Lunch Duty Food Fight

One warrior, Dan, was left alone in the cafeteria, an outlandish rebellion was stirring. An uprising of epic odds. Could one warrior tame the angry mob of 100 frustrated citizens? The citizens began to organize on the battlefield. Except this battlefield was a cafeteria and their weapons were mac and cheese, bananas, and mystery meat. 

The citizens, tired of the oppression by their evil lords and the ever expanding homework demands, organized a coup. In a rebellion there are two groups: Loyalist or colonists, the rebels or the empire, but there are always at least two groups . William Golding wrote the classic novel Lord of the Flies. The premise is a group of boys that are shipwrecked on a island. With the pilot dying and no adult supervision they separate into two factions. Ralph makes all the responsible choices to try and get the boys off the island. Jack forms a hunting party of warriors and a power struggle ensures on the island, leading to some intense battles. I was hoping there would be a Ralph or two that day, but Ralph must of been at the dentist.

Our school policy was there should be about five or six adults in a room of 100 students. Teachers, disgruntled by the problems in our school, often skipped lunch duty.

That day, it was just me, a small microphone and 100 students waiting to call my bluff on my threats. The ages ranged from7-10 year olds. 

Principal Laney was usually present during lunch to help tame the mob. Laney is feared among the student population. Over the PA, I heard him being summoned to a notoriously bad 5th grade classroom. 

With decreased parental supervision in the room, villainous behavior was bound to emerge. We will call our emerging culprit in this story, Jack. Aware that the principal was gone, he rallied his rebels.

Jack crawled on the lunchroom table, knocking over hot dogs and milk. With two feet firmly planted, Jack held his hands by his hips. He didn’t speak, he just smiled mischievously. Eight year old girls swoon over this rebel’s courage and proud stance.

“Jack sit down.” I commanded, speaking in to the microphone from across the room. 

Jack reluctantly jumped off, inadvertently kicking one student’s hot dog on a nearby girl shirt. 

The girls frowned at the evil laughter coming from this rambunctious tribe of boys, Jack's friends were egging him on to more mischief. Jack turned his back on me to avoid my eyes.When facing his crowd they spurred him onto more trouble.

Jack bends over to find an abandoned banana and throws it at the chubby kid. For copyright infringement purposes, we will call the chubby kid Wiggly. Wiggly teared up and threw the remains of his banana back at Jack in an attempt to hurt this bully.  

Jack mocks wiggly by saying, “Your slow and fat. The reason your probably don’t have any brothers or sister is because you ate them.” 

I run from the other corner of the cafeteria. The banana incident probably only lasted about ten seconds.

I yell, “ Get off the table Jack, go sit at the other corner of the cafeteria.” I am loosing control of the students and must issue a consequence! They reluctantly came over to the time out table, a table students are sent to when misbehaving.They sit at this isolated table to cool down.

One hundred pupils talk louder and louder as I am the sole person trying to subdue the excitement. We use levels 0-4 to monitor the volume in our classrooms. Zero means absolutely no audible voices. You could hear your friend’s heart beat from across the room kind of quiet. Level four is an outdoor voice, the occasional yell is tolerated. Since the yell is outside, the sounds dissipates. When you are in the cafeteria, it reverberates. Five more minutes went by without Principal Laney and the volume coming from the students was comparable to a playoff hockey game.

I put down squabbles as my voice became less terrifying as the noise overpowers. My table of isolation was growing. Four more bananas were thrown. Six students were at the isolation table which left it not so isolated. They would need to learn how to share resources to survive. I saw Harry, one of Jacks closest friends share his hot dog at the isolation table. I scratch my head in slight panic. Six of biggest trouble makers are ready to form a union. 

A fight broke out on the opposite side of the cafeteria from the isolation table. I leapt off a bench I was standing on towards Doug a third grader, he was punching Jon in the face for calling him stupid. 

I managed to stop the fight in that corner of the room, but my back was completely turned to my worst culprits. Children are fast, like new puppies, it only takes 30 seconds of my back being turned for them to start pulling enough food out of the trash cans to have enough ammo for the coming war.

Solidarity was a term used during the Occupy Wall street movement. It is when many stand in unison for a common set of ideals. Jack and his bandits have lost patience to continue to deal with our schools rules and consequences. They devise a plan: A food fight in solidarity. 

The attack was going to be against the 2nd graders. The 2nd graders did not adequately prepare for this food fight since their attention was on watching Mr. Henderson run around like a mad man. Jack has his warriors ready to take over Cafeteria Island. What I remember from that day can only be described as civilization lost and William Golding’s reality found.

“Food fight!” Jack yelled at the top of his lungs. 

