Overheard in passing: "All they do is play in there." "I can't wait till that lighthouse is gone."
In spite of this, my memories of this particular classroom experience are almost all positive. It starts and ends with the lighthouse, a structure made by some parent unknown to me and donated to my classroom when I first started what turned out to be my final years of teaching.
It was large and sturdy, taking up a significant portion of the room, but that was OK because we had very little in the way of furniture --- a comfy couch, a table or two, lots of books and toys, and no desks at all. Thanks to the efforts of a very insightful Occupational Therapist, we soon added a swing that was suspended from the ceiling and a sensory table that could be filled with water, sand, oatmeal, corn - or just about anything that might be fun to play with.
My students ranged in age from six to twelve, and had various labels and diagnoses. All but one were mobile, and most could talk, feed themselves and participate in at least some of the regular education curriculum. But their needs were great, and this particular school building hadn't yet had the experience of working to include kids who were seen as so very "challenging."
Yes, indeed, we DID play a lot. One thing all of these kids had in common was a serious deficit in their ability to entertain themselves and have fun. On their IEP it was usually described in some terms related to age-appropriate social skills. (You know the language, I am sure). When we could provide proper support, they attended classes in a regular grade classroom. When they had "down time" they were back in the special ed classroom with me.
We were located in the center of the building - my very favorite location - and other students and teachers walked past our room all day long. Everyone could see the lighthouse as they passed, and everyone could see us "playing."
Jay was the one student who was not mobile due to Cerebral Palsy and he spent his day in a wheelchair. He had use of just one hand, and very little spoken language. When he did speak, he was very hard to understand. He was also the oldest of my students at that time, and magically captured the attention of two of his classmates in his regular fifth grade class. Irene and Kate took a special liking to him, and just happened also to be leaders among their peers. They often gave up recess time to come and hang out with Jay, and in the process became acquainted with Jay's classmates in my room.
It didn't take long for other fifth graders to show a similar interest, and somewhere along the way we switched from being the "special ed room" to being known throughout the school as the "lighthouse room." Then it spread to younger classes, until it became necessary to issue passes to the other regular education teachers to extend the privilege of visiting to others in the building.
Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought to set something like this up. It just sort of happened, and it was a combination of Jay's friendly disposition along with the lighthouse itself and of course all the "fun" things we had in our room. If you are working on age-appropriate social skills, nothing gets better than what Irene and Kate started.
Unfortunately, there was a problem with timing in this too-good-to-be-true situation. Several of my students were successfully using Facilitated Communication throughout the day - to interact with all those visitors, of course, and also to participate in the regular education curriculum. Jay, for instance, had worked diligently with me the previous year to successfully complete a battery of standardized tests that all of our fourth graders had taken - and his results were impressive to all who were paying attention.
The problem came when my book (SEE US SMART!) was publishcd, and the controversy over FC reared its ugly head one more time. The local newspaper got involved once again - and not in a positive way this time. I was told to keep all further use of this method carefully under wraps, and use it only for academic work - not for socializing, and certainly not for discussing personal thoughts or feelings.
More people were now paying attention, and it wasn't working in our favor. As it turned out, we finished out that school year, and I moved to the middle school with Jay and a couple other students, as I eased myself toward retirement. The lighthouse was removed soon afterward, but it's now over 20 years later and I am still trying to shine the light.
This link should take you to an earlier posting about this same classroom experience and an update about how things have changed at that school.
Grandma Char's Lessons Learned: Thoughts about Inclusion (grandmacharslessonslearned.blogspot.com)
(Credit to Vicki Hansen for this poem and image)
