out of control.” Mr. Davies removes his thick glasses and uses the tail of his button up shirt to wipe away dust and fingerprints. He then lifts them up to the sun to inspect them, and then continues. “I’ve used behavior charts for other students in the past. I’m sure they addressed that during your coursework?” Sam nods and Mr. Davies continues. “Sometimes these issues can be worked out with just a little old fashioned bribery. The carrot is stronger than the stick, so to speak.”
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“I’m sure Mrs. Sanders is already working on something. It’s just…I feel like there is something else I should be doing. I should be making more connection points with him throughout the day. I just need to find that thing that we can connect on.
Checkers maybe…? That doesn’t feel like it’s nearly enough.”
An email chime sounds and Sam is compelled to look at her screen. She groans.
“What is it?” Mr. Davies asks.
“An email from Tia’s mom,” Sam replies. She reads it out loud.
Sam,
Thank you for your quick action today on the playground for Tia. I wanted to let you know that we visited the ER and they diagnosed Tia with a mild concussion. She has blurry vision and a massive headache. We’ll be keeping her home for at least tomorrow.
Is there anything that can be done to make sure this doesn’t happen again? I know you’re trying your best, but I think there should be some disciplinary action taken. We’ll be spending a significant chunk of money on the medical bill.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Ortiz
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October 1st
“Thank you for coming in, Mrs. Robb, and for making this time work.” Sam spies a forgotten pencil next to Mia’s chair as she talks, but immediately turns her gaze back to
Mrs. Robb. Mrs. Robb is seated across from Sam in a smallish student chair. The sound of the air conditioner rumbles on, reminding them both of the unseasonable warmth outside. Despite the cool air emanating from the unit, patches of the classroom remain uncomfortably warm from the sunlight pouring through the glass. Behind Mrs. Robb sit the recently vacated chairs and tables. The students are in art and the classroom is silent now, perhaps grateful for a brief respite. Mrs. Robb’s eyes look across the desk at Sam.
She takes a deep breath and responds.
“It’s not easy getting over here in the afternoon. What did he do now?” Mrs.
Robb asks casually.
“It’s nothing like that, Mrs. Robb. I wanted to let you know how things are going for Josiah as he’s transitioning to a new school and classroom. I wanted to make sure I was communicating with you so that you were fully aware of some of the things we’ve observed. Mrs. Sanders will be joining us here in a few minutes as well.”
“Who’s that?” Mrs. Robb asks sharply. Her eyes dart towards the door expectantly.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sam is momentarily confused, but recovers quickly. “She’s the intervention specialist who’s delivering the specially designed instruction to Josiah. I think you met her on Josiah’s first day? She’s helping with the reading. She wanted to talk about the IEP paperwork that we’re are still waiting on.”
“Oh, Okay,” Mrs. Robb responds, her shoulders slacken ever so slightly.
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“Josiah has managed to adapt to our school fairly well, although he’s needed a lot of academic support. He’s fairly quiet and reserved, but every so often I’m able to get a smile out of him. At times, he seems unfocused, though. I didn’t see any medical conditions noted on his registration form. Does he have any medical background we need to be aware of?”
“No. Nothing medical. How do the other kids treat him?” Mrs. Robb leans forward slightly, her eyebrows raise. “He’s always had the hardest time during recess.”
“He, uh, mostly stays to himself,” Sam replies, choosing her words carefully. “He seems to enjoy imaginary play. Talks a lot to himself as he walks around the playground.
Sometimes he looks like he wants to interact with the other students but doesn’t know how just yet. Before it warmed up today, we had a couple of days of indoor recess. It took us some time to find something he was interested in doing. The one game he’s taken to is checkers. He’s really talented with it.”
“Is he playing checkers with the other students?” Mrs. Robb asks.
“No, it’s mostly me he plays checkers with. He’s pretty quiet when we play, but really seems to enjoy it. He’s still trying to find his way with his peers.”
“His dad liked checkers,” Mrs. Robb remarks. She’s all business. “I’m glad you’re in here during recess time. He told me that this boy named Noah was picking on him. I want something done about that.”
Sam frowns, “I’m sorry to hear that. I haven’t seen anything like that and if I did,
I would certainly put a stop to it. Has Josiah mentioned what was said or when this is happening?”
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“Nope, he doesn’t like to talk much about it. He just mentioned he hates Noah and that Noah bullies him.”
Sam takes a second and thinks before responding, “Well, I will make sure to keep a lookout for anything like that. We want to foster a community of learners in this room, and bullying isn’t going to be tolerated.” Sam attempts to shift the conversation. “Like I said, I’ve noticed that Josiah isn’t initiating conversations with other students and is staying mostly to himself. Our school counselor is starting a friendship group at school during lunchtime. The group meets weekly and focuses on making new friends, working out problems, how to start conversations…things like that. I was thinking Josiah might be a really good candidate for a group like this, especially since he’s new.”
“Well, I’d have to think about it,” Mrs. Robb’s face puckers in thought.
Sam hesitates, a bit unsure. “Well…I think he would really benefit. We’re not always able to take time in the classroom to teach these types of skills. Our school counselor comes in for weekly lessons as part of our social/emotional curriculum, but a friendship group would be an opportunity for Josiah to develop more specific skills.
Maybe even find a friend. Is there anything about a group that specifically bothers you or that you have questions about?
“No, I just know Josiah has had a lot of transitions lately,” Mrs. Robb hesitates, “I don’t think I want to make another change to his day.”
Just then, Mrs. Sanders enters the classroom. She introduces herself to Mrs. Robb and sits down next to her.
“Mrs. Sanders, we were just talking about the friendship group,” Sam notes.
“Oh yes, that would be great for Josiah!” Mrs. Sanders responds.
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“We’ll see,” says Mrs. Robb, “I haven’t made up my mind up about that.”
Mrs. Sanders looks a bit surprised but continues. “Well, let’s keep in touch and let us know what you decide.” Mrs. Sanders takes a breath and begins to present the results of some of the district’s reading and math diagnostics that were completed just after Josiah arrived.
“As you can see Josiah is really working hard on basic reading skills. He’s performing about a year and a half below grade level, and we’re going to spend the next several months improving his sight word recognition and building his reading fluency.”
“You mean to tell me that you completed these assessments during the first week of school?” Mrs. Robb looks at Mrs. Sanders with a hint of disapproval.
“Yes, Mrs. Robb, we assess all students three times per year, at a minimum, to determine their skills with reading and math. Josiah enrolled late, but he was just inside our assessment window. These benchmark assessments give us a baseline on his skills to determine where to start our instruction. We want to make sure that we are teaching him skills that are at his level. If things are too hard or too difficult, he’s not going to grow academically. We then continue to monitor his progress regularly using additional assessments. If his IEP has a reading goal on it, I’m sure there is also a method of assessing his progress for that goal. Does that make sense?”
“I guess,” Mrs. Robb’s response is almost a retort. “I would think you’d consider his need to acclimate before you begin testing. I see him reading a lot higher at home.”
She sniffs and looks at both Sam and Mrs. Sanders. “He’s probably not interested in the things you’re both asking him to read.”
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“What does he like to read, Mrs. Robb? What is he interested in?” Sam looks inquiringly at Mrs. Robb.
“A variety of things,” Mrs. Robb responds dryly. “He’s into superheroes.
Spiderman and the Hulk, I guess.”
“Well, I think we can incorporate his interests into some of what we read,” Sam responds. “Our curriculum also requires us to teach students to appreciate a variety of genres.” Mrs. Robb just shrugs.
“Mrs. Robb, I’ve noticed Josiah appears tired. In fact, he fell asleep on his table yesterday during our morning work. Does he have difficulty with sleeping?”
“He’s in bed at 8:00 every night.” She looks down at her feet just for a moment and then gives Sam direct eye contact. “He sleeps just fine.”
* * *
“You know, you just can’t sit there all day doing lesson plans and grading. You’ll turn into an old schoolmarm! You have to find balance. This is good for you!”
Sam smiles. She appreciates the gentle gibe. Sweat trickles next to Sam’s ear and down her cheek. Their two shadows bounce up and down in front of them as they walk and the sidewalk passes quickly under their feet. Alfred Burrows School rapidly recedes behind them and they are slowly engulfed in a sea of midcentury homes. They pass a random group of junior high students shooting hoops in the driveway. An elderly woman is in her yard raking the first layer of autumn leaves.
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“I’m trying!” Sam responds. She laughs. “My mom always said the hard part of teaching happened after students left the building. I never knew what she meant, but I’m beginning to. Meetings, paperwork, lesson plans, and emails. It’s hard to keep up.”
A large, white, late model SUV suddenly pulls up and gives a friendly honk. One of the rear windows rolls down slowly to reveal Mia’s smiling face. She gives Sam an enthusiastic wave, a soccer ball perched on her lap.
“I’m on my way to soccer practice!” she proclaims.
“Oh, that’s great,” Sam responds, huffing slightly. “Kick a goal for me, okay
Mia?”
“I will!” Mia says with a supreme air of confidence.
Mia’s mom gives Sam a friendly jeer. “I didn’t think you were allowed out of the classroom!” She laughs. “It’s 4:00, does your principal know where you are?”
Sam waves back and smiles broadly, “I’m on parole…good behavior!” Mia’s mom laughs, waves, and then speeds away.
“Wow, that Mia’s a cute one!” Mrs. Sanders smiles at Sam. “You’re lucky to have that family. They’ve been supporters of the school for a long time. Lots of older brothers and sisters.”
“Well, she’s had a fantastic start to the year. All my students have,” Sam remarks breathily.
“How did Josiah do for you today?” Mrs. Sanders asks with a note of concern in her voice.
“He…he’s doing okay, I guess.”
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“I’m a bit nervous with this mysterious IEP,” Mrs. Sanders remarks. “All we’re working on is reading. I’ll bet you $20 that he has more on his IEP than just a reading goal. He really struggles with leaving my room. Today, he grabbed onto the bottom of his chair and wouldn’t stand up to leave when it was time to go. I had to bribe him with a
Hulk sticker.”
“Do you think he has ADHD…or maybe Anxiety?” Sam inquires. “I mean, I often see him having a hard time focusing on things in the classroom. It’s like he’s somewhere else. We were working on persuasive writing today and I saw that he was staring into space again. I gently tapped his shoulder to prompt him and he about jumped out of skin. He just seems like a bit of a nervous wreck at times.”