I was still holding Doug by one arm, about sixty feet away from my worst culprits. Doug and my muscles relaxed as we watched food treys of previously disposed hot dogs and macaroni and cheese fly, not in mouths, but onto peoples’ faces. In disbelief we stood far away to avoid being smothered by mystery meat. It was complete chaos. 

I stood, taking a few deep breaths. Doug looked at me with a nonverbal expression to say, I am the least of your problems. What are you going to do, Mr. Henderson?

I composed myself. I stopped a banana from being stuffed down a girl’s back by grabbing the banana straight out of a culprits hand. I witnessed a gooey pasta dish being smeared all over the American flag. The last image I have in my mind is a banana knocking a picture of a former principal from the wall. Frustrated and tired, with red cheeks, I ran to the front of the cafeteria to grab the microphone.

“STOP! STOP IT! Anyone caught throwing another piece of food will stay in after school detention for the rest of the week!” I have never yelled louder in all my life. 

This causes 94% of the students to put down their projectiles except my boys from Lord of the Flies. They decided, since most of the food was gone, to jump in the trash cans. Why? Well to ride around the cafeteria of course. 

The trash cans are four feet high, with easy gliding wheels. 

Where the hell were the janitors and the other teachers? I could only find the damn lunch ladies, watching from behind the counters. They observed from a distance, fearful to leave the kitchen. I can't blame them, a minimum wage salary doesn’t pay enough to discipline these kids, does it?

Ninety out of the one hundred kids were laughing at the Circa De Soleil movements of my culprits in the trash cans. I grabbed two trash cans with kids in them and gave these children the teacher look of death. Thankfully, I scared them enough that they took their macaroni and cheese covered bodies back to the table of isolation.

Jack still in a trash can yelled,“Push me faster!” Jack had no intention of calming down as another classmate zig zagged around the cafeteria tables. Wiggly was close to the stage and was not participating in these shenanigans. I found any ally, who was also not a fan of Jack.

“Wiggly, go to the main office and have the receptionist call the principal to the cafeteria.” He jiggled gleefully, as he knew the principal would give Jack the sweet justice he deserved for throwing a banana earlier at his face.

Two minutes went by, no principal. I was slightly nervous that the calamity would start again. I wrangled the trash can from Jack’s friend.

“Jack get out of the trash can!” Jack enthusiastically stilled played in the remains of cafeteria trash can, openly defying my authority.

“Fine stay in there, see what happens.” My hope was that the principal would catch him in the act, so I let the little jerk play in the questionable, but USDA approved meat.

I was quite proud of myself that my clothes remained clean. Yes, maybe I could have done something differently, but the odds were not in my favor. Who was I suppose to be? Freakin Spartacus? Wait he lost…

“JACK!” My savior arrived. 

The Principal grabbed the trash can, bringing it to a violent halt. Laney took one look around the room. Seeing the broken principal’s portrait and oodles of noodles all over the floor, Laney became enraged. The principal picked Jack up by his shirt collar, lifting him straight out of the trash can. She held Jack there for five seconds with his feet dangling in the air. Looking him dead in the eye he proclaims.

“You’re mine.” With that statement, the cafeteria became dead silent as he put Jack down. I have seen that look on my principal’s face. We were no longer talking to Principal Laney, but to Samuel L. Jackson.

Giving everyone the death stare, he paced in the cafeteria before grabbing the mic from my hands. Then he put fear and order back into the school.

“Let me get this straight. You have the audacity- the audacity!- to start a food fight in my school?! Do I look like I am playing with you? Do you think I am going to get into trouble for your clothes being ruined? Oh, no, no, no. I will personally talk with each of your parents and let them know that you decided to throw food at your friends. That you, Jack!” Laney stops to point and shame Jack by raising his voice. “Where rolling around all over the cafeteria in a trash can. Guess what? It’s a sunny day. Too bad you won’t be seeing it.” This speech concluded with after school detention being given to everyone , along with a good dose of guilt for all. 

The teachers came back from their lunch break in shock, to see once formally clean white shirts stained with yellow processed cheese. The teachers added another layer of shame and cancelled recess. Which is now illegal. The students marched up the stairs with heads held low and frowns of fear on their faces. They were clearly worried about the phone call home from Principal Laney. 

Our six culprits were still seated at our isolation table, held in the cafeteria for Laney to give another verbal bashing.

Once all but six students are out of the cafeteria, I confront Principal Laney. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” I began pleading with him. “ I was the only one in here and sent as many of the kids over to a table to be by themselves. I just had to break up a fight and my back was turned and…..”

