(Following is cross-posted on our sister blog, Readers With Autism.  If you haven’t  already done so, please take a look.  There are other posts of mine there on paraeducators, plus a variety of  articles by Sara on teaching reading to students with autism or hyperlexia who struggle with reading comprehension.)

By Richard Finegan

         You may call me a paraeducator, a paraprofessional, a one-on-one aide, a classroom assistant, a special education technician, even a teacher’s aide (though I am there for the student, not the teacher) but please don’t call me a shadow or describe what I do as shadowing.

         The term shadow suggests that the aide never leaves the side of the child. That describes a bodyguard, not a paraeducator. I would not be doing my job if I hovered as close to my student as Malia Obama’s Secret Service agent.

         True, I am what used to be called (and I still call) a one-on-one aide, and I do move from classroom to classroom with the same child. But my job is to help that student become more independent, more self-regulated and self-sufficient. I’ve never heard anyone explain how this can happen if I am constantly elbow-to-elbow with my kid.

         A better analogy to what we do might be a sheepdog: Constantly alert and watching his or her charges but only moving in and out again as circumstances require. Yes, this analogy works better; shepherding is an improvement over shadowing. Even so, I don’t think I’m quite ready to be called a sheepdog either. Smile.

         This is more than just a semantic issue. When others refer to me as a shadow or to what I do as shadowing, they consciously or unconsciously suggest that I should be sticking like glue to my student and that I am perhaps not doing my job properly if I am halfway across the classroom taking notes or, more often, walking around interacting with other students.

          Worse even is what it suggests to new paraeducators trying to learn to do what we do. What they should be hearing is: Get up. Step back. Give your student some room to grow!

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By Sara Finegan

         An inordinate number of kids are growing up without learning their multiplication facts.  Some of this is due to the prevalent use of calculators.  Some is due to the fact that there’s been an overall rejection of rote learning – throwing the baby out with the bathwater, in this case, I think.  Some of it is due to low numeracy as a result of math disabilities. 

         Many kids with learning disabilities really struggle with numbers and their values.  And, I think, it also has to do with processing memory and retention of information that isn’t used on a regular basis.

         I think there’s a place for rote learning of math facts in a demanding classroom.   The only way to learn multiplication facts and what happens when you add ten to a number is to recite them over and over in some way or another. 

         The way I use is skip-counting.  Skip-counting can be done starting at any age, and should continue to be done if not daily, then at least several times a week once the kids know the routine.

 I cannot stress enough the importance of visual cuing when it comes to math.  In this case, a giant number line, or individual number lines to 100 for each student are  in order.  You can also use individual multiplication charts or a giant one; the point is that the kids have to have the numbers 1-100 in front of them when they are skip-counting, at least during the first few months.

           A lot of teachers practice skip-counting with their students through 3, 4, and 5 multiplication facts, and then stop.  As a result, many kids know their multiplication facts through five, and can’t go higher.  Don’t let this happen.

         It can be a part of your daily routine to start with 3, and have the kids skip-count to 60.  Move to 4, then 5, and 6.  Once they know those, move to 7 and 8.  Practice them religiously.  I like to point at the numbers on a chart or number line with a pointer or a yardstick at first, but later it becomes a favorite reward for a student to be allowed to stand at the front of the class and cue the numbers. 

         It doesn’t take long for kids to internalize the facts as they continue to skip-count regularly.  But here’s the deal:  You can’t stop here. 

         One mistake I’ve seen over and over again is special educators working on skip-counting with their students and then never extending the skill into actual math problems.  And when I say “actual math problems,” I don’t mean a standard multiplication worksheet.  I mean math problems that require critical thinking.

         There’s no point in rote learning unless the information learned by rote is applied in complex situations.  Skip-counting alone, in a vacuum, has little meaning.  We need our students to be able to use the math facts to solve word problems, to reason through division problems, to figure out the value of x, and to  calculate prices and amounts. 

