Kevin was a child whose developmental delays were clearly a result of his home environment and not a result of any intrinsic disability. He, and thus we, reported abuse on numoerous occasions but no one listens to a three year old boy with speech delays and a fear of strangers. Kevin was prone to extreme rage which he could not identify nor figure out on his own how to regulate (this was an IEP goal for at least two years). He also lacked impulse control. One day we had been coloring with markers for art and I had put the bucket of markers out of general reach, but still within reach of a climbing child I would discover. The children were playing nicely in centers when all of a sudden Chrissie came running up to me and announced "Kevin is drawing on the walls!" I looked and sure enough, Kevin was using a brilliant blue marker to decorate the imaginative play area, drawing on the walls and the table and the play kitchen and a few dolls. Calling him over, I asked him what he was doing. With an angelic face he answered "Graffiti."
"Kevin, we do not have graffiti in my classroom. We respect our things."
"I sorry."
"I am glad that you are sorry but that was a bad choice. What happens when we make bad choices?"
"[things] we don't like."
"Now you are going to have to clean up your grafitti,"
I filled a small bucket with soapy water and plopped in a sponge. I then supervised as Kevin scrubbed away every mark of his graffiti. The problem was he seemed to be having fun cleaning, so I decided that we would extend our grafitti removal project. So with bucket in hand we went to the two other special education classes and did some more cleaning until it was not fun anymore. Each teacher also played along, acting horrified that Kevin would write graffiti on his classroom walls and toys and talking about what a bad choice that was. When we walked back to our classroom, Kevin barely cleared the ground with the bucket he was lugging.
"Kevin, do we do graffiti at school?"
"No ma'am!"
"What happens if you do graffiti?"
" You clean it. And clean more."
"So are you going to draw on my walls again?"
"No Ma'am!"
After that day Kevin turned into a marker monitor, making sure they all had their lids on and that none left the tables. He always reminded me to put them away in the cupboard after we used them. And he never wrote on anything other than paper and appropriate materials again. :)
June 11, 2011 at 10:43 PM
Oh.my.heart! Kevin was so fortunate to have you as a teacher, even for only 2 years - the effects of which I expect lasted him a long time. Just said a prayer that he found other wonderful teachers to help him along in life.
Perfect, Bethany. And thank you!
Barbara
PS be sure to tweet this post!
June 21, 2011 at 9:13 PM
clever boy, clever teacher. =)
lately i've been making rhema clean some of her messes. i have to hand-over-hand her, and i think she's getting it.
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