“You mean you were here all alone the whole time?” Laney asked this rhetorical question as he scanned the room to confirm the other teachers were not present. 

“Yes, sir.” I say humbly.

“You did the best you can, Dan. I will have to have a word with those teachers.”

The next few weeks, the cafeteria was tame because of the increased supervision the principal put in place. Teachers were reprimanded for not showing up for duty. Children were given consequences and our culprits clean up the cafeteria for two weeks. Jack and his rebels were suspended for three days. 

When teachers are left with too many kids, and not enough help, all hell breaks loose. It is in some children’s nature to cause chaos, and schools should hire more people, or schedule better, so that teachers are never stuck in charge of an entire cafeteria.

This is NOT a story about WHY kids do things, but on poor administration management. 

Please post your thoughts?

Do teachers not report to mandatory duties in your school? How can we fix this problem?

What steps has your school used to increase PTA or volunteer support at your school for lunch duty, field trips, and extra curricular activities. 

You can find out more about Dan’s book at That’s Special: A Survival Guide To Teaching or go on Dan’s website on thatspecial.co.

Email me at [ Dan ] [Henderson ] danhendersonthatsspecial@gmail.com

Website: www.thatspecial.co

Reviews from That’s Special A Survival Guide To Teaching:

If you were considering a career in teaching special education students and read Dan’s stories, you might think twice. After reading about his tools, however, you should see how it can be a rewarding option thanks to his tools and your own hard work and caring.

-Dr. Doug Green

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Are You Really Checking For Understanding?

4 Tips For Using Check For Understanding Practices

by Dan Henderson, Author of That’s Special: A Survival Guide To Teaching

As adults we often take for granted our wide range of vocabulary and the comprehension that comes with applying knowledge while writing. Too often in my younger years of teaching I left check for understand questions (CFU) out of my lesson. I would accept one answer from the brightest student then moved on assuming everyone absorbed one student's response. It was only until I asked my students to write a story about being thrifty did I realize how they really didn't comprehend the meaning of the word. The word thrifty was interpreted to steal.

With all great teaching you have an example or model an activity for your learners to re-produce. This story was about a young boy named Marco whose family had lost everything in the Great Depression. Before this time this affluent boy’s family had a family car and a butler probably named Jeeves. When the Great Depression hit, the family lost everything, even their beloved man servant. Jeeves would no longer clear the sidewalk of the dirty lower class off the New York Streets separating Marco from the commoners. Marco's family had to sell almost all their possession and his toys. Marco was left with a barren room, and they were barely able to continue living in their home.

Learning to be deprived of material possessions did not come naturally for Marco. Marco devises a plan to obtain what was lost. His favorite toy train made of gold and red trim was located in a shop on 57th street. Marco steals the train by placing it in a bread basket secretly hidden under a towel. Marco's momentary joy is regained when playing with the train alone in his room. Suddenly a loneliness strikes his heart, and he cries for he misses his only friend, Jeeves. 

Marco searches for friendship on the busy streets of New York. Marco sees a group of boys playing and pauses to see if he will be accepted. From the reflection on a busy street corner window, he realizes he is the riff raff Jeeves used to kick to clear a path. The children playing in the ally have used tires and a random collection of toys. Marco gives the boys the bright new train, and he is instantly accepted into their social circle.Marco realizes all he ever wanted was friends. 

Marco goes to his barren home and finds odds and ends in the basement to make toys. The text uses the word thrifty to describe Marco. Marco takes his thrifty self to showcase his new toy to the ally boys. Moral of the story is friends are more important than money. Cue white shining light breaking in from clouds as the main idea that friendship is more important than money takes root in all of my students consciousness. My students must take this lesson and give me an example of how they can be thrifty at home.

My homework assignment is for my students to find something they can reuse with a friend to be thrifty. They must find an object in their home to create a two paragraph persuasive argument about how they would benefit from reusing an item. I do not ask any follow up or CFU ( Check For Understand ) questions about what students believe the word thrifty means. The next day we review the assignment as a whole group. Hoping my lesson hits a home run I ask Daniel MacFarland a CFU question the following morning.  

"Daniel, can you define thrifty and describe how you found something in your house to re-use?"

"Sure." Daniel says with a pause to compose himself. "Thrifty mean to take something without getting caught to make friends."

I pause tilting my head at an angle to give Daniel the benefit of the doubt. 

"When you mean take something, do you mean reuse something that you own?"

"No, I mean taking something that someone else has and hiding it in an ally with the other boys so you don't get caught," Daniel says proudly.

"What, no, no, no Marco or the boys in the ally did not steal, they were poor and made do with what they had in the ally. Marco was punished for stealing the toy train. The word thrifty means to be sparing or creatively reuse what you have, not to take from someone else and certainly not as a bribe to make friends."