          So teach the multiplication facts by rote, but then require your students to use them, and use them in a variety of ways.  Only in this way will they truly be learning.

          In a demanding classroom, rote memorization has a place in supporting mastery of facts to be used in deeper-level situations.

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By Sara Finegan 

         Kids with learning disabilities often struggle with reading comprehension.   As I stated in an earlier post, reading comprehension is a relationship with the written word comprised of a number of behaviors.  One of these behaviors is inferring.  

         Making inferences about characters, the setting, motives, the problem, and possible solutions requires that a reader move beyond literal comprehension and start putting pieces of the story together.  This is often very difficult for the struggling reader and when a child has expressive or receptive language deficits, it can be even more complicated.

         In General Education, we teach that making inferences while we read is like reading  between the lines to see what the author is showing us about what’s going on in the story.  This is an excellent explanation for most of us, but when a child is a concrete thinker who focuses almost entirely on the surface meaning of things, it doesn’t resonate very well.

          Students with learning disabilities who don’t make inferences while reading are not going to learn how to do so by explanation:  I can yack all I want about inferring and even model how it’s done, but that is unlikely to have positive results unless we get the kids to actually start doing it.

          And the way to do that is to show the kids that they already do make inferences, constantly, in their own lives.

          Start by taking a look at the types of inferences we all make each and every day: 

• We infer how people are feeling by their facial expressions and body language.
• We infer people’s attitudes by comments they make and tones of voice. 
• We make inferences about why our students are behaving certain ways based on what we know of their home situations, health, or relationships with their peers. 

           I like to tell the kids stories about real-life events and encourage them to recognize the inferences we make:

Me:  Yesterday morning, the sink in the kitchen was clogged, and my husband spent about 30 minutes before we left for school trying to fix it.  I was popping in and out to check on his progress while I was getting dressed.  He had his head in the plumbing and was giving these deep sighs, like this (sighing heavily) and muttering under his breath like this (muttering) and at one point he even cursed at the cats.  (Pause for comments.) 

Me:  Anyone?

Jonathan:  Oh, he was mad.

Sandra:  I bet he was frustrated! 

Me:  See, you two made excellent inferences!  Jonathan, what made you infer that he was angry? 

Jonathan:  He was cursing.  And that muttering thing. 

Me:  Yep, yep.  And Sandra, how did you know he was frustrated? 

Sandra:  He was sighing.  And muttering.  And my dad curses when he’s frustrated or mad. 

Me:  Terrific!  Both of you could support your inferences with info from my story.  Anyway, this afternoon when we came home, he called the plumber.  I had to go to the grocery store, so I missed it when the plumber got there.  But when I came home, Richard was calling to the bank to find out how much money we have in our account, and looking very serious.  He said “We might not be able to buy that new stereo this month.”  (Pause for comments.) 

Jayme:  He was disappointed. 

Simone:  It’s going to be expensive to fix the sink. 

Me:  Oh, wow!  Two good inferences!  Jayme, what made you infer that he was disappointed?

 Jayme:  Because he looked serious and he can’t buy the new stereo now.

 Me:  Ah, good!  Simone?  What makes you infer that the repair is going to cost a lot of money? 

Simone:  Because he had to call the bank. 

Me:  Anything else?

Tommy:  Because he won’t be able to afford the new stereo.

TIP:  Keep showing the kids how they already make a lot of inferences.  Name what they’re doing:  they won’t connect the fact that they’re making inferences with the reading strategy unless it has a name that is used frequently and that they understand through experience.

          The next step involves making inferences about visuals in print.  I like to use cartoons and comics.  I’ve got a bunch of them laminated that I pull out and let the kids mess with for awhile.  I like to listen to them talk about the pictures, and I ask some open-ended questions, such as “how do the people feel?”  “Why is he doing that?”  “What is the problem in this picture?” 

         When we have a share-out about the comics and illustrations, we identify all of the inferences that the kids have made.  Then I explain that they are going to learn how to do it when they read stories, too.  