“Maybe,” Mrs. Sanders replies. “It’s hard to say. If we could just get that darn
IEP.”
“I take it this isn’t how it normally goes?” Sam asks.
“No, and I have no idea why it’s taking so long. Generally, once a student withdraws from a school and enrolls in another, a records request is sent to the old school. They are required to send all student documents. I’ve seen districts withhold records due to unpaid school fees, which is illegal of course. I once had a student where the parents enrolled them and unenrolled them in multiple districts within about half a year’s time. The family double-upped with extended family that lived in our district, so determining their residency was really difficult. Getting the paperwork was nearly impossible. We received pieces of the IEP from the family, and just had to rewrite an IEP without ever having the full original in our possession. The original was forever lost apparently. Whatever the issue is with Josiah’s IEP, we may never get a full answer.
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Maybe there isn’t even an IEP out there. I’ve even called the previous school and asked for the records. They haven’t responded to multiple emails or phone calls.”
“Regardless of the IEP, I want to find a way to unlock Josiah’s potential,” Sam pants slightly due to the quick pace of their walk. “He’s a sensitive soul, and if I can provide him with a safe and predictable classroom environment, I think he’s just going to blossom. When we had the issue the other day on the playground with Gracie, he was quick to apologize and even shook her hand, unprompted. He just lost his temper. But he recovered and that’s what counts.”
“Yeah, that was strange, because the kid hadn’t put two words together since he started school,” Mrs. Sanders remarks. “He just seems so timid. It was so out of character to what I would have expected for him.”
“I don’t know. I just think he’s been dealt a bad hand,” Sam remarks. “I just need to find a key that unlocks his mind and makes him feel a part of things.”
They continue to talk and their conversation drifts to other things. Eventually, they round the corner and make their way back up to the front glass doors of Alfred
Burrows. Mrs. Sanders scans her lanyard and the large metal doors give a metallic click as they unlock. They enter into the small atrium area with the last rays of sun lighting up the entryway. They step into the main hallway. One of the school custodians passes by with a large industrial tile scrubber, humming to the sound of country music in her earbuds. By habit, both Sam and Mrs. Sanders pass by the teacher workroom on the way back to their classrooms. Sam’s mailbox is empty, but Mrs. Sanders spies a lone document sitting in hers.
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“Well, what do you know?” Mrs. Sanders says with legitimate surprise in her voice. “It’s the long, lost IEP.” She quickly scans through the document. Her eyes dance across the page and narrows in concentration. Sam looks toward her expectantly. Mrs.
Sanders rapidly flips through the last few pages and opens her mouth in a humorless smile.
“Looks like you owe me that $20.”
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September 15th and 16th
“Okay everyone, find your thinking spots!” Sam calls out. The class is a momentary explosion of movement. Jada and Noah dive under their desks, Liam quickly commandeers the beanbag, and Zoey and Gracie have a fierce, but speedy argument about who should use the wooden rocking chair. They quickly decide that there is room for both of them on the floral cloth seat. After a 10 second ruckus, Sam flips the light switch and the students instantly freeze. Willa is balanced on one foot, her arms extended in a frozen stride. The class giggles as Willa attempts to maintain her frozen runner’s pose for a second and begins losing her balance. Sam smiles.
“Willa, you can unfreeze and sit. Class that was a very good transition! You were quick and relatively quiet! Your willingness to follow directions is going to earn us even more free time at the end of the day! Everyone, silent cheer!” Sam cracks a grin at the random expressions of excitement…Malik daps, Jada fist pumps, and Ava does a seated floss. Sam turns off the lights again.
“I want you to close your eyes. Noah, no talking, please. Everyone, you have to be absolutely quiet for this activity.” Sam waits. She waits some more. Students finally take the hint, and a chorus of shushes is heard. The class quiets down. Sam takes a seat on her desk and begins speaking in a calm and soothing voice.
“Okay, looks like we’re ready. Close your eyes now. I want you to all slowly breathe in through your nose… a big, steady, and slow breath. If your nose is stuffy, you can breathe in through your mouth. Now breathe out. Breathe in again, but now hold it for two seconds...and breathe out through your mouth. Keep your breathing slow and steady as we are about to take a mind journey. Here…we…go! I want you to imagine
137 that you are walking out onto a big field. The field is full of grass that is a deep green hue. Each blade of grass is coated with a soft white, silvery frost. Try to see each blade.
They’re too numerous to count. Look at the ice crystals that shimmer and reflect the cool, pale light. Now, in your mind, slowly look up and see how the grass goes up towards a big, smooth, green hill. Covering the grass is a dense fog, so you can’t see more than just the hill. Not yet. Now, take another deep breath and hold it…and let it go. Next, I want you to imagine that a shaft of light is cutting through the fog onto the top of the hill. You walk over to the shaft of light and soon find that it’s spreading across the grass to reveal a wicker basket. The basket is large enough for several people to step into.”
Sam surveys the classroom. Each student’s face is scrunched up in peaceful concentration. The breathing is slow and steady. She continues.
“The wicker basket has a door. I want you to open the door and step into the basket. Can you see it?”
Several heads slowly nod.
“Look up now. Above you is a peaceful and safe tongue of fire reaching high into the sky. It flickers and roars, but it’s safe. The fog begins to lift. Beyond the flame is a large canvas cloth high above, made up of all the colors of the rainbow. You stare into the rainbow colors and smile. You realize that you are in a large hot air balloon. You feel strong, confident, and happy. The sun now splits the clouds apart and you see that you are no longer on the ground. You are high in the sky, riding in the hot air balloon.
You feel calm and safe. You look out and can see the green grass far below, the frost sparkling like diamonds in the morning sunlight. Off into the distance you see forests full
138 of tall oak and maple trees with a winding, lazy river creeping through the trees and hills.
It’s breathtaking. But you also see something else. You see yourself, way down below on top of one of the hills. It’s another you. The hot air balloon begins to lower and you get a better look at yourself. It’s you, but not the you that you know now. It’s who you will be… the person you grow up to be. You see your future family…new friends. You see your personality…the way you laugh and talk. You see all the things you’ve learned.
You also see the hard things you’ve overcome. As you look from the hot air balloon you see all the places …all the places you will go. I want you to breathe in and out. Keep looking at the future you. Drink it in….now…open your eyes.”
Sam surveys the class. A blanket of calm covers each student. It’s a moment that
Sam and her class share, a tangible stillness. No one moves or talks. Just hopeful smiles as the students look at her and then look at each other. After a beat, Liam looks over
Sam’s shoulder towards the door. Mr. Frey was standing in the doorway, watching. He gives Sam a thumbs up sign and then motions for her to continue.
“Okay class, I want you to take several mental snapshots of the things that you saw during our mind journey. We will be writing using descriptive language like we’ve talked about this week…showing and not telling. We will be writing about our future selves…who are you going to become? That’s what I want you to write about. Make sure you refer to the example on the board and use your writing webs as a reference.”
The class moves quickly back to their desks, ready to start.
* * *
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Sam scans the classroom and lets out a chuckle. Puddles of water and a fine layer of flour covers the desks and tile floors. Particles of flower float in the late summer sun that streams through the windows, intermingling with the smell of “kid sweat.” This is the perfect day to show off her classroom, she thinks. No, it isn’t neat and orderly.
Student learning means rolling up your sleeves and getting messy, she thinks to herself.
“Hey! I heard you all were making…OMG, what happened in here?” Mr. Davies enters the classroom chuckling.
“We just finished our hot air balloon papier-mâché project…isn’t it awesome!”
Sam says with obvious zeal.
“Hot air balloons…how about a hot mess!” Mr. Davies laughs. “I’m surprised that they let you do this. I think it’s great, but the third grade year is all about getting students to pass the state assessments. At least it is for admin. A bit of a risk with our strict pacing guides, don’t you think…?”
“I spoke to Mr. Frey about it at the beginning of the year.” Sam walks toward the sink, runs some water over a paper towel, and begins dabbing flour off her pink and black blouse. “He felt like the class came in with pretty good skills. He’s not really worried about this group passing the state assessments. You know, I could have taught the standards using worksheets, but I think we do enough of that type of work anyways. This
‘papier-mâché disaster’ is something students will remember.”
“True,” Mr. Davies nods in agreement. “Come to think of it, I saw a few of your students getting on the bus. They looked like they had been deloused, covered head to foot in flour. I would love to be a fly on the wall to see parents when they get home!”
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“Heck yeah! I think I can measure the quality of my teaching by the amount of laundry parents have to do!”
Mr. Davies laughs and then changes the subject. “Hey, I heard you’re finally going to meet up with the mysterious Josiah today? Let me know how it goes.” With a flick of his wrist, he looks at his watch. “I gotta run.”
Minutes later, Sam and Mrs. Robb enter the classroom. Josiah follows right behind his mother, shuffling slowly, looking at the floor as he walks. His eyes are droopy and the sides of his mouth are downturned in a frown. Sam’s brow momentarily creases with concern at his dull affect. After a moment, she decides he must have just woken up from a nap. They enter the classroom together and Josiah’s eyes widen as he surveys the flour carnage. Sam laughs.
“Josiah, we don’t always make messes in the classroom. Just sometimes. Today was just a special project. Have you ever read a Dr. Seuss book?”
Josiah stares up into Sam’s eye for a moment. He then slowly shakes his head no.
Sam continues. “We’ll be talking more about that after you start with us next week, but ‘Oh, The Places You Will Go!’ is our theme for the year.”
“Josiah is still learning to read,” Mrs. Robb states, matter-of-factly. “His last school didn’t take the time to help them even learn the basics.”
“Hey, Josiah, let me show you how to draw on the whiteboard.” Sam turns on the board and provides Josiah with a digital pen. She shows him how to draw with the tip and how to use the other side to erase. Josiah gives Sam a soft smile and begins carefully drawing on the board. Sam then ushers Mrs. Robb over to her desk where they sit on the opposite side of the room.
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“I spoke to our administrative assistant earlier today,” Sam begins. “We still haven’t received the records from Josiah’s previous school district. We were wondering if you had copies of paperwork that we could review before he starts with us? Report cards, any records of services he might have received…anything really.”
“I guess I’d have to look for it. I know he has an IEP,” Mrs. Robb responds.