"Ohhh," Daniel says with a long pause as his once firm hold on his paper in two hands now is let loose to float carelessly to his desk. Daniel sits on his hands and looks away, a downfall of shame overtakes him. I feel I also have let him down as a teacher. I crouch by his desk and whisper softly, "Daniel, it is ok. What did you do?"

"Well I wanted to make friends with the older boys that play by my house in the ally. They seemed to have less than my family so I wanted to take something to make friends like Marco."

"Daniel, what did you take?" I whisper sternly. Daniel looks away again, "Look at my eyes what did you take?"

"I took my dad’s gold watch and gave it to the boys in the ally. I was trying to make friends like Marco."

"What! Do your parents know? Marco got punished by the shopkeeper. The point of the story was not to steal and not about not getting caught. The point of the story is money can't buy happiness and friends are better than material possessions. Don't you know stealing is wrong?" I said this statement a little too harshly.

"I wasn't stealing; I was thrifting, Mr. Henderson. Taking something for someone else to make friends." Oh God, this is going to come back on me. Forget lesson planning; I would have to call Daniel’s dad to explain the situation. Hopefully, the gold watch would turn out to not be a Rolex but a Folex.

Lunch time arrives, and I escort the class to the cafeteria. I take Daniel into the conference room to call Daniel's dad in private. Calling dad was going to be different than usual. Instead of the typical scenario where I either call to give a positive or scolding performance review of my pupils, I might be facing no video games or TV for weeks alongside Daniel depending on how Mr. MaFarland reacts. He might ground us both.

I cough a few times and pick up the phone cautiously planning my excuse. Daniel stands next to the phone thinking about how he is going to phrase the incident to blame the teacher. We are no longer teacher and student; we are brothers confessing to a parent. The dial tone lingers and I re-think this conversation. I hang up the phone, and I cough again so that Daniel will look in my direction.

"Daniel, this could go one of two ways. A: you could tell you dad you thought the story was about stealing toys or watches to make friends. This would get us both in trouble because your dad would think the public education system has let him down. Since he will believe stealing is a moral value we teach in public school. Thus, he will also be disappointed in you and his parenting for you not having the common sense to not steal from your own family. Or we could do B, admit that all you really wanted was friends and Mr. Henderson will confess he did not do a superb job of explaining what thrifty meant as long as you acknowledge to your dad that you did not ask me any follow up questions to the definition of our vocabulary."

After my exasperated explanation of the plan, Daniel sits down to think. Should I defend my teacher or should I save my own skin? Daniel can't seem to deliberate the outcome so I give one more comment.

"Do you really want to go through life making excuses, or we can confess our errors as a team to stand together? I promise you, Daniel, I will check to make sure you understand the assignments before you leave school."

"Ok, we will do B. I am afraid I will get grounded." He says shaking his right leg anxiously while looking at the floor.

"I am afraid your dad is going to ground me, too." Daniel gives me a big grin as I steadily pick up the phone. I ask Daniel to dial his dad's number.

To sum up the conversation with Mr. Macfarland it went something like this, “What! This is what your teaching in school. Did any of the other kids steal because of you.” Add in a little shame, “Did you go to school to be a teacher Mr. Henderson? Whatever, how are you two going to pay for my watch.” Alas, I was spoken to as a child by a parent. Oh the joy, not only am I shamed but I have to come up $200 dollars because I did not ask a freakin CFU question!

We learn that is was not a Rolex but a really expensive 14k gold watch. Mr. MacFarland listens patiently to his son relay his message that all he really wanted was friends and that he was confused about being thrifty. Daniel apologies profusely and Mr. MacFarland asks to speak to me in private.

Mr. MacFarland was upset, but the phone call ended with a joke. His last comment will always stick with me, "I appreciate all you do for my son, but if I could give away gold watches, I would send my child to private school." My administrator was not impressed with my vocabulary lessons and I forever learned to put check for understanding questions in my lesson plans.

4 Tips For Using Check For Understanding Practices

1. Start a lesson by going in depth with vocabulary: Write the definition, create a sentence, then draw a picture of the sentence you are describing.
2. Set up a Check For Understanding habit: Create a routine by using exit tickets, or quizzes to discover what concepts your pupils are missing. I use every Friday to have a CFU quiz to gather data. Then use the data to re-teach or create new steps. 
3. What if my students still aren't getting the concept? Break it down! Boggie with your bad self. Just kidding, just break down the steps into new sub-steps. Other groups of students may even need a whole new set of steps or a review on a prior skills.
4. Use vocabulary or terms they will use: The Collins Cobuild Learner’s Dictionary will help you find the most commonly use words used in the English language. What words will they really use, bourgeois or middle class. My guess is they need to know the term middle class.

