Dad on Duty #78

So, what exactly are we here to teach?

This is an elementary school, after all.

The Three R’s?   Sure, that seems obvious.  We should teach that. And we’re well prepared and extremely competent at that.  Check that off; done.

Social skills?   Well, that seems a little trickier.  But, ok….probably within our grasp.  After all, we have them for about 8 hours a day, in a socially diverse setting rich with social learning opportunities.  So, it seems to make sense for us to spend time on this important issue.

Problem is, traditionally trained educators receive relatively little instruction and experience in this subject. I know; I’m a traditionally trained educator.

A good analogy might be; you’ve been hired at a company as a payables clerk and you’re well trained for that. But in reality, most of the problems you encounter are with the copiers and printers, jamming and malfunctioning.  So, you are called upon to tackle that.  To the extent that copier and printer issues occupy about 50% of your time.  Hmmm….this doesn’t seem to be going well.  Wonder why?

We have a handful of SPED teachers, and (now, new to us) a real live LPC counselor, who have extensive training in the teaching of social skills. The administrators and a couple other teachers have significant additional training on this issue. The rest of the teachers have the same as me; one class (if that).  And I don’t know about them, but I didn’t do that well in that particular class.

But, we have smart, empathetic people.  It’s ugly, and exhausting, and inefficient….but we do it.

Consider this issue largely handled.

Ethics and Morals?   Oh s#$%.  Now you did it.

Who’s job is it, to teach ethics and morals?

Well, that seems obvious;  Mom and Dad.

But what if they lack the skills to teach it?  Or they are absent?  Even more complicated, what if their morals and ethics don’t fit community expectations?

This is almost never a binary event.  In many cases, parents (or, to complicate things further, surrogates) have imparted some measure and form of ethics and morals to the kid.

It just might not be to your liking.

There is no way to avoid the subject; teachers are constantly confronted with ethical and moral challenges. Whether it’s stealing a classmate’s snack, lying about homework or cutting in line, the school day is rife with moral missteps.

And I think we all agree that we want them addressed.   We just don’t agree on exactly how.

So teachers are left to make that call, based on their personal moral compass and belief system.  There’s really no way around it.

Are we handling this issue?   I’d say “sorta”.

Which brings us to our next challenge:

Mental illness?

So you thought ethics and morals was a can of worms.  This right here, honey, is a barrel of King Cobras. 

Mental illness is a continuum.  And truth be told, we all have some form of it.  In the same way that we all have some level of physical dysfunction.

Like all the rest of society, our student population includes kids with anxiety, anger, depression and poor socialization skills.  At school those dysfunctions are often concentrated and magnified by separation from parents, social influences and academic pressures.

Kids are different at school. Sometimes they’re better, sometimes they’re not.

These kids are no different than your co-workers who have out of proportion responses to conflicts, occasionally display anti-social behavior or have bouts of depression.  They belong here in the mainstream with us, but they need additional help in order to succeed.

And if we can help them now, in these formative years, we have a good shot at improving their functionality as adults.

But….who is going to do that in elementary school?   Care to guess how much behavioral management and child psychology training an elementary education major gets?  In general, enough to know they need a LOT more…..

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I walk back into the office, headed to the bathroom (I drink a lot of tea).  As I approach the “In School Suspension” desk, I see two pairs of legs sticking out from underneath, blocking my way to the tea-unloading-zone.

I decide peeing can wait a minute.

However a Biomet hip lawyer was The legs belong to the two bosses. Both women are prone on the floor of the office, talking with a scholar that is hiding as far back under the desk as possible.

Let that image soak in for a minute.  This comprises a significant portion of their day, everyday.

They stay there, looking like two soldiers crawling across a field under fire, for a long, long time.  Finally, they assuage whatever debilitating emotion the scholar is experiencing, and talk him out of his cave.

And the A/P escorts him back to class, for what is unlikely to be a normal rest of the day.

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As I walk by the entrance to the gym, I see a first grader sitting by herself, scrunched up in a ball against the wall.  I go engage her.

“Whatcha doing here?”  Her class is in PE, and the rest of the kids are running around the gym.

She proceeds to describe a pretty minor insult.

I talk with her about how she can control her emotional reaction to stuff like this; it doesn’t have to make her feel like this.

She says “I know.  I don’t want to fix it. I want to feel this way”.

I am at a complete loss.  I have no idea how to respond to that.

As her class starts to exit, I talk with her teacher.  She’s pretty dumbfounded too.  We need help.

And so does she.  More than we can offer.

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I’m patrolling the big kid floor, and find a boy sitting at a desk by himself, in the hallway.  His disruptive behavior has earned him exile, but not quite a trip to the office.

He has math work spread out before him.  He glances up at me, then looks back at his work.

He seems lost, and lonely, and more than a little defeated.

My heart creaks a bit.

I ask if he needs help with the assignment.  He thinks for a moment, then nods.

I crouch down with him and we work several problems together. He does quite well, and glows in response to the praise and acknowledgement.

But he is one of 24 kids in his class, and there is only one teacher.  There is no spare manpower for a one-on-one session.  And we haven’t even begun to unlock the underlying cause for his behavior.

He is a smart, sweet boy.  Sitting alone, in the hallway.

I have to leave him too now, for other demands.  Leave him. Here in the hallway.

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About 10 other things like these happened today.  A few I can’t even share here; there is no way to adequately anonymize them.

This happened today. In one day.

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What are we here to teach?   This is elementary school.