“Oh, sure. Well, Mrs. Sanders is the intervention specialist who will manage his case then.” Sam pauses. “Do you know about any other special services he had at his last school?”
“Well, I know he needed some help with other kids,” Mrs. Robb replies. “He doesn’t like others getting in his space. He was bullied at his other school, and that’s why we left. He got in trouble for standing up for himself, and I was tired of dealing with that principal.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” a flicker of concern sparks inside Sam. But she is careful to appear impassive. Sam continues, “Well, we have a pretty good classroom community here. It’s still the first few weeks of school, but this group of kiddos seems to get along really well. I’m sure Josiah will fit in nicely once he gets comfortable.”
Mrs. Robb nods, looking a bit incredulous. Josiah continues to draw on the board.
“I was wondering why I had his name on my roster at the beginning of the year.
Did he start school at the other district?” Sam queries.
“No, like I told your enrollment people, we were in the middle of moving and I didn’t have the papers they wanted for…uh, proof of residency. It was a struggle to get
Josiah enrolled. Then we had to get situated in our new home.”
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This time, Sam isn’t able to quite hide the surprise from her face. Nothing is making sense. She plows on. “Well, we have started some new concepts, but I’m sure we’ll be able to get Josiah caught up before too long.”
“Is there anything else you can tell us about Josiah’s background that would be important for us to know?” Sam asks Mrs. Robb.
“Nope. Not that I can think of. He starts tomorrow, right?” Mrs. Robb’s eyes look over to Josiah and he continues to draw.
* * *
Sam pushes the door’s metal crash bar and steps outside. The smell of diesel fumes and the loud growl of bus engines signals the beginning of another school day.
Although it was only the middle of September, hot and hazy air still coated the school like a blanket. Sam sips out of her water bottle and greets a few of the other teachers as they congregate on the blacktop. Mrs. Sanders waves briefly at Sam and then lifts a walkie-talkie to her mouth to say a few words. One at a time, bus doors squeak open and students jubilantly exit the buses. Sam greets students as they amble up and try to make some semblance of a line. Sam gives a few high fives and fist pumps; however, she has her eyes out for one student in particular.
Josiah exits the bus with an aged green backpack slung over one of his shoulders.
He cautiously grasps the rail as he lowers himself down, down the steps. His eyes are glued to the ground as he walks off the bus with the same shuffling, unsure steps he had the other day during his classroom visit. Josiah makes his way over to Sam and quietly
143 stands next to her as the other students get in line and socialize. Josiah’s wearing an
Incredible Hulk t-shirt. The action character is slamming his fists on the ground and beams of green light are shooting out of his eyes. Josiah is also sporting a pair of blue jean shorts and brand new looking Air Jordan’s. It’s the tennis shoes that spark Sam’s interest as they cost almost a quarter of her paycheck. Noah, Liam, and Malik are in line next to Josiah and appear to be sizing him up.
“Hey, are you Josiah?” Malik asks, his eyes wide in question. After a half second, he remarks, “Those are some sweet shoes, man!”
“My brother asked for some Jordan’s, but my mom said she’d have to get another part time job just to afford ‘em,” Noah remarks.
“Do you play basketball?” Liam asks.
Josiah just stares at the students. Sam interjects.
“Okay, okay, everyone. Yes, this is Josiah. Like I mentioned yesterday, he’s a new student who’s joining our class. Let’s not pepper him with too many questions and overwhelm him on his first day. You’ll have plenty of time to get to know him and become friends.” The bell rings. “Okay, Ballooners! Let’s go to the classroom.
Remember, we are working on transitioning without talking! Let’s do an even better job than yesterday.”
The students march down the hallway with relatively little talking with only the sound of squeaky shoes slapping against the tile. The students enter the classroom with a clatter of sound and energy. Josiah remains standing next to Sam in the doorway and he surveys the organized chaos. Sam begins to point out the morning procedures and routines.
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“See how they’re hanging up their backpacks?” Sam motions over to the cubbies lining the wall. “You have a place right here on the wall. There’s your name tag.”
As she talks, she occasionally calls out reminders to students who have momentarily forgotten the morning routines.
“Mia, make sure you get right over to your seat…Malik…it’s not time to get a drink…does that make sense, Josiah? Do you understand how morning arrival works?”
He nods.
“Did you happen to bring folders for reading, writing, and math?” Josiah’s eyes look past her at the wall. He doesn’t respond. “Uh, Josiah, can I help you unpack your backpack?” He nods yes once again. Sam opens his backpack and retrieves a plain white spiral bound notebook and some unsharpened pencils. The rest of the backpack is empty.
“Okay Josiah, I have some binders and a few other things we can get for you. We’ll help you get all set up.”
Josiah nods and sits down at his table. Most students were already completing a worksheet Sam had placed on the table with various math facts, some grammar work, a paragraph followed by some comprehension questions, and two mistake-filled sentences for students to correct. Josiah looks at his name card on the table for a moment. He fiddles with it and then puts it aside. He briefly scans the worksheet, sighs, and rests his head on his arm. A few of his table mates give him some questioning looks, but dutifully begin the worksheet.
Sam studies Josiah and continues to take attendance and lunch count. When she comes to Josiah, she doesn’t ask. “Josiah, we’ll put you down for hot lunch, okay?” He nods, almost imperceptibly, still resting his head on his arm. Although he looks like he is
145 resting, Josiah’s eyes are continually scanning the room, darting back and forth rapidly.
Sam finishes lunch count and attendance.
“Kylee and Michelle, you can come and join me at my desk now. Josiah, why don’t you come here as well. Please bring your worksheet with you.” Josiah, Kylee, and
Michelle dutifully bring their worksheets and sit at Sam’s desk, their backs to the class.
Sam looks out at the class and places her worksheet under the digital overhead on her desk. An image of the worksheet suddenly floods the whiteboard. Sam briefly examines the three worksheets in front of her. Kylee and Michelle had each attempted several items, although they only finished about half of the worksheet. Josiah’s worksheet was blank. Sam again compares the worksheets and attempts to find items that none of the three had completed. She then reads parts of the worksheet out loud and provides further guidance to the three students.
“Okay, this question is asking us to practice adjectives. Adjectives tell us about nouns. Michelle and Kylee, do you remember the other day when we discussed adjectives? We talked about ice cream. When I say ice cream is sweet, ice cream is the noun and sweet is the adjective. Ice cream is a person, place, or thing, remember? Sweet tells us what ice cream is like, so the word sweet is the adjective. We could also say the ice cream is sour or salty, and those words would be adjectives, too. This problem wants us to complete the sentence by choosing the correct adjective. Let me read it. ‘Our garden is much’…bigger or biggest than last year?”
“Bigger. Duh,” Kylee arches her eyebrows animatedly and then laughs. Michelle chuckles, but Josiah flashes a confused look. Sam smiles. Josiah looks over his shoulder at the other students behind him, and quickly assesses the room. Sam then prompts
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Josiah to circle the word “bigger.” He takes his pencil and grasping it with his thumb and index finger in the center, shakily circles the item. Sam opens her drawer, pulls at a pencil grip, and asks Josiah if he’s ever used one before. He shakes his head and looks over his shoulder once again at the class. Sam places the pencil grip on Josiah’s pencil and their small group works on several more items. Minutes pass and the class begins to buzz with conversation. Sam looks at the clock and then surveys the class. The other students are finished with the worksheets. Tia and Ava are chattering on about bracelets that they had gotten from the water park this past weekend. Another group of boys are starting to play a game of keep away with an eraser. Sam gives the Lollipop signal and the class instantly quiets down.
“Good work with quieting your voices. I only had to ask once. Let’s review our work. The first few items asked us to add four, two digit numbers. Mia, what did you get for number one?” Mia calls out an answer. “Yep, that’s right, Mia. What strategy did you use to come up with your answer, Mia?” Mia answers. As Sam reviews the worksheet with the class, she audibly models her thinking, writes down the responses provided by students, corrects the incorrect answers, and occasionally prompts Kylee and
Michelle to write down a response. Josiah’s eyes stare intently at Sam as they work, as if he was waiting for something. At other times, he looks over his shoulder towards the other students in the class. After a few moments, Sam stands and walks around the classroom to check on student work. Sam continues to prompt Josiah to write down various answers and he complies. His script is large and the numbers and letters are shakily drawn. As they go, Josiah is appearing to do his best with keeping up. However,
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Sam observes that he is mostly copying down the responses that others are giving or looking at Michelle and Kylee’s work.
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August 15th. First Day of School
“Do you need anything?” Mr. Davies steps into Sam’s classroom, a childlike smile lighting up his careworn face.
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be!” The early morning sun crests into the classroom windows, reflecting a warm luster on the desks and tile floors. Sam is standing on a chair, balancing precariously as she stretches out her arms to hang up one last poster. The poster reads, “Success is Never Final and Failure is Never Fatal. It’s Courage to
Continue That Counts!” Mr. Davies gazes around the classroom, his eyes wide. He lets out a low whistle.
“Wow! You really transformed this room. Just a couple of weeks ago, this place was packed with spare desks and other junk. This room looks like a place you can actually teach in. What did they do with that old piano?”
“I think they ended up donating it since Mrs. Carl is teaching music from a cart now.” Sam stifles a sneeze as she steps down off the chair and admires the poster. Mr.
Davies continues to scan Sam’s classroom, a happy incredulity still fixed to his face.
Sam smiles at his amazement and Mr. Davies returns the grin.
“So, did you sleep much last night?” He asks. “I saw that you were still here last night when I left at 9:00. Did you get anything else done?”
“Not really,” Sam replies. “I just sat here and stared around the room for an hour.
Nerves I guess! Afterwards I left I just drove around. I stopped at Walmart and walked up and down the aisles. I know that may sound weird, but it seemed to calm me down a bit. I found that poster there and thought it would make a good addition to the classroom.
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How are things going for you, Mr. Davies? I’m sure the first day of school is pretty routine?”
“Oh no!” Mr. Davies replied. “Every night before the first day of school has been the same for me since I started teaching. I’m always a nervous wreck and can’t sleep.
When I do fall asleep, I have weird dreams. The one I have most often is that I come to school and I’m both the teacher and a student in my own classroom. Except, I don’t understand any of the material and all the students are looking at me with a bizarre silence. I keep trying to explain something I don’t even understand and all the words come out like my mouth is full of peanut butter.”