         You can also have kids practice making inferences during read-aloud time.  When you are reading a high-interest story out loud, whether it’s Harry Potter, or The Book of Three, or Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing, you can pause periodically and ask for some inferences.  Keep a chart of all of the inferences the students suggest, and ask them to track those inferences as the story moves on. 

         I like to have kids do some short-text inferring practice in guided reading groups and also independently before they move to practicing the strategy with their independent reading books.  You can throw together some paragraphs and multiple-choice or short answer worksheets that ask kids to make inferences about characters or situations based on passages.  I’ve included some here as examples.

         Practicing making inferences in independent reading work should take place over a period of time with accountability and exclusivity. 

• When I say “a period of time,” I mean that you should encourage and support the reader for between a week and a month as she or he develops competence in the strategy. 
• When I say “accountability,” I mean that your student needs to be able to show you the inferences being made.  Sometimes this can be by giving the child post-its and asking him or her to record each inference on a post-it during reading time and placing the post-it in the margin of the passage in question.  Then, during conferring time, you can talk about the inferences made and see how the child is thinking and processing.  This will give you insight into where there still may be some weaknesses and what supports you might need to add.
• When I say “exclusivity,” I mean that we should not ask a child to practice more than one brand-new comprehension strategy at a time.  Give the student time to develop strength and ability in making inferences, to gain experience in how it’s done and what it means during his or her independent reading. 

         There will be time later to work on other strategies.  In a demanding classroom, students learn one step at a time, strengthening each new facet of thinking until it can be added to their repertoire of skills.

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By Sara Finegan 

         Kids with expressive and receptive language deficits need to learn how to use and understand words.    The speech section of the brain is an amazing thing, and synapses can be created, formed, and reformed without medical intervention.  It is by using and reusing words, practicing them in different contexts over and over again, that our students can overcome, or at least significantly diminish their language disabilities. 

         One of our favorite ways in the classroom is to play Jeopardy.

          I use Jeopardy games primarily for Social Studies, but it can be adapted for any content area.  All you need is some sort of board (I took a large portable bulletin board or white board, covered it with contact paper, and it can stand on an easel quite easily), a document camera, those little envelopes they put in books at the library (or laminated construction paper envelopes you affix to the board), and index cards. 

         I keep five columns of four card slots each on the board at all times.  Then I can switch around the categories and the answer cards with ease.

NOTE:  Our school district is putting smart boards, or Promethean Activboard smart boards in all of our classrooms.  (Lucky us!) This is going to change the way I do Jeopardy because I can set up a Jeopardy game right on the computer and work with it on the smart board.  But I haven’t done that yet.

         If you’re not familiar with the television game show, Jeopardy, it’s essentially a trivia game where the answers are provided and the contestants have to formulate the correct questions.  In a demanding classroom, we play Jeopardy at least once a week, sometimes twice, depending on where we are in a social studies unit, and our games last anywhere from 40 minutes to an hour and a half, depending on how much fun the kids are having.  And they have a lot of fun.

          All of the “trivia” in our games consists of information from our current social studies unit. 

TIP:  As the year goes on, our Jeopardy game may expand to include prior units.  Thus, at the end of last year, one category was about ancient India, one about ancient China, one about ancient Mesopotamia, and on category was just about vocabulary related to history.

         Most of the time, the categories are something like this:  geography, lifestyle, religion, leaders.  But that is not cut in stone; we often have a vocabulary category, one on military matters, one about trade, one about inventions.  It just depends, as I said, on where we are in the unit.

          I will preface my description of the game by saying that you should not have high expectations at first.  At the beginning of the year, students will just not do very well and will need lots and lots of coaching and extra time.  Even later in the year, in the early part of a unit, kids just aren’t as familiar with the facts as they will be.  What’s amazing is that within a matter of a day or two, the kids are really learning, integrating the facts, internalizing the information, which is better than simple memorization.  And did I mention they are having FUN?

