Can I Just Say
How much I hate when little kindergartners reek of cigarette smoke?
And that says nothing about how hard it is to look at these children who are far far behind their peers, who have various disorders impairing their learning abilities and come to school hungry and filthy and exhausted. The school district can supply a hearing-impaired child with extra auditory enhancements including a microphone that her teachers dutifully wear and pass along to one another but they will do NOTHING if the wax and dirt build up in her ears is so thick and disgusting that sound wouldn't dare venture in if it were forced.
And can I just mention how disturbing it is to me to be working carefully with a second grader who is doing his best to make English his primary language and to catch up on all the schoolwork he has missed due to migrant parents only to have him write in his journal entry every.single.day about how he can't wait to get home to play Halo 3 or Call of Duty 4.
And to think that I spent no less than a full hour every day doing therapuetic sensory brushing and compressions on more than five different children three times during the day every school day knowing that these same techniques are never performed by the child's parents after school.
Can I just say that I don't know how my second mother taught special education for so many years and didn't lose all hope for the children of the world (or their parents)?
And that says nothing about how hard it is to look at these children who are far far behind their peers, who have various disorders impairing their learning abilities and come to school hungry and filthy and exhausted. The school district can supply a hearing-impaired child with extra auditory enhancements including a microphone that her teachers dutifully wear and pass along to one another but they will do NOTHING if the wax and dirt build up in her ears is so thick and disgusting that sound wouldn't dare venture in if it were forced.
And can I just mention how disturbing it is to me to be working carefully with a second grader who is doing his best to make English his primary language and to catch up on all the schoolwork he has missed due to migrant parents only to have him write in his journal entry every.single.day about how he can't wait to get home to play Halo 3 or Call of Duty 4.
And to think that I spent no less than a full hour every day doing therapuetic sensory brushing and compressions on more than five different children three times during the day every school day knowing that these same techniques are never performed by the child's parents after school.
Can I just say that I don't know how my second mother taught special education for so many years and didn't lose all hope for the children of the world (or their parents)?
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