“Is this supposed to make me feel less nervous?” Sam smiles.
“It gets better,” Mr. Davies continues. “I keep teaching and teaching and finally look up at the clock and it’s like 6:00 at night. Parents begin lining up outside the school doors, banging on the door for me to return their kids!”
Sam laughs. “Okay, that does make me feel better. I’m not even going to tell you about my dreams!” She glances at the clock. “I can’t believe it. It’s finally the first day.
I’ve been racking my brain to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything.”
“I’m sure you haven’t with how hard you’ve been working these past few weeks,”
Mr. Davies replies. “Even if you have, the students have no idea what their first day is supposed to look like in your classroom. That’s the beauty of all of this. You can create whatever classroom learning environment you want…there’s room for improvisation and creativity.” Mr. Davies’s bushy eyebrows jump up and down as he talks. “Something always goes wrong on the first day, though, for all of us. It’s what the first day has
150 always been like for me at least. We get all year to figure out how to overcome student mistakes…plus our own. I’ve made my fair share of mistakes over the years.”
“Mr. Davies…you know I put that poster up on the wall…really for myself. It’s not that I’m scared. Okay, I’m just a bit scared,” Sam smiles. “But, I really feel that this is what I’m supposed to be doing. It’s just…what if I mess this up?”
“Look, Sam you’ve spent the last four years being trained by experts. From what
I’ve heard, you had an amazing student teaching experience. It’s time to use your skills to mold minds and make a difference. But you know all of this teaching, it’s not just technique. Good teaching is about you bringing all that you are into the classroom.
You’re…” Mr. Davies pauses, looking for the right words. “You’re pouring yourself out into these students. All that you are has to come out and fill up this room. There’s no holding back. You take all your strengths, even your weaknesses, and you use them to inspire learning. That’s really what this teaching gig is about. You change lives by giving yours away.” As Mr. Davies speaks, his eyes are looking at Sam, but perhaps searching into the past. A catalog of student faces race through his mind, a river of experiences that continues to pull him downstream.
* * *
Sam was now 15 minutes into her professional teaching career. So far, it had been the best 15 minutes of her life. Students entered into the classroom with fresh and curious faces. Of course, it had been a bit of a train wreck, too. Liam had left his lunch on the counter at home, which prompted mild hysteria until Sam reminded him that the
151 school offered a hot lunch. Mia and Gracie needed several reminders to stop chattering about wearing the same pink sequin T-shirts. “Yes, it is great that you are both wearing the same shirt, but we all need to sit down at our tables.” Kyle’s pencil pouch had spilled out onto the floor, including all his mechanical pencil lead which had skittered across the tile into every conceivable crack and crevice. Sam laughed as every single student crawled across the tile floor, searching for microscopic-sized pencil lead. “I didn’t find any lead, but here’s an old Band-Aid,” someone yells. Thankfully, the Band-Aid was still in its wrapper. They finally make it to their seats and Sam readies herself to speak.
But before she can open her mouth, a young dark haired child raises her hand and Sam looks down at her seating chart.
“Yes…uh…Jada?”
“Can I go to the bathroom?”
“Can you hold it for a few minutes?” Sam responds. Jada nods her head and Sam continues. “I want to tell you about our class door. You’ll see that there are 29 names on the door. Did anyone notice what was written on the door?”
Malik raised his hand, “Something about the places we’re all going to go.”
“That’s right. Oh…the places you will go!” Sam’s enthusiasm is beginning to pour through her words. “The places you will go!”
“Where are we going?” asks Mia. Sam makes a mental note that Mia will need reminders to raise her hand before speaking. She continues with her speech she’s ruminated about for the past four years.
“I want to read some of this book to help you imagine the many places you can go this year in the classroom. You see, you all will be able to visit different places this year.
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Some of the places will be faraway lands that you read about in storybooks. We will also be searching for new bits of knowledge…things that you’ve never even thought of before. These things might feel hard at first, but with my help, hard work, determination, and practice, you’ll learn these new skills. This school year is going to be a journey and a bit of an adventure! And to start things off, I am going to read you a book. When we’re done with the book, we’re all going to write about the new places you want to go this year.”
Sam opens a book and begins to read…
“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose…And when you're alone there's a very good chance you'll meet things that scare you right out of your pants. There are some, down the road between hither and yon, that can scare you so much you won't want to go on…You will come to a place where the streets are not marked. Some windows are lighted. But mostly they're darked. A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin! Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in? How much can you lose? How much can you win?... Out there things can happen, and frequently do, To people as brainy and footsy as you. And when things start to happen, don't worry, don't stew. Just go right along, you'll start happening too!... You can get so confused that you'll start in to race down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space, headed, I fear, toward a most useless place. The Waiting Place…And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed! (98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.)…KID, YOU'LL MOVE
MOUNTAINS! You're off to Great Places! Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting.
So...get on your way!”
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Sam closes the book and studies each student in turn. The class is quiet with looks of wonderment, curiosity, and contemplation etched on each of their young faces.
“I want you to know how excited I am to be your teacher this year! You will all have a wonderful journey this year. You have brains in your heads and shoes on your feet to take you places. There will be things this year that you might find hard or difficult.
But I’m here, right now, to tell you that you can do it. You can meet the challenges that face you with bravery and courage. You might even find yourself in ‘weirdish’ places where we have to wait and let our brains grow a bit more before you understand things…and that’s okay. I want you to just keep your heads up and keep going. Because we are off to great places! In nine months, you will all be different. You will all be a bit taller and your personalities will be even bigger! You will all make new friends and be better friends. But, we’re also going to stuff a lot of knowledge into your heads. You will learn new skills with reading and math and writing. You’ll be able to do things you didn’t even know were possible! I will be here the whole time to guide and help you. I’m so excited to get to know all of you and see you grow into the students I know you can become. So, who’s ready to join me on this 3rd grade adventure?”
Twenty-eight inspired hands shoot into the air.
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The May Before. Flashes Forward to Day Before the First Day of School in August
Sam turns the ignition key and the car engine gives its characteristic lurch and shutter as it reluctantly shuts off. She closes the GPS app on her phone and turns off her ringer. Sam looks into her rear mirror and notices a smudge of mascara. She grabs a tissue and dabs under her eyes. She opens her console and pops a tic-tac. Looking at the car clock, she takes a few deep breaths and takes in the large building in front of her across the large parking lot. Sam decides that Alfred Burrows Elementary School has a pleasant look to it. A large concrete path is flanked on either side by flower gardens and shrubs with new mulch. The path leads to a modern two story structure made of rose and red brick, broken up by the occasional classroom window. The main entrance is comprised of a series of glass panels that surround the door and marches up to form a glass room above the atrium that allows natural light to pass into the building.
Sam gathers her new black leather work bag filled with interview essentials; tissues, floss, tic-tacs, and her teaching portfolio. She smiles softly as she retrieves the brown leather bound portfolio. Embossed on the cover of the portfolio were the words,
“Teach, Inspire, & Grow!” followed by her name, Ms. Samantha Sullivan. Her mind flips back a couple of weeks earlier, sitting in IHOP with her younger brother, Charlie. A college freshman, Charlie certainly didn’t have deep pockets, but he was always generous with Sam, especially after the events of the past year with their mom. She had been pleasantly surprised when he produced the gift between mouthfuls of pancakes. Sam flips open the binder to reexamine her interview materials for the hundredth time that morning. The binder contains a carefully crafted series of documents that highlight
Sam’s student teaching experiences in the classroom: lesson plans, letters of reference,
155 samples of student work, and other artifacts that she had practiced using in her numerous mock university interviews.
Sam glances at the clock in her car. She has a few extra minutes, so she flips to the front of her portfolio. Tucked into one of the many pockets of the portfolio is a laminated copy of a Calvin and Hobbes cartoon. The cartoon is split into three separate panels. The three panels show Calvin on the curb of the street, holding a lunch box with a torrent of rain falling over his rain slicker and rubber boots. In the first panel, Calvin states, “Why in the world am I waiting in the pouring rain for the school bus to take me somewhere I don’t even want to go?” The next panel shows a rear shot of a quiet Calvin, staring off into the distance at a large tree as the rain continues to pound down. In the final shot, Calvin states, “I go to school, but I never learn what I want to know.” Sam gives a thin smile of determination as she considers the fictional boy’s reflection.
The car door opens and a small chime sounds. Sam rounds to the rear door and retrieves her green blazer from its metal hanger. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices something white fluttering from the sleeve. She rolls her eyes as she carefully detaches a tag still pinned to the suit sleeve. The tag reads, “Washable.” Great, that would have made some first impression at an interview! She places the tag in the pocket of her slacks and slowly makes her way into the building.
* * *
“So, Ms. Sullivan, why do you want to teach?” Mr. Frey, the building principal asks.
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“While my mother was alive, she was an elementary teacher,” Sam begins. She sits smartly in a conference room, which was probably used for various types of meetings. “We grew up in a single parent home and she was a fiercely independent woman. I developed an understanding of the rhythm of how schools work. We would sit around at dinner, often waiting to hear about what funny things happened to my mom at school. I remember one specific time where my mom had been working with a student who hated tests. At the end of a math test, the student wrote a note to his teacher, ‘I hate these math testes!’ Although that’s a bit off color, it was a snapshot of his thinking. She was able to teach this child about malapropisms, a big word for a developing mind. That spark of humor was what ignited their relationship. That’s what education is…taking the desires and interests of students and then exploring into new intellectual territories together. To answer your question, I believe teaching young minds is a privileged venture. I believe it’s a teacher’s honor to fuel passion, provide a contagious enthusiasm, and animate curiosity. It’s a journey that I want to take with students. That is why I want to teach.”
Sam begins organizing her shelves, placing books in order of reading level.
“How do you work with students that have challenging behavior?”
“I understand that challenging behaviors are inevitable in the classroom. We are working with young minds that are in the process of developing. My priority as a teacher is to build connections with my students. If I can show I care, then they will be willing to work hard and grow. If they find that I care and understand their challenges, I can out-
157 teach behavior. It’s a mindset, really. Behavior is an opportunity. It’s…communication.