How do I know this?  Because years later, my students are able to discuss with ease historical facts and ideas and concepts that they learned long ago in our classroom.  My student teacher, on a tour of the school by one of my students this year, was treated to a long description of  prehistoric humans and the development of key concepts including domestication of animals and plants, inventions of new tools, and ideas about religion and nature.  Another of my students from years ago recently texted me that he got an A in world history in high school because he had so much background knowledge from our sixth and seventh grade history class.

         Jeopardy is played, at the beginning, with teams of two or three students.  You’ll find that as the year progresses, many students want to play alone, and others will still want a partner.  This is fine.  It’s great, even.  And you’ll be amazed at who emerges as the stars of the game, confident in their ability to formulate correct questions properly.

         I have prewritten the answers on index cards and put them in the slots or envelopes on the Jeopardy board before we begin. (when the kids see me changing the cards earlier in the day, they get excited knowing that we’re going to play – they really look forward to it.)

          The first team picks a category and an amount (I have 100, 200, 300 and 500 points as our amounts, but you can use any numbers you like).  I pull the appropriate card, and show it under the document camera.  (This is a big help to those kids who are visual learners and need to see the words of the “answer,” not just hear them.)  I remind the team to put their response in question form.  I don’t use a timer, because I want the kids to feel pretty relaxed as they figure out their response and put it in the proper words.

 An example of an “answer” might be:  Wheat and barley.  The proper question could be:  “What grains did the ancient Mesopotamian farmers raise?” or “What are two grains domesticated by Mesopotamian  farmers?” 

         Periodically, I do a mini lesson or reminder lesson about clues we can use to determine the question form.  Sometimes, the kids need reminders, for example, that an answer that contains a date needs a question that starts with “when”, or that a location implies a “where” question.  Often, however, I’ll catch kids coaching each other on this, even if they are on different teams.

         According to our former Speech Language Pathologist, the effort of thought it takes the kids to use the answer/fact to form a question is a challenge that results in significant improvements in their speech skills.  We’ve noticed a huge jump in confidence, mastery of facts and concepts with great ease, and a terrific increase in use of rich vocabulary and complex sentences.  

         We also have a classroom full of history buffs, who are proud to demonstrate their mastery and expertise  both orally and in writing. 

          In a demanding classroom, kids talk about information in a variety of ways instead of just repeating back what we tell them.

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 By Sara Finegan

         A huge number of students with IEPs, particularly in elementary school, have expressive and/or receptive language deficits. 

         Difficulty finding the right words can mean that a child struggles to speak in complete sentences, but most commonly, I think, it manifests in a child’s inability to come up with specific verbs, nouns, adjectives, and adverbs.   What does this look like in a classroom?  It looks like this: 

• Excessive use of what I call “cottonball” words – vague, generic words such as “things”, “stuff”, “that one”;
• Use of bland verbs such as “went”, “does”, “says”; and
• An absence of most adjectives and almost no use of adverbs at all.

         Difficulty in understanding words is a little different.  I will never forget working with one of my students on a math word problem, trying to figure out where he was getting stuck, and finally realizing that he really didn’t understand the difference between “each” and “every”.  (What do we call these, distributive adjectives?)  This presents a problem not just in math, but in science and other subject areas that require students to follow directions, visualize, or comprehend text.

         We teachers need to recognize both types of disabilities, and carefully craft ways to teach students to use language, and ways to cope with their deficits.  If we do not do both, we are going to shortchange some very bright kids who simply are lacking the right tools to make it known.

Sorting Cards for new vocabulary 

         One of the first interventions I ever used in my classroom is one that I continue to implement on an almost-daily basis.  It’s one of the simplest ideas, and the materials are cheap and always right at hand:  markers and index cards.  I call them Sorting Cards, because they are, well, cards that my students sort.  They also do other things with them, and I’ll explain that as we go along here.

