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Danny was a pre-k student in my self-contained class for special students.
Even with limited ability and orthopedic obstacles, he tugged at my heart.
As I struggled with the decision of which children would travel with me to
our new kindergarten inclusion program, I worried that Danny would be
difficult for even the most open- minded kindergarten teacher. Besides his
obvious problems, Danny offered behavioral challenges. He would turn his
head and refuse to work when you sat down with him. He often spit at his
"friends," stuck out his tongue, and was heard to call them "potty head" and
"poopy pants." To make matters even worse, he was not completely toilet
trained.
I decided that the best solution for Danny was to leave him in the pre-k
class for another year instead of bringing him to the kindergarten inclusion
class. However, as the pre-k class filled, it was obvious that Danny needed
to be moved into a class of his kindergarten peers. He was much larger than
the little ones, and his behavior was deteriorating. He was becoming a
bully. With great apprehension, we decided that Danny would stay with me
throughout the day in the inclusive settings. He would go with me to each of
the three inclusion classes which would give me a chance to really shape his
behavior. I would be right there when the disruptions began. I steeled
myself for what was to come. I was ready for the challenge.
When Danny and I first walked into the inclusion kindergarten teacher's
class, she was very open and welcoming, already having explained to the
class about Danny's braces and obvious awkwardness. She taught Danny to say
"excuse me" as he maneuvered through the room bumping into people using his
peers' heads and shoulders to balance. The special education assistant in
the class immediately took Danny under her wing. To my surprise and
pleasure, she asked eager questions about how to best teach him. She adapted
regular kindergarten skills and worked with him in a tender and caring way.
After that hour each day, he traveled with me to each of the other two
classes. In each class, teachers and students were open and friendly.
Several asked Danny why he couldn't "walk right," and he'd pull up his pants
and show them his braces. I kept waiting for the old behavioral patterns to
reappear. I was sure this delightful little boy that I now saw was on a
honeymoon period and that, sooner or later, his problems with peers would
resurface. I waited and waited. . . and waited. When the kindergarten
teacher suggested that I let Danny spend the day with her class, I was very
reluctant. I was sure that as soon as I was out of his sight, she would be
reporting that he was throwing sand in children's faces, calling them names,
and sticking his tongue out at adults. Besides, who would change him if he
had an accident? She assured me that they would be fine.
Each day as I started my day in Danny's class I was amazed at the
transformation in him. He quickly learned his colors, a skill I had worked
on with him for the entire previous year. He never had a potty accident. He
sat in group with the assistant at his side listening attentively most of
the time. Although his ability to maneuver continued to deteriorate, his
fine motor skills showed improvement as the teachers and the other children
praised his efforts. The most miraculous improvements were in Danny's
behaviors. He watched the other children and quickly learned that his old
behaviors were unacceptable in this class, so he modeled the new behaviors
that he saw. After several months, our Child Study Team decided that Danny
needed a class for orthopedically impaired children so that they could
better address his deteriorating gross motor skills. He would get therapy
twice weekly in his new class which we could not provide in our setting. His
tearful mother said how much she hated to move him because he had developed
such a crush on his new kindergarten teacher. Even she genuinely hated to
see him go! I relate this story because of the lessons that I learned from
it.
1. Never underestimate special children. They will rise to the occasion and
will model the good behaviors that they see in their peers.
2. Never underestimate kindergartners. They will accept children with
differences, especially if their teachers model the way.
3. Never underestimate the hearts of teachers. They will see children first
and handicaps second, if you give them the chance.
4. Never expect the worst. It's just as easy to expect the best.
Danny has left our class now, but the lessons that I learned from him will
be with me always. I am more dedicated than ever to this inclusion model
which gave Danny a chance for one of the most normal experiences of his
life.
Reprinted with permission from
Inclusion...Yours, Mine, Ours
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School systems are responsible for assuring that transition planning becomes
a component of the IEP beginning at age 14; however, it may be necessary to
start transition planning much earlier in order to allow the student to
achieve meaningful post-school outcomes. (From the Georgia Department of
Education's Transition Manual) Read more about the topic in the
Roadmap
Transition section. |
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