It gives me a doorway into understanding the heart and mind of a child, their fears and needs. Sometimes I think behavior can be a sign of something wrong with the teaching going on the classroom. This is where observation and critical self-reflection can be one of our greatest assets. How might our teaching and our expectations be contributing to a student’s behavioral challenges? If we can begin answering this question, then we put ourselves at an advantage for teaching the behaviors we want to see.”
Sam is at her desk, the hum of the air conditioner working to keep up with the
August heat. Her head is craned over a curriculum guide.
“What challenges do you expect you will encounter as a teacher?” Mr. Frey asks.
“I think we see students become less excited about their education beginning in third grade. The joy of being a student begins to wain as the academic rigor continues to increase. It’s our job as educators to nurture an attitude of learning. We can rob students of that natural enthusiasm by failing to be learners ourselves. We must model and value that attitude of learning and a passion for academic things. We have to show students that we are excited to be at school ourselves. This starts with operating from a well- developed personal vision and philosophy.”
Sam begins to place name tags on desks.
“And what is that personal vision and philosophy?
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“I want the learning that occurs in my classroom to provide students with tools they can use for the rest of their lives. I want them to know that third grade is going to be their time to flourish. It’s a time of exploration, of adventure, of new horizons. Mr. Frey, we have to win worlds for these kids. We have to win their world. For some students, it’s up to us to show them what their lives can be like. We can provide them with a vision for the future that’s full of hope…it’s a hope that all things are possible. Last school year is done…. yesterday is done. Tomorrow is new and it is waiting for them to grab ahold of.
It’s an empty page that is waiting to be written on. Tomorrow is a new day, with no mistakes in it yet…the possibilities are all there just waiting to be had.”
Sam attaches Josiah’s name tag to his desk.
END
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Chapter 5: Analysis and Conclusion
Introduction
How does one begin again after an ending? How can I pick up the stumbling prose of Sam and Josiah’s story and set it a flight, to rupture our assumptions about instruction, students, categories of disability, special education, culture, and societal structures? How do we begin to unravel the complexities of moral reasoning, politics, ethics, and humanness all bound up in a web of institutional history and practice? As I grope and strain for answers, I begin to notice. That is, I begin to see that the act of searching and asking has sparked a transformative process inside me, where my identity has altered into that of “searcher” and “creator” rather than just a “receiver” of answers on this long road of improving praxis. This process of remembering, thinking, asking, hoping, and writing has changed my posture and approach towards teachers and students.
Their life narratives tell about us as much as it tells about them. As this story has changed me, I hope that Oh, the Places You Will Go! will exist as at least a footnote in your own story as you consider classroom teachers, students, and the challenges that exist in a broken world filled with darkness and hope, light and compassion, shattered souls, and skilled healers.
To conclude this study, the teachers whose stories helped shape Oh, The Places
You Will Go! were invited to read the completed novella and then participate in a focus group to uncover their interpretations and analyses of the narrative. Through participation in a focus group, these teachers were asked to reflect and ponder about what happened to
Sam and Josiah and then link the story back to their own experiences through a series of
160 conversation starters. The focus group gave them the right to confirm (or deny) the reconstruction of their memories in story form as derived from our earlier interviews.
Despite my efforts to pull thoughts and reflections from the focus group participants, the teachers struggled with responding to the conversation starters. At times, the participants seemed lost, unable to escape the same void of powerlessness that
Sam encountered in the narrative. This intangible aspect of the conversation seemed to hinder the participants from deriving meaning from the story or their own experiences.
Additionally, as the focus group occurred remotely during the COVID-19 pandemic, connecting on a personal level was challenging due to the digital format of the conversation. Although these variables limited the effectiveness of the focus group, I still found value in some of the exchanges. As such, I include some of the teacher participant comments here in the final chapter, but also engaged in my own further reflection to surface meaning from Oh, the Places You Will Go.
Similar to my process with the initial interview transcripts, I read the focus group transcripts several times, writing numerous analytic memos, and linking my thoughts to theory when possible. At other times, I just freely wrote whatever came to mind, chasing rabbits and sometimes finding diamonds in the rough that, that upon deeper reflection, spoke to the unsettled cracks and fissures of my own practice as a school psychologist.
Rather than using a rigorous coding process to analyze the focus group transcript and create this last chapter, I simply used guiding questions that included: “What does this novella mean?” “How does this novella link to the world of the teachers and classrooms?” and “What do we do about all of this?” All along, I looked at my own experiences, interweaving my history into the final analysis and conclusions into broad
161 categories of morality, ethics, and politics. However, I first begin this concluding chapter with an argument regarding the necessity of Oh, The Places You Will Go!
Memory and Forgetting: Why We Need Josiah and Sam’s Story
Yeah, as I was reading the story, what Sam was going through…all that stuff with
Josiah kept coming up in my brain. I kept thinking about those other kids….and I
just imagined that Sam needed that magic Men in Black wand where everybody
just magically forgets how bad the day was. And that's kind of how I was reading
that story, wishing that wand was there…
-Michael, High School Teacher
In Connerton’s (2008) essay on memory and forgetting, he writes about seven different types of acts or motivations that cluster together under the term “to forget.” In
Connerton’s view, forgetting can be as much a virtue as remembering, although forgetting must serve practical functions for it to be beneficial. Connerton suggests that humiliated silence is a type of forgetting that exists at civic, institutional, and personal levels. Connerton (2008) notes:
Confronted with a taboo, people can fall silent out of terror or panic or because
they can find no appropriate words…. some acts of silence may be an attempt to
bury things beyond expression and the reach of memory; yet such silencings,
while they are a type of repression, can at the same time be a form of survival,
and the desire to forget may be an essential ingredient in that process of survival.
(p. 68)
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The events of Oh the Places You Will Go! are universal for school districts but exist mostly within an eloquent but collusive silence within educational discourse. The teachers in this study had not spoken so openly about these specific experiences to anyone else before this study. This desire to forget experiences with students like Josiah may continue as a humiliated repression as discussing one’s own mental health in
Western societies continues to exist as a cultural taboo. However, this silence also may be partially explained by each teacher’s lack of opportunity or ability to process these events collectively with colleagues.
For Sam, we see her grapple with the act of remembering and forgetting as
Josiah’s behaviors intensified throughout the school year, culminating in an epic and emotional breakdown within the parking lot of an alternative school. After she steps into her car, she comes face to face with a series of memories that she can no longer repress, conceal, or rationalize. These memories stir up intense feelings of frustration, anger, guilt, and shame, compressing and molding her identity as both a person and a classroom teacher. As the grief overtakes her, she reviews her actions over the past year, re- experiencing them anew. In that moment, Sam registers that becoming a classroom teacher means facing the desperation, chaos, victimization, and pain that is so often moored to children as they exit the school bus each morning. This pain cannot be divorced from Sam’s personal circumstances such as the recent grief of losing her mother, her isolation, and the subsequent change of circumstances with her family that occurred off the page. In that moment, Sam’s existence is a Nietzschean collection of historical analysis, where her consciousness surfaces to a “…restless gathering up of everything that one was, so that man envelopes himself in an odour of decay” (Nietache,
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1957 as cited by Connerton, 2008). Although the emotional breakdown in the parking lot of the alternative school was perhaps the height of her expressed emotions in the novella, this breakdown sounded as an echo of all the happenings of the past school year.
Michael’s comment regarding a “magic forgetting wand,” speaks to the desire to forget emotional events and the subsequent trauma that occurred within classrooms like
Sam’s. Indeed, many people who experience an intense trauma work to repress these experiences (Hulbert & Anderson, 2018), and children are particularly impacted by trauma as they do not possess the coping strategies that are necessary to begin surviving the effects of traumatic experiences (Bartlett & Smith, 2019). Although there exists a desire to forget these events due to shame or humiliation, the ability to forget for these teachers is limited due to the intensive emotional qualities of these memories (Hill-
Jackson, 2018). To add insult to injury, their respective school districts and the greater community often functionally forget these children, especially if they are placed in a private, off-campus alternative school (Hoge & Rubinstein-Avila, 2014).). Like the teachers in this study, many educators continue to teach and instruct, as the exigencies of the next student and class present themselves anew. They often carry these memories as burdens, without the ability to share or manage them with help from another or even reflect and learn from what occurred.
What then is the moral duty for educators like Sam regarding memory, remembering, and retelling these significant events? Palmer (2017) notes in his book,
The Courage to Teach: Exploring the Inner Landscape of a Teacher’s Life, that, “As I teach, I project the condition of my soul onto my students, my subject, and our way of being together” (p. 2). That is, a teacher’s identity and inner life become a tangible
164 presence within the classroom. However, the interactions are reciprocal, whereas students’ lives can become enmeshed and entangled with that of their teachers. As a teacher, Sam has entered Josiah’s world of hurt and pain, receiving and sharing his yoke of trauma, desperation, and hopelessness. The upshot is that Sam is forever altered and changed by her time spent with Josiah, whether she confines the memory of her first year of teaching to a shadow world of forgetting, or not. Regardless of the pain experienced from these memories, potentially forgetting Josiah may come at a steep cost for Sam.
Palmer (2017) continues, “…If I am willing to look at that mirror and not run from what I see, I have a chance to gain self-knowledge— and knowing myself is as crucial to good teaching as knowing my students and my subject” (p. 2). Although it may be tempting to maintain silence in the wake of a tragedy like Sam’s story, teachers need to give voice to these experiences to bring about personal and institutional healing, reflect on practice and instruction, improve access and availability of resources, and to make sure students like
Josiah are not lost in a tangled web of special education law and procedure.
In her opening remarks regarding collective memory and justice, Mersky (2016) contends that wounds of the past remain unhealed because they remain buried, unspoken, overlooked, or even negated. Bringing these wounds to the surface as a collective memory provides an opportunity to relive the events with the support and insight of others. However, not only does Sam benefit from this surfacing of memory, but others, too, such as special education director, Dr. Higgins, or Mr. Frey, and even Josiah’s mother, Mrs. Robb. To remember is to ensure the hurts of the past do not simply exist in a netherworld of tragedy but are used to build a more just and compassionate world for families, teachers, and students.
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Politics: School Community, Hegemonic Reproduction, and Power Differentials
We had a lot of parent pushback the year…for the one that was removed to the
alternative school. We had a lot of pushback from the community. We even had
pushback from a mom [of another student] in this student’s homeroom. She was
an aide in our building, and she was not happy. She was seeing a lot more of [the
behavior] firsthand, knowing what her daughter was going through in the
classroom. And it was not only her, but we had a lot of other parents…these
parents were pushing back hard… we definitely felt a lot of pressure and it was
evident that other parents wanted him gone.