         How they work:  A sorting card is an index card with a word written on it.  I make cards for every new vocabulary word in social studies and science.  I also make cards of verbs associated with the vocabulary words.  Thus, for example, if in our study of an ancient civilization the new words are:   loom, weaver, pottery, potter, fabric, flax, craftsman, agora, peddler, merchant – the verbs might be:  created, manufactured, designed, wove, sold, bought.    As we proceed through a unit, we add cards about farming and crops, government, religion, etc. 

         At first, I just have the kids read through the cards in pairs or small groups, familiarizing them with the vocabulary as new sight words.   I want them to recognize the words automatically, as that will eliminate any struggles to decode the words during later activities.

         Then I start having them create sentences using the words.  I might model:  If I take “agora”, “merchant”, “sold”, I can say “merchants sold goods at the agora.”  My aide or I will work with them at first, then gradually withdraw to  the kids make up their own sentences.  The particularly good sentences get written down on chart paper in the classroom.

         As the kids become more and more comfortable with the rich vocabulary, I start them on sorting activities.  By this time, we have a huge stack of cards (25-50) all relating to whatever unit we are studying.  I ask pairs of kids to work together to sort the cards into categories.  At the beginning of the year, I will suggest the categories for them (“how about farming, trade, religion, and government?”) but later on, they become quite good at determining the proper group names.  The students work together to sort the cards into the chosen categories.  When they’re done, my aide or I will take a look at what they’ve done. 

         We ask the kids to justify their organizational choices.  We do this for several reasons.  First, some words can go in several categories, and we are always interested in understanding why the kids chose one or the other.  Second, it’s a good way to make sure the kids really understand the words.  Third, we want the kids to be able to explain their thinking.  That way, if they put a word in an obviously wrong category, we can quickly grasp the nature of the error, and help repair the misunderstanding.

         What happens with the sorting card activities is that the kids engage in conversation with each other about the words and concepts that the words represent.  They begin to use the words themselves, both in our class discussions and in their writing.    I’ll hear them encouraging each other to use specific words:  Last week, as my kids were starting to write about Ancient Egyptian farming, Benny said to Alex, “they what canals?  They……you don’t want to say “made”, do you?  How about “dug”?

        My students don’t talk about making fabric, but weaving it, not writers but scribes, not strength but power, not winning a war, but conquering, or, in the alternative, victory.

...trot, run, jog...

         Sorting cards aren’t just for content-area vocabulary.  We develop series of cards to practice and learn different ways of saying things – not just similes, but similar acts.  For example, we might make an entire set of cards related to the way we get from one place to the other (amble, wander, climb, crawl, walk, trot, run, jog, fly, race, tiptoe, creep, dance, skip, gallop……)  I’ll mix those cards up with cards from other categories (ways of expressing words:  “yelp, whine, whimper, moan, gabble, whisper, yell, shout, screech…).

         I’ll put several categories of words together and have groups of kids sort them and reorganize them in like groups.  Just as happens with the content-area words, the kids begin to recognize the words, and use them, at first with prompts, and then independently. 

         As the kids use and re-use words, work with them and rework them, a great thing happens in their brains:  the words start popping forward as they think and speak.  More and more automatically, they choose specific  words instead of generic ones, richer vocabulary instead of bland words. 

         You might be wondering if the same lessons can be taught the standard way, with worksheets and mini-lessons.  Possibly, but not with as much engagement and sharing.  Maybe, but not with the relaxation and ease that comes when kids work together, without writing, to use words in ways that are new to them.  Perhaps, but I don’t think that the increase in vocabulary lasts, or that the synapses that are linked and refired when the kids talk together and experiment and think about how to use the words occurs.

         In a demanding classroom, kids use vocabulary, they don’t just memorize it.  When they use it, it becomes a part of them.

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By Sara Finegan

         I post on a lot of message boards about learning disabilities and autism, and I also get a lot of emails from people who are following my blogs.  One of the most frequent topics is:  how a teacher told a parent that a student “doesn’t have reading comprehension.”