The real key in using Checks For Understanding activities is making sure students have fluently mastered a prior skill before moving on. Think of learning as a foundation. If the foundation is not solid, the whole building will collapse. CFU questions are your lessons’ building inspector.  

You can find out more about Dan’s book at That’s Special: A Survival Guide To Teaching or go on Dan’s website on thatspecial.co.

Email me at [ Dan ] [Henderson ] danhendersonthatsspecial@gmail.com

Website: www.thatspecial.co

Reviews from That’s Special A Survival Guide To Teaching:

If you were considering a career in teaching special education students and read Dan’s stories, you might think twice. After reading about his tools, however, you should see how it can be a rewarding option thanks to his tools and your own hard work and caring.

-Dr. Doug Green

Like the Facebook page at 

https://www.facebook.com/thatsspecial

*Disclaimer: All names have been changed to protect their identity.  All specific geographic indicators have been removed from these stories. Additionally, these stories are written about incidents that happened one year or longer from this date. @ That’s Special January 2016

What Not To Do When Planning For Response For Intervention

Special education teachers are often tasked with teaching small groups of four to six students. Response to intervention (RTI) is the terminology used for supporting struggling learners, and special education teachers are being asked to teach these groups in addition to their regular student caseload. This poses a problem when the special needs children don’t get the individualized instruction that the IEP is trying to address. The other problem is the students in these groups are often the bad apples, the slackers, and the students who conceal bringing large black sharpies to your table.

I was teaching three special needs students at my table when I was told by the RTI coordinator that I would have Eric and Ryan join our group. Eric and Ryan had reputations of mischief. School supplies went missing. Bugs mysteriously materialized in desks. On the playground playful fighting and dares were the lay of the land. The P.E. teacher had Eric’s and Ryan’s parents on speed dial. Sometimes the playful fighting got out of hand.

Ms. Sumpter, Eric and Ryan teacher, had thrown in the towel. “We can’t teach these ones; send them to Henderson. They are driving me nuts,” Ms. Sumpter complains. Eric and Ryan have frequently called out statements to derive a laugh during class such as “This lesson brought you by spray on hair because you’re that ugly.” The whole class erupts in laughter leaving the students disinterested in Ms. Sumpter’s lesson and her own will to control the class seriously demoralized. Ms. Sumpter needs to provide evidence that Eric and Ryan should join an RTI group, she has to show they were behind academically. Ms. Sumpter willingly provides data to prove these students are behind in the grade level standards. I believe the lack of behavior management was reason these students were behind, and in terms of intelligence prior grades showed no warning signs. No matter the reason, if a student is behind academically, they are put into a RTI group. Today that intervention group is with Mr. Henderson and in dimly light hallway next to the stairwell. 

I go to Ms. Sumpter to investigate the interventions that have taken place and discover behavior management is the issue. I offer strategies, but the response is many shaking hands to signify your strategies won’t work Mr. Henderson. Ms. Sumpter debated gloriously with the RTI coordinator knowing if she could provide evidence of their failing grades she would gain a 30 minute of reprieve from Eric and Ryan each day.

I make one last ditch effort to recommend an intervention strategy, loaning my collection of Rocky movies. I envision Ms. Sumpter rewinding the scene where Rocky has just won the match and yells “Adrian!” and instead she yells, “Lesson Plan!” Diligently she types up her lessons on Sunday, spitting in a bucket next to her desk while her husband Mickey makes her some raw eggs. Alive and enthusiastic Rocky has inspired her to try new strategies to teach Eric and Ryan next Monday. Alas, my DVD collection idea was rejected and for collaboration, well that would have to wait.

I gather my herd of second grade students from their respective classroom. Ms. Sumpter smiles when I come as if I were removing a hang nail or eliminating a pesky bug for at least a moment. Thankful for the 30 minute relief, Eric and Ryan were always lined up ready to leave promptly at 1:30. I would march my group including Eric and Ryan to the hallway. We would huddle around a small kidney shaped table outside the hallway tucked away from the noise of wandering students. Our isolation which usually proves to be an advantage to eliminate distractions would prove to not always be valuable.

Eric’s and Ryan’s RTI group was a guided reading lesson on a reading level that closely matched all students at the table. My other three students know my routine and immediately get out a whiteboard and marker behind their chairs. Two days of teaching goes by, and I can see Eric and Ryan kicking the table and staring at the ceiling. I separate Eric and Ryan at opposite ends of the table. Little did I know about the black sharpies in their pockets.