- Tara, Fourth Grade Teacher
-
In Tara’s example, she describes a nexus of power operators, where parents and even a school staff member band together to achieve a targeted result for the ED identified student in Tara’s classroom. Whether it was the aide who served as an internal informant for other parents or else student reports regarding the daily episodes within the classroom, the community slowly acquired a knowledge of the ED identified student and the consequential impact of his behavior on others. Like the Foucauldian notion that knowledge is an instrument of power (Foucault, 1975), these school community members used their knowledge of the classroom situation to communicate dissatisfaction and to separate their Josiah from their own children. The alternative school placement decision for the ED identified student in Tara’s classroom and Josiah were of course the result of a plethora of circumstances, but both these placement decisions were in part a result of a complex struggle for control on behalf of the greater school community.
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What drives communities towards attempting to forward an agenda about a student like Tara’s? Public school systems are embedded within the unique norms and values of their communities, including different notions of justice and morality. Yet in
Western society, the cultural process of education is focused largely on the individual student, which privileges personal goals, the development of self, self-esteem, and competition, serving the interests of capitalism and the reproduction of social stratification (Hill, 2009). This intersection of Sam’s middle-class background and
Josiah’s traumatic upbringing shows the clash of cultural values between school and student, a balance of power that is maintained through the domination of individualism.
Sullivan, Landau, Kay, and Rothschild’s (2012) work on collectivism and suffering offer insight into how individualistic and collectivist cultural milieus serve as starting points for school communities and their use of power for situations like Josiah’s. They note:
Collectivists tend to see themselves as inescapably embedded in a network of
social relationships and as part of a greater social whole. Conversely,
individualists have a default independent self-construal based on an atomistic
understanding of the self, meaning they tend to see themselves in terms of their
personal (rather than group) identities and consider most of their social
relationships potentially dissoluble. (p. 1025)
The backdrop of Josiah’s story was the individualistic cultural structure, which pitted the needs of the majority against the education of one. Like Josiah, the student in Tara’s classroom lost the rights and privileges typically provided to students by virtue of his behavior. His rights to entry and access to the classroom were slowly whittled away
167 throughout the school year, at least partially through the political force exerted by the school community.
Despite, these general considerations, there was also another facet of power that deserves mentioning contained within the pages of Oh, The Places You Will Go! This, of course, is the power exerted by the administrator, Mr. Frey. Mr. Frey’s attention was directed towards numerous variables that he was attempting to control, some of which remained hidden throughout the novella. Oplatka (2010) contends that one of the principal’s chief roles is marketing their school to the greater community. According to
Oplatka (2010), school districts remain both complicit and incentivized to develop and maintain a particular type of student population through “promotion, impression management, and persuasion” ( p. 210). Furthermore, neoliberalist conventions demand that schools use image management and marketing strategies to legitimize their reputation as quality institutions that provide rich educative experiences for children.
Whereas marketing employs techniques to bring a message to a particular targeted population, branding serves as a function of clarifying and distinguishing what a product is, preserving the essence of a good or service, and ensuring the experience of the service
(Heaton, 2011). In an era of increased accountability and public scrutiny, districts are incentivized to preserve or improve their brand by increasing their performance on published accountability measures such as the district’s report card. In Mr. Frey’s estimation, Josiah, Sam, Mrs. Sanders, and Mrs. Robb were all liabilities that impacted his reputation as a school leader, siphoning his time away from other academic initiatives, as he sought to preserve or improve his school’s brand. Given the pressures
Mr. Frey experienced from the school community at large to present a quality education
168 experience, he had no choice but to make his best efforts to control and manipulate Sam during Josiah’s time at Alfred Burrows Elementary School and eventually contend for
Josiah placement in an alternative school.
Indirectly, Michael provides an anecdote towards addressing these functions of power, particularly as it pertained to Mrs. Robb:
I personally think there should be more joint decisions going on. I’ve seen too
many meetings on both sides, like during that incident in that chapter with the
advocate… I was trying to figure out who the villain was. At first, I was on Sam’s
side and then I began to see the side of the mom and that whole thing…it’s her
son we’re talking about and I understood that she felt unheard…
-Michael, High School Teacher
Although a character that experiences a heavy degree of marginalization, Josiah’s mother was not altogether powerless throughout the narrative. Little is known about the background of Josiah and his mother before he enrolled at Alfred Burrows Elementary
School. As such, we must look through the gaps within the story to infer Mrs. Robb’s use of power as she strove to control the educational outcome and placement for her son, primarily using two strategies. First, Josiah’s mother provided few details regarding
Josiah’s background to the school district. Whether Mrs. Robb’s lack of trust was due to her interactions with Josiah’s previous school district, fear of some type of recrimination, her own experiences as a student, or else some other family matters that were too private or sensitive to divulge, Sam and the school had very little information in which to contextualize Josiah’s behavior. Regardless of her specific motives or reasoning, Mrs.
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Robb did not share any background information about Josiah to impact educational planning, an experience I have frequently had during my own career as a school psychologist.
Second, Josiah’s mother also added a special education advocate to balance the weight of power and to make up for a lack of expert knowledge that is necessary for understanding special education law and procedures. This aspect of the story was derived from my personal experiences regarding student placement in an alternative school. Why might Mrs. Robb have employed the use of an educational advocate in this instance? The educational structures, content, and processes embedded within special education law are expansive, and parents have much to learn when their child begins their special education journey. As noted by Scheurich (1997), “…schools are strongly influenced by the inequitable distribution of knowledge, power, and resources in society and schools reproduce these same inequalities within their policies and practice” (p.8). In addition to having little knowledge about special education law, Mrs. Robb struggled to meaningfully participate in the special education process, due to a lack of so-called soft skills such as negotiating group dynamics, verbalizing thoughts through strategic thinking, and using effective negotiation tactics. The power balance was further exasperated with the composition of the IEP team being heavily weighted towards numerous school employees and specialists, which is almost always the case in public schools. These combined factors including the composition of the IEP team, her dearth of specialized knowledge and experience, and her lack of interpersonal acumen with school culture place Mrs. Robb and parents like her at a significant power deficit, despite their right to provide or withhold consent for special education processes and services.
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In his critique of school culture and the dynamic relationships that exist between parents, teachers, and administrators, Sarason (1996) describes how John Dewey:
…understood in amazingly clear way that all those who would be affected by the
educational enterprise should in some way be part of it, not out of consideration
of courtesy or as token gestures to the implications of the legal status of schools,
but because the goals of education would not be met unless they had the support
of diverse constituencies. (p. 294)
Although the proverbial “seat at the table” was offered to Mrs. Robb, her participation would have been rendered ineffectual and mostly symbolic if it were not for her acquisition of a special education advocate. The above policies and processes of disempowerment are difficult to overcome, and without the special education advocate,
Mrs. Robb’s ability to participate in the collective decision would have been further reduced. I am pleased that Josiah’s mother recognized these power differentials and found another skilled person to give her concerns voice. Retrospectively, I imagine that
Mrs. Robb discontinued the meeting and gave in to the alternative school placement, as she recognized that she did not have the material resources, time, or expertise to continue the fight. She was simply out of money to continue paying her hired advocate. Her decision to tell Josiah about the placement decision in front of the IEP team was due to resignation, a symbolic exhaling of the last breath of power she possessed.
Moral Decisions: The Lesser of Two Evils?
What 3rd grade did and all the things they went through…they had to deal with
that particular student all year long without much support at all. But because of
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all their conversations and all the things that they had put in place, we were able
to move fast in fourth grade and make a really tough decision. I'm not sure it was
the best decision. I will never know the answer to that question because it was a
horrific day in itself…when he had to leave. But for the betterment of the rest of
the students…yeah, I think it was the right decision. For him? No, probably not.
And that's the hard part.
- Michelle, 3rd Grade Teacher
Isaac Asimov once famously wrote, “Never let your sense of morality get in the way of doing what’s right” (1983, p. 102). Although seemingly a contradiction, Asimov points to how morality as a project is built on contentious ground and certainly not easily defined as an action, term, or even a theory. There are many such conceptualizations of what constitutes morality, but I posit the following broad idea for morality in this discussion, as described by Kovacheff et. al., (2018):
Our moral compass compels us to keep our baser instincts in check and put our
self-interest aside for the good of the group. As a result, morality directly affects
group-living, and in many ways, positively shapes society. Morally likeminded
individuals band together to form moral communities that adhere to agreed upon
codes of conduct…these codes of conduct function to guide interpersonal
behavior based on mutually understood notions of right and wrong, and in this
way, morality is fundamental to the smooth functioning of society. (pp. 218-219)
Admittedly, like any definition or theory of morality, certain individuals and their circumstances are likely excluded from a moral right they “ought” to receive and further
172 criteria is always necessary when faced with unique moral decisions. Kovacheff et. al.
(2018) also suggest that morality can bring about problems within society, as the absolutist notion of a fundamental or definitive “right” can not only ruin interpersonal relationships but also “…vilify and dehumanize those that disagree with our moral beliefs and we justify any means to a moral end” (p. 219). This tension between meeting the needs of the many and balancing the needs of the few is where we find ourselves in Sam and Josiah’s story and speaks to the broader moral reasoning used when determining alternative school placement for ED identified students.
When considering an alternative school placement decision, members of the IEP teams unconsciously grapple with the ethics of the alternative school placement. In
Michelle’s quote above, she wrestles with whether the decision was just or right. She observed the status quo had to be disrupted due to Josiah’s impact on the classroom but she also rued the decision to place him out of his school community and into an alternative school setting. Teachers I have worked with have also echoed this sentiment, but struggle to give words to why these placement decisions feel so weighty and tragic, fostering feelings of unease.
To highlight the moral qualities of this decision, consider what is referred to as the trolley car problem. In this scenario, a runaway trolly train will kill five victims stuck on a track, unless the agent pulls the lever that diverts the trolly to another track.
Unfortunately, there is one person on the alternative track that loses their life as a result if the agent pulls the lever to save the five. This moral thought experiment runs analogous to the moral dilemma experienced by Josiah’s IEP team: Does the IEP team seek to
173 alleviate the significant disruption to the educational environment by sending Josiah away to the alternative school, or does Josiah stay at Alfred Burrows Elementary School?
