The first one that comes to mind....
1. They wipe kids' butts.
I mean, seriously, is that in the job description? I doubt it. But they do it anyways. Plus, after the butt is clean, they have crappy underwear to take care of. Who specializes in Underwear Rinsing? Not these people. It's just one of the perks of the job.
2. They don't get a lunch break.
Because when they sit down in a miniature chair to open their lunchbox on the miniature table, across the room ten kids are screaming and/or throwing themselves or their chairs on the floor in protest of their GFCF (tasteless) lunch.
3. They wear their
If you consider that each Lysol wipe kills 1,000 germs, and each container has 100 wipes, the obligatory two Lysol containers I sent could have killed about 200,000 germs. Factor in each of the ten snotty cesspools whose sneezes deliver 100,000 germs at 100 miles per hour and I'm pretty sure we were behind in the germ race twenty minutes into the first day of school in the fall. Plus, kids who can't really communicate have a little trouble understanding the whole elbow-sneeze technique. Ever heard of hand-over-hand prompting? Only if you have plenty of germ-x.
4. They brush ten sets of teeth a day.
Do I even need to describe a scene where ten children who don't like sensory stimulation are getting their teeth brushed at once? Actually I can't describe it, because I can't fathom it. One is enough for me. Does every special education classroom even do this? Probably only the really awesome ones. (Ahem... Mrs. Boyer's class.)
Patience is... teaching a kid who can't say a fluent sentence how to write his name. Amazing. |
People think I have a lot of patience, but the truth is when the going gets tough, I can always pop in a Pixar movie and hand out Little Debbies for a few minutes of peace with a Nicholas Sparks book. Special education teachers don't have that luxury. They're on their toes all day. While other teachers are worrying about finding popsicle sticks for a pinterest craft, special education teachers are worrying about being ready for a seizure, or an emotional mom at an IEP meeting. When most teachers are prepping for a summer of freedom from the crazy kids that have been driving them nuts since Spring Break, special education teachers are prepping for summer school or social skills groups, or new classroom strategies to try in the Fall. And at the end of the day, when they are exhausted and worn out, tired of crappy pants and screaming kids and collecting data and documenting behaviors, they still find the time to write a note to say your kid was a "rock star" (miss you Gentri =) ) plus three incident reports from your kid banging their head on the floor/desk/wall.
And all the meanwhile, I'm afraid they aren't realizing how incredibly important they are in the lives of so many families.
So in lieu of the kids in class who are sensory avoiding and don't offer bear hugs each morning, or for the kids who are language delayed and can't express their gratitude for all you do, or even for the kids who just hate your stinking guts because you make them say words before you let them have their snack...
Thank you.
From the bottom of our hearts.
Disclaimer: This post was not intended to make any special education teachers cry. If however, this occurs, it is only fair. You make us cry at every milestone, every note of awesomeness, every IEP meeting, and every therapy bill.
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