         Naturally, the parents want to know what to do. 

         The problem, of course, is that reading comprehension isn’t something you “HAVE” or “GET”, as in purchasing at a store or obtaining through a tutor.  You can’t put it on and take it off like a sweater, and you can’t keep it in the fridge until you need it.

         Reading comprehension is all about a reader’s relationship to text, and is based almost entirely on his or  her engagement and interaction with the piece being read.  It’s the relationship.  Relationship, relationship, relationship.

         Thinking of it in terms of a relationship leads me to the next step, which is to ask whether, when a friend discusses  a relationship that is flawed or failing, we simply let him or her  say “it’s not good” and leave it at that, or whether we start probing and asking questions to try to piece out what’s going on (or not going on).

         If you’re the kind of person who runs a demanding classroom, that’s exactly what you do.

What is this relationship with text made up of? 

         What behaviors does one see in a good relationship with text?  I’m ready to talk about a few, and will post more at another time.

         We’ll start with fiction and narrative.  (The relationship a reader has with informational, non-fiction text involves some different behaviors, so that will be the topic of another post.)  Research has shown that good readers of fiction do a number of different things when they read: 

• They visualize what they are reading about.  Like a movie in one’s head, a good reader sees what the text is describing.  This helps the reader enter into the world of the story, and leads to all sorts of other behaviors we like to see.
• They make inferences based on what they’re reading.  Good readers know that, in the best stories, the author shows you what’s happening instead of telling you directly, and they are able to infer ideas, feelings, and motives, not to mention facts, from what the author does with words.
• They ask questions as they read.  Lots of questions, knowing that they will find the answers in the story as it moves along.  This is done especially when they are trying to figure out what is going on, but also when they are thinking about things like character motives, and the conflict in the story.
• They use their background knowledge (personal, and from other stories they’ve read, as well as knowledge about the genre) to make predictions.  A good reader is going to know in a fantasy novel that there is going to be a struggle between good and evil, and that magical or fantastical creatures are probably going to play a role in the battle.  A good reader is going to use her personal knowledge of what it’s like to be the youngest in the family to predict how a baby sister may react during a family holiday. 
• They make connections between their own experiences and feelings and those of characters in the book.  They also make connections between world events and issues and people and events in the book.  And they make connections between stories, comparing one character in a book to a character in another book, etc.
• They check for understanding, pausing periodically to make sure they know what’s happening, and going back and re-reading if it’s unclear to them.

         It is our obligation as teachers to investigate, when a child clearly isn’t understanding what she or he is reading, what behaviors the child is engaging in, and what reading behaviors are weak.  It is based on this information that we can devise interventions that work, supports that help the child begin to make meaning from text.

         In a demanding classroom, the staff pays attention to each reader, keeping notes or logs about conferring sessions, guided reading interactions, and other data that will help them determine what skills to teach next. 

          In a demanding classroom, the teacher can, with pretty good specificity, explain to parents and colleagues what particular areas of need the child has with regard to his or her relationship to a book or story. 

          And in a demanding classroom, a report at a parent conference that “Johnny doesn’t understand what he’s reading” is followed immediately by  “and I have observed him and conferred with him, and I think here’s what’s going on and what our next steps should be.” 

For more of my posts on reading comprehension teaching strategies, see our other blog, Readers With Autism: http://readerswithautism.com .

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By Sara Finegan

         I’m a big fan of homework, but it has to be meaningful homework, and it has to be customized to fit your learners and their current skill levels.  Here are my thoughts about designing home practice in a demanding classroom:

It must be purposeful.

         Homework for the sake of homework is detrimental to a struggling learner. Kids aren’t stupid, and they know on some level, no matter how old they are, if you are just making work for them because you think that’s what teachers are supposed to do.

         The purpose of homework in a demanding classroom is to:  

• give the child additional practice in a newly-learned concept or skill and
• to provide a structure for a task they should be doing on a regular basis.