To answer this question regarding the ethics of the alternative school placement, I draw on two competing schools of thought within moral philosophy, which are deontological and consequentialist ethics. Using deontological ethics, teachers like Sam must consider if the placement action is right in of itself using a series of values or rules, regardless of the outcome or effect for Josiah or his classmates. In contrast, using consequentialist moral reasoning requires that the IEP team only consider if the outcome itself is morally defensible or brings about a greater good for all. In the case of Michelle, she was torn between balancing the need of the emotional needs of the classroom community verses the educational and emotional needs of the child. Using the trolley scenario as an analog to Josiah’s circumstances, Kaufman (2016) summarizes a principle of Double Effect that helps moral agents weigh intention verses outcome:
…the Doctrine of Double Effect holds that there is a fundamental moral
distinction between an action that involves intending harm to others and an
otherwise permissible action that involves foreseen but not intentional harm to
others. An action involving intentional harm is morally forbidden, but an action
that results in foreseeable but not intentional harm may in certain cases be
permissible. (p. 22)
If we consider the Doctrine of Double Effect for Josiah or the student in Michelle’s class, perhaps the IEP team is morally justified in placing a student in the alternative school after all. But using this type of reasoning, this justification certainly holds more to a
174 consequentialist type of morality and provides only a partial answer to the dilemma of alternative school placement.
Deontologically, asking the question of whether an alternative school placement is morally justified should be the endpoint of a long series of necessary moral choices that occur before an ultimate placement decision. Exploring the moral qualities of the day-to-day decisions for students like Josiah may provide us further clues to understanding the moral rightness of an alternative school placement decision.
Placement for students in an alternative school setting occurs in the wake of countless decisions made by teachers and administrators. Some of these decisions were made far in advance of the child’s matriculation to the community school. Decisions about curriculum, allocation of resources, personnel, discipline procedures, training, professional development foci, and even the architecture of the school determine what type of “space” is available for a student with a diverse or even traumatic background.
To begin analyzing these moral factors, schools should complete a self-assessment of their current educational practices and historical decisions and determine their capacity and priority for including children that exhibit significant behavioral disruption. School districts also need to make social and emotional functioning instruction as much of a priority as reading and math instruction. This requires ongoing training for staff for crisis management, conflict resolution, self-care, emotional wellness, and the creation of mental health partnerships with therapists that are cross-trained as educators.
Finally, even in the case where schools may have implemented best practices with a student identified as ED, classroom teachers must also manage the emotional toll of an alternative school placement. Michelle, the other teacher participants, and Sam all
175 exhibited a degree of self-doubt and perhaps even humiliation regarding their experiences with the student identified as ED. Rather than asking whether or not the placement decision was morally right or if “Did I do enough?”, I encourage teachers to practice giving themselves a healthy measure of grace, as teaching a child like Josiah can potentially be one of the most challenging endeavors a classroom teacher will encounter during the span of their careers. I encourage teachers and other IEP team members who have participated in an alternative school placement to use the following questions as a starting point, and then share their reflections with one or more trusted colleagues:
• Did I provide a just and equitable educational experience for this child and
the other children in this classroom?
• Did I make every attempt to meet the needs of all children, including the
ED identified child’s needs, using all the resources that were available at
our school?
• Did I attempt to broaden my own skills and knowledge as the behavioral
challenges with the child began to increase?
• Did I advocate for this child’s needs and the needs of other children in my
classroom during the school year?
• Did I engage in democratic dialogue with the power brokers at both a
building and (if possible) the district level when I understood our current
resources were inadequate?
• Did I let the prescribed curricular requirements overshadow the unique
educational needs of the children in my classroom?
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• Did I work to build opportunities for the parent to participate in the
educational community?
• Did I listen to the child’s parents and consider their perspectives and
unique histories?
• Did I value the parent and the child as individuals who have rights?
• Did I extend compassion towards all the students and families I serve?
These questions can be used as a starting point for self-assessment, but should be used horizontally through the school building, and vertically throughout the school district. If any of the questions are answered with a “no” then all stakeholders can begin seeking ways to improve their response to disruptive behaviors in a process of continuous improvement.
Final Thoughts: “What Ifs?”
I just loved him from the start and then… stopped loving him because of all the
abuse every day…
Janine, 1st Grade Teacher
Janine’s statement above has haunted me during the entire process of writing the novella, as it speaks to the unravelling of a teacher’s heart in very trying circumstances. I recall when she uttered these words, it seemed that she had momentarily let down her guard, and even surprised herself as she admitted the truth of her feelings. This break in her affection was as devastating for her to admit, as it was for me to hear. As I consider this statement once more, it presses on me to do more and say more as I consider the
177 sequence of tragedies that had pushed Janine to this point. What else can be done to prevent these stories from happening in the future? To provide some final thoughts to this question, I want to pose a few “what ifs?” with respect to some of the major plot points in Sam’s story.
What if Mr. Frey had held a different philosophy pertaining to state report cards or test scores? What if had he deemed that student learning incorporated a whole host of experiences that could not be reflected adequately in the results of an arbitrary state assessment? Obviously, Sam would not have had the added stress of trying to please Mr.
Frey or toiling to meet some impossible expectation pertaining to test results, given the classroom challenges she faced. If Mr. Frey could have put the state assessment results on the backburner, he might have then assumed the role of mentor and encourager, where conversations with Sam could have been constructive, creative, collegial, and solution focused as they worked through how to manage Josiah’s behaviors. As a result, perhaps other teachers in the building may have felt less pressure to “teach to the test”, freeing them up to become members of a community of care that enveloped Sam, her students, and Josiah. Perhaps this focus on compassion could have become a potential offramp, with Josiah existing a seemingly inevitable road towards the alternative school.
Another small but significant plot point that occurred in the narrative was the administration’s reluctance to provide a classroom aide or assistant in the room with Sam.
What if an aide had been reassigned to Sam’s classroom, or else, what if an aide was hired to support Josiah? Afterall, having an extra person in the classroom might have also prevented Josiah’s eventual exit from Alfred Burrows Elementary School. This portion of the story, where the idea of an educational aide was summarily dismissed by
178 an administrator, was derived from my experiences as a school psychologist and the experiences of the teacher participants. The common response by administrators is that there is simply no money in the budget for additional aide support. However, I posit that there is also no guarantee that an aide would have made a significant difference for
Josiah. Educational or instructional aides are traditionally low paying positions that require very little training or education beyond a high school diploma As such, placing an educational aide in a classroom like Sam’s may have not have resulted in a meaningful service to Josiah. Until educational aides are provided more professional esteem, training, education, and pay these positions will continue to be undervalued by administration, and the potential benefit to students like Josiah will remain unrealized.
Another aspect that I want to address from the novella is the devastation that Sam experienced as a first year teacher. What if Sam had been provided the appropriate support to develop her professional skills so that she could manage the dynamics of her classroom more successfully? After all, its widely known that education is hemorrhaging teachers at a rapid pace, as many of the most talented and brightest prospects do not last beyond their fifth year of teaching (Gray, Taie, & O’Rear, 2015). First year teachers are most at risk as they are required to master a great deal of information (i.e., curriculum, procedures, community norms, etc.,) in a short amount of time, draw on unpracticed classroom management techniques, are often isolated from colleagues with the sheer volume of work they have to manage, and are expected to perform at a high level, even on their very first day of teaching. With the addition of a student with significant behaviors, the work of a first year teacher become all the more impossible. Schools vary widely in the types of teacher to teacher mentoring programs that they provide, and many
179 best practices can be found in Aspfors and Fransson (2015). However, across even the local region where I practice school psychology, there are countless teachers who have experienced the same types of challenges that Sam encountered in her first year. I believe that Sam may have felt less vulnerable, more empowered, and had greater success with Josiah if she had been provided an opportunity to regularly meet with other teachers to surface these stories and learn from one another.
Finally, I would like to revisit the harrowing scene in the story where Josiah’s placement was determined by the IEP team. To participate in a meeting like Josiah’s as a public educator is to experience Foucault’s (1977) definition of power, including the notion of coercion, in an almost tangible way. On the one side of the room are the educators who are held accountable by the community or school board or central office administration to make the placement decision. On the other hand, the parent feels the weight of the district doing potential violence to their child, by pushing the student out of the district. Even for parents who are informed, educated, or hold a great deal of cultural capital, the school district remains a force to be reckoned with in these circumstances. In the novella, Mrs. Robb was a single parent, struggled to pay her bills on time, and was unfamiliar with special education processes and law. There was little chance that she would overcome the district’s placement recommendation at the IEP meeting. What if the state provided parents with a neutral special education liaison who’s only role is to educate parents about special education law, procedures, their rights, and how to advocate on behalf of their child? Yes, these individuals do exist in some states but I am suggesting that every parent that has a child identified for special education services have immediate access to a liaison who can guide them through the special education process.
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These individuals would earn degrees that entail coursework in special education law, sociology, multi-culturalism, and conflict resolution. For Mrs. Robb, I imagine that she could have begun work with this liaison beginning the first weeks of school, providing her with resources and training that would allow her to think more critically about the services being offered by the school, communicate to staff more effectively, and develop a more trusting relationship with the district regarding Josiah’s history.
Closing
The purpose of this study was to discover, analyze, and reflect upon the social forces that impact alternative school placement decisions for student identified as ED. I specifically focused on the politics, morality, and ethics found within teacher interview data and my own experiences as a school psychologist, using a novella format to share the findings. Within this novella, I telescoped in on a first year teacher’s personal and professional experiences as she worked to provide rich educational experiences for her students, grow in the craft of teaching, negotiate the complexities of special education, and manage administrative and community power.
In closing, I wonder how Sam will remember Josiah in the wake of the events captured in Oh, The Places You Will Go! Will she shudder at the memories of her first school year, putting these experiences out of mind as she begins preparing for year two of teaching? Or will she smile as she reminisces about Olivia’s lost necklace, Malik’s efforts at delegating his schoolwork to others, or Willa’s comments regarding “old Mrs. Plyer”?