I ask the group, “Write the word smart on your boards and then show me that it is correct.” Eric turns his board around and has written smart ass on his board. Ryan falls out of his chair laughing and grabbing his stomach to control himself.

“Eric, that is inappropriate, and if I see words like that again on your board, you will miss some of your computer time.” When the snickering stops, I escort them back to their classroom and I tell the teacher of the incident. The teacher does not act surprised and also gives me a worried look that says what are you teaching these kids. 

The next day I escort my learners to our table of knowledge. Eric and Ryan are already laughing as we come down the stairs. Teachers pass us and shake their heads in disapproval of Eric, Ryan, and possibly me. Our group settles down at the table. After we cover vocabulary and a brief introduction each student begins reading. I hear a scream down the stairwell and then a female voice yells, “help, help” in a very panicked voice. I quickly scan the halls, but no one is around. I hesitate. Can I leave these kids alone for two minutes? I hear the voice again, “help, help” and quickly rise accidentally knocking over my chair. 

I point at Ryan and Eric sternly to command, “Stay in your seats and do not go anywhere. I need to go see what is going on. If you finish the book, read it again. I will be back in two minutes.”

I run down the hall to the stairwell to find my co-worker Penny sprawled on the floor grabbing her shoulder. Penny was in her forties and had a slender build. Penny was an avid runner. If she was in pain, it was serious.

“Penny, what happened!” I yell from the top of the steps.

“I think I dislocated my shoulder. It hurts. I can’t even move,” she moans as she lays on her other shoulder trying to gain comfort.

.

“Just stay still; I will get some help.” I rush to the security guard by the front of the school. 

“Out of my way.” Students part nervously as they see me barrel through the halls to run to the front of the school.

Winded, I told the security guard of the situation. I ran back up the flight of stairs. I could not have been gone for more than five minutes. I turn the corner, and I see Eric and Ryan rolling on the floor in a congealed ball. They both have sharpies. They are writing obscenities all over their faces and whatever they can etch. It’s a sharpie war! I pull Eric off of Ryan, and his face is completely covered in black sharpie marks. My other three students were unaffected, but clearly Ryan had won the battle.

“Eric…. Ryan are you crazy? I go to help Ms. Penny because she dislocated her shoulder and I come back to find you writing curse words on your faces!” I yell still gasping for breath after my recent sprint.

“We were just playing.” Ryan said earnestly handing me the sharpie as remorse.

“Your computer time is gone today and for the rest of the week.” They sulk, and the excuses cease. 

I take the whole group back to class and tell Eric and Ryan to wash the sharpie battle marks from their faces and arms. I take Eric and Ryan back to their teacher to inform her that I will have to call their parents. However, before I can explain the story, I get a worried look from Ms. Sumpter. As she reads the obscenities that have only slightly faded after they washed their face she states, “Right, I think it might be a good time for us to collaborate so I can tell you what works best for Eric and Ryan.”

“Pencils?” I muse and get a smile from the teacher. I take Eric and Ryan to the principal’s office and prepare myself for the phone call home. I stopped to think how I could of collaborated better with Ms. Sumpter to uncover prior interventions that would work. Over the years I have followed these tips.

The Three Tips

Both teachers need to collaborate on what they will be teaching every week. Although my first year of teaching ended with me learning these lessons the hard way, these tips will help your students have coordinate practice which will bring fluency in an subject.

Uncover prior interventions: What has worked in the past, and what hasn’t? It’s encouraging to know the interventions that have worked, and why should you re-invent the wheel? Talk with the students prior year teacher and create a checklist of successful strategies.

Use scientifically based methods: Use the PRIM ( Pre Referral Intervention Manuel ) or any scientifically proven resource at your disposal with your co-workers. Teachers have a responsibility to use scientifically tested methods that work instead of winging it. 

Use the same interventions: What we are wanting to build in a learner is fluency. By using the same templates, comprehension strategies, or steps, both teachers are allowing the students more time to practice. Some students just need RTI or special education services because they need more practice to build fluency.

The real key in collaboration with your RTI group is using the same strategies. Don’t believe me that collaboration makes a difference, check out how teachers in developed nations outside the U.S. with less instructional time get better results through collaboration.

If you enjoyed this story check out Dan’s new book. That’s Special

Email me at [ Dan ] [Henderson ] danhendersonthatsspecial@gmail.com

Website: www.thatspecial.co

Reviews from That’s Special A Survival Guide To Teaching:

If you were considering a career in teaching special education students and read Dan’s stories, you might think twice. After reading about his tools, however, you should see how it can be a rewarding option thanks to his tools and your own hard work and caring.

