Montana Makes Me Smile

My "class" is back up to an entire 2 kids, at least for a while. A few weeks ago the powers that be wanted Ruddy to come in for "behavior support" 2 times during the day, once in the morning and once in the afternoon. It mostly consisted of Ruddy doing whatever the rest of us were doing at the time, while getting reinforced for his positive behavior. (His behavior is almost always positive in my room.) A few days later they said he was getting in trouble in the cafeteria, and they wanted him to come eat lunch in my room as well. Then they said he was having behavior problems at the end of the school day, and they wanted him to come to my room at the end of the day for a "check out" and have me walk him to his bus.

Today they were like, "By the way, Ruddy is going to be in your class all day from now on." At least for the foreseeable future, which could be anywhere from a week to the rest of the school year depending on what they decide at his upcoming IEP meeting.

I was a little irritated at first. Not because I don't like Ruddy... I do, he's a nice little guy... but because I'm starting to feel like my "class" is just a holding cell for kids they don't know what else to do with... kids who are inbetween hospitalizations, or on their way to the therapeutic school, or suspended, or whatnot. It is hard to create any semblance of order when they are bounced in and out like this!

But then the special ed director told me that Ruddy's teacher doesn't seem to like Ruddy and would prefer not to have him in her class at all. She sees no good in him and is just, like, "Get him out of here."

When I heard that, my first words were, "Then lets just keep him in here."

Of course it isn't that simple!

On another note, here's the sweet moment of the day!

On my desk is a little mailbox that I painted at the beginning of the school year. Way back then, when I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, I hoped to encourage kids to write by asking them to leave me notes in the mailbox. Then life got chaotic, and I forgot about the mailbox, until today when Montana asked about it. I told him its original purpose. Montana seemed to half listen and then he wandered off. I heard him ask the aide for a piece of paper, but didn't think anything of it.

A few moments later I noticed that Montana was acting like a goof ball. He was spinning around the room, and then he was jumping up and down, and then he was hiding under the table and giggling.

"Whats up with you, Montana?" I asked him.

He giggled, "I think you have some mail!"

Sure enough, the little flag on my mailbox was up.

Inside was a folded up sheet of paper. On it, Montana had written, "Miss Butterfly you are a good techer."

My heart melted.

I kinda wish he wasn't going to the therapeutic school. My days will be easier once he goes... but I sure am going to miss him!