Will Sam mine the school year for memories of Josiah that were positive? Even more important, will Sam begin to develop a critical consciousness about students and their
181 lives? Will she seek do develop a greater cultural awareness about students with backgrounds diverse from her own? Will she begin to see Josiah’s behaviors as existing in resistance to the dominant social forces that plagued his life? Will she begin to identify and counter the institutional forces that exacerbated his behaviors such as a potentially suppressive school curriculum, cultural mismatches that existed within her own pedagogy, or the limited resources offered by her school for situations like Josiah’s? My hope is that Sam finds even deeper reservoirs of compassion in her heart for Josiah, and other students like him that may cross the threshold of her classroom in some future school year, using this compassion to fuel advocacy. I hope her school districts can begin embracing a plurality of students, which entail many ways of seeing students and allow us to “…welcome the cunning assembly that simulates and clamors at the door of knowledge” (Foucault, 1977, p. 168). Finally, I hope we can begin seeing children like
Josiah as valued student-citizens and mirrors to our souls.
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Appendix A: School Administrator Consent Form
Dear Administrator,
My name is Cleighton Weiland and I am a current graduate student in the Educational Leadership program at Miami University. I am also employed by a local school district as a school psychologist. I am conducting research under the supervision of my advisor Dr. Thomas Poetter on exploring teachers’ experiences with determining Least Restrictive Environment for students with Emotional Disturbance. My primary interest is to discover the sociocultural, political, and moral forces involved in placing students with Emotional Disturbance in alternative school settings through the IEP team process.
I am looking for one or more participants in your district for this present study. The participant must have been the teacher of record for one or more students identified as Emotionally Disturbed. This teacher participant must have been included in: • Data collection • Documentation procedures • Conversation with parents and other school staff; and • IEP meetings where the student’s LRE and the potential for placement in an alternative school was discussed.
I will implement my study by conducting one to three digitally recorded 60 minute interviews with the teacher participant. As a participant, they will be asked purposeful questions designed to elicit storied experiences of a student currently or previously identified as ED within their classroom. Additionally, this teacher participant will complete a series of four, one page journal entries per interview and eventually participate in a focus group with four other teachers. The interviews will be no longer than an hour in duration. Also, the focus group will last no more than 90 minutes. The total duration of the study will be approximately nine months. All data will be treated as confidential information, stored in an external hard drive without internet connection. This information will only be accessed by my advisor and myself, and destroyed three years after the data has been analyzed. Additionally, this teacher participant’s involvement is voluntary and contingent upon their ongoing consent.
Due to the sensitive nature of this topic, I have taken extensive steps to design a study that blinds the researcher to specific student data. For example, the raw data for this study will serve as source material to write a novella or a series of short, realistic, authentic, and life-like portrayals of an ED student’s journey as his or her team determines if an alternative school is the LRE. As there will be several different student stories included within the data pool, the ultimate narrative will comprise of composite, fictionalized characters (staff and students alike) constructed from types and motifs. Additionally, no other identifying information (such as the name of the school or school district) will be included within the data collection procedures and document analysis. Although teacher participants may provide explicit events that occurred with one or more students, these events will not be included in the study, but altered to further ensure student anonymity.
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If you have further questions pertaining to design of the study, I would be happy to meet with you to discuss further.
Please note, your district’s participation is voluntary and consent to participate can be withdrawn at any time.
This study could influence future policy and guidelines in the practice of determining the Least Restrictive Environment for students identified as Emotionally Disturbed. It could help serve as a foundation for future studies and give direction to future researchers and educators. The generalized results may be presented at professional conferences or published in articles describing the results of the research. At the end of the study, I will make the results available to you.
If you have further questions about the study, please contact Cleighton Weiland at [email protected], or my advisor, Dr. Thomas S. Poetter at [email protected]. If you have questions about your rights as a research participant, please call the Office of Advancement of Research and Scholarship at 529-3600 or email: [email protected]. This project has IRB approval as required by Miami University research procedures (Protocol ID 01682r).
Thank you for your participation. I am very grateful for your help and hope that this will be an interesting experience for the teacher participants. You may keep this portion of the page. ------Cut at the line, keep the top section and return the bottom section. I agree to consent for the above researcher to contact one or more of the participants I have identified for the study: Exploring teachers’ experiences with identifying the Least Restrictive Environment for students identified as Emotional Disturbed
I understand that (insert district’s name) participation in this study is voluntary and that all data gathered will not be associated with the school district.
Participant’s signature ______Date: ______
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Appendix B: Teacher Participant Consent Form
Dear Participant,
My name is Cleighton Weiland and I am a current graduate student in the Educational Leadership program at Miami University. I am conducting research under the supervision of my advisor Dr. Thomas Poetter on exploring teachers’ experiences with determining Least Restrictive Environment for students with Emotional Disturbance. My primary interest is to explore the sociocultural, political, and moral forces involved in placing students with Emotional Disturbance in alternative school settings through the IEP team process.
As a participant, you will be asked purposeful questions designed to elicit the storied experiences of a student currently or previously identified as ED within your classroom.
I will implement my study by conducting one to three digitally recorded 60 minute interviews with you and collecting written journals of your past experiences. You will be presented with questions during the interview process, but the interview will be an open conversation. The one page journals will provide for further analysis of the classroom setting and insights into your experiences. Each interviews will be no longer than an hour in duration. All data will be treated as confidential information, stored in an external hard drive without internet connection. This information will only be accessed by my advisor and myself, and destroyed three years after the data has been analyzed.
The information from your journal entries and interviews will be used as source materials for a fictional ethnography. After the fictional ethnography is written, you will also be asked to participate in a focus group with several other teachers. The focus group will last no more than 90 minutes in an effort to respond to the fictional narrative. The total duration of the study will be approximately nine months.
All information gathered will be treated as confidential information, stored in a secure location for up to three years after the completion of the study.
Your participation is voluntary and you may withdraw from the session at any time or decline to answer any questions that make you feel uncomfortable. You will not be asked to do anything that exposes you to risks beyond those of everyday life, although you may relive some of the emotions and events that have occurred within your classroom.
This study could influence future policy and guidelines in the practice of determining the Least Restrictive Environment for students identified as Emotionally Disturbed. It could help serve as a foundation for future studies and give direction to future researchers and educators. The generalized results may be presented at professional conferences or published in articles describing the results of the research. At the end of the study, I will make the results available to you.
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If you have further questions about the study, please contact Cleighton Weiland at [email protected], or my advisor, Dr. Thomas S. Poetter at [email protected]. If you have questions about your rights as a research participant, please call the Office of Advancement of Research and Scholarship at 529-3600 or email: [email protected]. This project has IRB approval as required by Miami University research procedures (Protocol ID 01682r).
Thank you for your participation. I am very grateful for your help and hope that this will be an interesting experience for you. You may keep this portion of the page.
------Cut at the line, keep the top section and return the bottom section. I agree to participate in the study of: Exploring teachers’ experiences with identifying the Least Restrictive Environment for students identified as Emotional Disturbed
I understand my participation is voluntary and that my name will not be associated with the data.
Participant’s signature ______Date: ______
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Appendix C: Teacher Interview Questions
“Thank you for agreeing to participate in this interview. A couple of things to please note. First, please use multiple pseudonyms for this student. Although it might seem unnatural, this will preserve the anonymity of the student. Also, if you accidentally mention the student’s name, I won’t know. Second, regardless if this is a student is currently in your classroom or one that you had years ago, please just use present tense. This will further preserve the anonymity of the student. Finally, you have license to slightly embellish or change details of actual events. The purpose of this study is to preserve themes and motifs, not necessarily collect a detailed history.” 1. Tell me a little about yourself, including your educational background and professional experiences. 2. What are your guiding principles or overall philosophy for teaching? 3. What makes teaching rewarding for you? 4. How would you personally define emotional disturbance as a federal category? 5. What experiences have you had in the past with students identified as emotionally disturbed? 6. What background information do you have regarding this student? 7. Describe a typical day with your student who is identified as emotionally disturbed. 8. What challenges and surprises have you experienced with this particular student? 9. What strengths have you observed for this student? 10. How do you feel your classroom environment impacts this student? For example, how does the day’s schedule, presence of other peers, the rules and procedures of your classroom, and the content of the curriculum effect this student’s behavior or emotions? 11. Have there been critical incidents with this student that has impacted the learning of other students or the safety of others? 12. Can you recount any salient interactions or conversations that you have had with this student? 13. Please describe this student’s relationships with peers in the classroom. 14. Have the other parents of students in the classroom approached you with concerns about this student’s behavior? 15. What has your interactions with your administrator been in respect to this student? 16. How do you teach this student differently than you might teach another general education student? 17. What is your interaction with this student’s parents like? How might their decisions as a parent, impact this student’s learning in your classroom? 18. What do you know about alternative school settings for students with significant behavior and emotional needs? 19. Did you participate in an IEP meeting for this student? What do you remember about this meeting?
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20. Do you feel this student has significant needs that require an alternative school setting? 21. What governs your internal decision making process for determining the placement of a student in an alternative setting? 22. What do you guess is the best possible educational outcome for this student, given his or her challenges? 23. How do you feel about the real possibility of this student never returning to his/her home district after potentially being placed in an alternative school? 24. What advantages and disadvantages do you perceive regarding this student’s possible placement in an alternative school? 25. How do you feel this student’s life might be changed if he or she is placed in an alternative school?
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Appendix D: Teacher Focus Group Questions
1. Were there aspects of the narrative that resonated with you on a personal or professional level? In what ways? 2. Think about the situation you encountered in your classroom and the similarities that you saw within this narrative as you interpret the following questions: What did you think were the greatest challenges for Sam during her school year? What did resources or support did she need to be more successful with her class, Josiah, and her colleagues/administration? What did Josiah need to be more successful with behavior and curriculum? What supports did the parent seem to need? 3. With your knowledge of special education, what types of changes could be made to make the overall process of identification, instruction, IEP meetings, and alternative placements more humane for students, parents, teachers, and administrators? 4. If school budgets were unlimited, what tools and supports would you recommend for a student like Josiah or the student you had in your classroom? Think about space, personnel, new types of licenses or skills sets, new pedagogical skills, etc. 5. What type of care should be available to other students and classroom teachers when they are faced with a situation like yours or the story in the novella? 6. What is holding us back from making our teacher and student supports more of a priority for situations similar to what was presented in this novella? What existing structures in school (curriculum, class size, culture, other parents, etc.) hinder an ED identified child from being successful in a traditional school setting?
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