Thank you, Mrs, Musgraves

After I posted my blog about the mysterious IEP yesterday something occurred: I realized I've written my own share of mysterious IEPs.

I can hardly blame someone else for writing one of those so-called mysterious IEPs when as a special educator I've done it too. I remember a time or two reviewing old IEPs, for one reason or another, and I'd find something that would just cause me to scratch my head in amazement. With the advantage of time I now had a different view point.

This thought jumped in my mind and then bumped right out as another thought replaced it; I remembered hearing this week is Teacher Appreciation Week (T.A.W.) I remember those days of T.A.W. fondly. (Ask my husband, my Love Language is gifts.  I love words of appreciation and having accomplishments but, for some reason God gave me the Love Language of gifts!)

So I'm remembering IEPs, finding gifts in my school mailbox, special breakfasts and luncheons while teaching.... Then another thought bounced in; Judy Musgraves.

Judy Musgraves wasn't a special teacher I had growing up (I have several like Mrs. Soper [6th grade] and Miss Carol Reeves [3rd grade Sunday school].) But Judy Musgraves wasn't my teacher; in fact when I met Mrs. Musgraves she wasn't even a teacher.

Mrs. Musgraves was the principal at my kids' school when we moved to Missouri some twenty-five years ago. She was the one who gave my toddler a Little Golden Book, that we still have, and from time to time she advised me about things we were doing at the school.  But the reason Judy is truly special to me is because of what she did one day.

I had been reading with a child who was struggling with ADHD, reading, focusing and more (I was at the school all the time helping one way or another because I loved it...even though my background up to that point was in horticulture).

I can still recall the conversation as if it happened yesterday. It was the day that Mrs. Musgraves stopped me in the hall and said,

"Cathy, go down to Valerie's classroom."

"Why?" I asked standing there in the main hallway.

"Valerie has a sick child and she needs to go pick him up. Go down and fill in for her."

"WHAT? I'M NOT A TEACHER!" I protested, slamming on the conversation brakes because I already knew I was. Not. Teacher. Material!

"Don't you have a college degree?" she smoothly interjected.

"Yes." I hesitated.

"Well, a substitute only needs to have 60 hours of college credits: you qualify. 

A confused look must have come over my face because she added,

"You have a degree."

The look on her face was matter of fact and her voice was in charge, in control.

I went.

As a young child I remember thinking a time or two that I wanted to be a teacher when I grew up. My favorite aunt was a music teacher, my dad was a high school coach, a great aunt was a kindergarten teacher and it seemed I should follow in their footsteps.
Shyness overruled all reasoning, however, and caused me to think there was no possible way I could stand in front of a classroom of people every day and ... talk!

And that's probably what was going through my mind that day at Chance Elementary.

Substitute teaching in fourth grade began a career that day: a career that would go through many transformations and eventually become a passion for life. The door to a new world had been flung open in-spite of me.

So here's to the teachers out there who have touched the lives of their students. And to those like Judy Musgraves who take charge and lead the way, setting high standards for the rest of us to follow.

Thank you. 


Cathy is on Twitter @CoMoDyslexia and on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/OnPointLearningCenter

It's a Mystery

It wasn't a science fiction thriller but I'll still call it a mystery.

One day an IEP (Individual Education Plan for special education) appeared at my office. All alone, by itself it managed to cause confusion!

The confusion wasn't about who the IEP was for, that was clearly documented at the beginning. We didn't wonder where the school was that this IEP came from: also clearly stated. We knew what grade the student was in, his address and date of birth. Soon a bigger problem sprang up!

I quickly flipped through the pages of the mysterious IEP and found this in the present level:

"Student says he can't focus." 

This student has clearly stated that he cannot focus! Funny thing is nobody seems to be able to hear him!

Alright, maybe I should read through this one more time, I thought to myself. Maybe I'll find another clue.

Nothing.

But, the child had already laid out a treasure map for everyone. He'd clearly left an 'X marks the spot'! He needs to know how to focus! Even the person who wrote the present level included the child's thinking in the IEP, they must have thought this was important, yet no where does the IEP address focusing.

There are facts and figures, percentages and standard scores about tests, quotes for the number of words the child will read, all documented. However, nowhere are there instructions or a plan for how this child will receive help with focusing.

I'll bet the child isn't interested in scores or how many words per minute he reads, but if he knew how to focus everything might change!

I'm listening and those of you who read my blog are good listeners, too. But how do schools and teachers expect students to listen to them when they fail to listen to children just like this one?