-Dr. Doug Green

Like the Facebook page at 

https://www.facebook.com/thatsspecial

*Disclaimer: All names have been changed to protect their identity.  All specific geographic indicators have been removed from these stories. Additionally, these stories are written about incidents that happened one year or longer from this date. @ That’s Special December 2015

Hickie Hiatus

Vampires or Hickies? Those were the only two explanations of mysterious, blueish bruises appearing on the necks of our pupils. Concerned parents began calling teachers. The culprits: the fifth graders and their new raging hormones. 

Not yet fully aware of how to respond to these new emotions and still too young to properly suck face, the girls would hide their hickie trophies behind their long hair. Parents grew wise to turtle necks and discovered their children's’ love marks.

“My daughter is too young to get hickies! What are you teaching these kids in your school?” Ms. Orbison yelled into the phone.

I listened, tapping my toes to save my patience as Ms. Orbison berated the elementary school in which I was employed. I checked email as the rant continues well pass the time I had plan to leave at the end of a long school day.  After I apologize and reassure her that these escapades won’t happen again the yelling stops. What I really wish to say is this,”Yes, hickies are a part of the curriculum. We want our students to have a wide array of career options. If they choose to become part of the living dead of course we want to encourage appropriate neck biting technique at an early age. Vampires 101 is new, but I assure you rewarding. We don’t want your children to look like newbies when they give their souls over to just any vampire lord.” If only I could say that to Ms. Orbison and keep my job, I would.

Instead I wrapped up the conversation by saying, “Of course we do not encourage or teach our students to give each other hickies. I am as outraged as you. This is the last time it will happen in our school.” Why do some parents always want to point blame? Don’t they know teachers and parents are on the same side?! 

The following Monday I planned to create a symbol to get the point across that I am as serious about routing out the vampires at our school as the PTA. I searched for a garland of garlic and crucifix on Amazon. That should prove that I was on the same side as Ms. Orbison. I found an eight foot crucifix on Amazon. Success, two day shipping on Amazon prime, score!

With my crucifix in hand and a black robe, I proceeded to expose these demons to the light and vanquished this disease that ravished our school. Can I get a Hallelujah!? 

It is a sunny Monday morning in the school parking lot, I look towards Ms. Orbison's minivan mafia with matching paper coffee cups. One by one, slowly, the self-sliding doors opened. The doors move as I see moms giving order to the troops in the back seat. The kids enter the school and the minivans park. I see moms gather in a small group. Matching style fleece vests, all with bright contrasting colors indicate the colors of the mom mafia. Who really runs the school?  As teachers scurry worryingly past the circle of brightly marked J. Crew vests, I have my answer. 

I was greeted with sour grins by the fifth grade PTA mom mafia as I walk by their inner sanctum. Moms gave me a concerned look. Did he really pass his background check? Who is that teaching my child?

I give a wide grin back to the moms as I enter the school. “I did not promote, encourage, or help your students to suck face. I was shocked as anyone.” I hoped this incident was over as we began our 8:00am staff meeting for the entire school. What was the last item on the agenda? A PowerPoint bullet that just said, “Hickies.”  

Once the principal was alerted, a task force was organized. I teamed up with my co-worker, Greg and the janitor, Garrison. Other school staff members were made aware of our new hickie-alert status. We were now at DEFCON 1. An immediate nuclear hickie attack was imminent. 

My principal was irate about the faculties’ lack of knowledge. We knew vampires could be the cause, so we had to order extra garlic to prepare for this new emergency. 

“Couldn’t these kids be giving hickies at home?” I offered as a reasonable explanation hoping we could switch topics to actually teaching students. 

Ms. Orbison had apparently rooted out that scenario from her inside sources within the minivan mafia. After 10 minutes of getting barraged by the administrators about our lack of adult supervision, we were given the unholy mother of all assignments. Outdoor recess.

“Squirrel Team red,” I joked to Greg, as the name for our new task force. We would be the outside supervisors of these young vampires.

“Hickie free in 2003. Maybe Ms. Orbison would like us more if we made signs and picketed our own school.” Gregs comments, makes me laugh.

Squirrel team took it’s first assignment seriously and watched the would-be vampires on the playground. For half an hour each day we patrolled the jungle gym looking for the undead. Before entering the building, all fifth graders were asked to pull back their hair for vampire inspection. 

“If found with a foreign agent, you will be quarantined. I repeat you will be quarantined.” No child got my joke, but I made Greg laugh.

Two weeks went by and we did not have any incidents with the mom mafia. With a 1930’s noir voice, I think, “They are laying low you see, they got wise, a gum shoe is hot on the trail. We better ice this before someone gets burned. If we can’t catch them in the act, maybe we should set a trap.” 

Children are smarter than you think. They ones that got away with dirty deeds were the ones that knew when the adults were not watching. 

The week slowly rolled on and Friday was finally upon us. The fifth graders lined up for inspection, but Ms. Orbison's daughter, Tiffany, refused to show us her neck, for the first time in our two week Red Squirrel squad mission.

“Tiffany pull back your hair.” I demanded.

“No, it’s my neck and you can’t tell me what to do.” She argued.

I want to say, “Actually, your a minor and technically….well we will argue semantics later.”

“Do you have something to hide?” I asked.

“No.” She pouts looking away.

“If you have nothing to hide, why don’t you show me your neck?”

“Logic bomb!” Greg yells out and makes it hard for me to keep my teacher-face straight.

Tiffany gave Greg an evil look.

“Show me your neck, Tiffany, or you can wait in the office until your mom arrives.” She realized that that would mean her mom, head of MVM, would discover the love marks first. Without a teacher as a buffer, she could not bear the brunt of the vocal onslaught. If I told her mom, she just might live to see another day.

Tiffany slowly peeled back her hair to reveal a new blueish mark. “Ah ha! So it was happening on the playground, but how and with who?” I exclaim thinking out loud.

Of course, Ms. Orbison blamed us for not catching Tiffany’s young lover in the act. Tiffany refused to give the name of her Romeo, despite a harsh grounding sentence of three weeks. The principal luckily thanks us for finding the source of these events and began to be more sympathetic to our cause. However, the passive aggressive grins I see in the morning parking lot indicate we still need to find our Romeo. It’s not easy pleasing the minivan mafia. 

A few weeks went by, as Squirrel Team, including our janitor Garrison, patrolled the monkey bars with vigilance. We narrowed down the lover to three possible boys. The students had grown wise to our increased supervision and were avoiding our quarantine. 

Greg and I devised a plan, because Tiffany was not the only one who was originally found with bite marks.

Garrison was always in the background, and the students didn’t notice the janitor’s presence the way they noticed teachers. Greg and myself decided to go around the corner of the school, out of the immediate eyes of the playground equipment. We both acted like we are deep in conversation and unleashed our stealth weapon: Garrison. Garrison watched Gwen from a distance and noticed her going into a slide. 

This slide was a tube. The tube was perfect for hiding from the prying eyes of adult supervision. The slide, the highest on the playground, swirled around twice before your journey was over. 

Garrison watched intently. Gwen went down the slide. She did not come out. There were about 100 students on the playground. One boy, Ben made a dash for the slide. Once both were inside, Garrison made his move.

Garrison scurried up the slide, making all the members of the Squirrel Team proud. 

“Gotcha!” he yelled. Garrison grabbed Ben and pulled his fangs off his lover’s neck. We heard Gwen scream from across the playground, making the whole playground aware of the commotion. I did not think our lovers expected a six-foot tall, 200 pound janitor to crawl up the slide and ruin their romantic randevu. Why is love never like the movies?

The principal talked to Gwen and Ben about taking a break from this hickie exploration until they are bit older. Greg couldn’t resist his jests.

“Yes, a Hickie Hiatus is in order.” Greg excitedly proclaimed, hoping to get a laugh from our principal. 

Instead, Ben turns around with a inquisitive look,“What’s a Hiatus?” 

“And then I remembered that my job was not vampire hunter, but teacher. I should probably get back to that.”

Response from Readers

  

Every month I ask a question to the readers of this blog. My question last week was:

How do you handle vandalism at your school?

Brian Groberg writes:

 Graffiti used to be a big problem in our schools until our art teacher came up with a creative solution. Prior offenders were gathered up and ask to do a mural for the schools auditorium  However, the catch was if there was any new graffiti around the school, all work on the mural would be halted. There was no new graffiti on the bathroom walls for three weeks.  When the mural was finished we began to see graffiti again. The principal decided to let students have art supplies in the cafeteria and that students could enter in a cafeteria art competition. I can't say that vandalism and graffiti was eradicated, but it was seriously reduced. 

I want to hear your thoughts, please share your ideas. The questions this month are:

Do you think our students are blooming sexually too early these days?

When do you think an appropriate age for sexual education to be taught in our classrooms?

Email me at [ Dan ] [Henderson ] danhendersonthatsspecial@gmail.com

Website: www.thatspecial.co

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*Disclaimer: All names have been changed to protect their identity.  All specific geographic indicators have been removed from these stories. Additionally, these stories are written about incidents that happened one year or longer from this date. @ That’s Special 2015