         When it comes to additional practice, a demanding classroom teacher designs a set of practice problems or questions that address what was worked on that day in class.  Examples might be: 5-10 addition problems; a set of similar word problems that require the child to set up an equation; comprehension questions that pertain to one or two plot features; practice making inferences based on short pieces of text.

         There are some excellent workbooks available in stores and online that provide practice problems in many content areas.  There are also some awful ones.  I remember a child I worked with in an after-school program who had a reading homework packet that was obviously written in the 1960’s: it was dry, pedantic, and completely uninteresting to me and the student.

A goal should be to establish a sense of competence.

         I do not want my students to have their parents do their homework, spend hours with their child struggling to get it done, or to leave the kitchen table feeling utterly drained and unskilled.

         I want my students to leave the homework table feeling like they get it, or are on the way to getting it. I want them to feel able.  Now this is not going to happen all the time, particularly when we’re learning new skill sets.

But if, over time, the student is confident that in general, he or she is going to be able to master the skills, or retain the information, or do the task fairly well, most kids will be willing to struggle a bit from time to time at home.

A homework routine should create study habits.

         Almost every school urges children to read for 30 minutes or more per day at home.  Thirty minutes is a lot for a child who has little reading stamina, or who struggles mightily with decoding or comprehension. This kind of assignment, without any other components, isn’t going to help a child with learning disabilities as much as it could with a few modifications.

         If a child is not able to read for 30 minutes in class without losing focus or melting down, do not require it at home.  Build stamina slowly.  A student who can only read for three minutes should be given a 3-5 minute reading assignment for home, followed by a book on tape or a story a parent is willing to read out loud. (Reading homework is not always just about reading skill, but also about our relationship to text and how we think about stories – books on CD, tape or read aloud can do just fine.)

         At a certain age and stage, kids can be taught how to write a reading response.  This is an extremely important skill and needs to be built in layers, slowly, with lots of practice.  The practice can be done at home, provided that you give the child examples to follow or a formula to use in the initial practice stages.  In early grades, a reading response can be an illustration with two or three sentences about a character or your opinion about the book.

          My fifth and sixth graders are currently, in the fall of the year, writing three-paragraph responses: a summary of what they read; a description of a character or the problem; a connection that they are making to the story or to a character.  By the end of the year I hope they will be doing deeper thinking and writing, but we are taking it one step at a time. Right now, their daily reading homework includes writing the response (yes, daily, though at least one child dictates to his grandmother because the act of writing is driving him crazy) because I want it to become an automatic habit for them in preparation for middle school.

As much as possible, coordinate, communicate, and negotiate with your partners: the parents.

         We don’t want parents doing the homework, but we want them to support it.  Nobody knows a child better than his or her parents, and we need to be responsive to them with regard to the work we send home.

          Right now, I have a couple of students who have major difficulties with attention.  One of them has autism and ADHD; the other has ADHD.  Both of them have parents who are excellent about notifying me when homework is just too much.  In these kinds of cases, we need to make accommodations and reduce the amount of homework in one or more ways.

• We might limit the number of problems to solve on a math set, or require less reading.
• We might change the type of work to be done.  Multiple choice or short-answer, fill-in-the-blank homework works better for these kids than other kinds of comprehension or social studies assignments.
•  We might change the way the homework needs to be done.  Both of my students are allowed to dictate their reading responses to a parent or grandparent, because getting them to sit down and write after school, when meds are wearing off and the brain is tired is not going to be a pleasant experience.
• We might give choices.  One of my students, who has moderately-functioning autism, fought homework at home for a long time.  When he came to my classroom, I provided three to four tasks to be done at home – and instructed him to pick two.  This gives him the power over the work, not me over him, and has made him voluntarily do his homework, without difficulty, when he gets home.

A goal should be to build internal drive and the self-discipline to get the practice done.

         I don’t want my students’ parents to spend hours fighting with their kids to get work done.  I also don’t want students neglecting their home practice.  Home practice needs to become a routine, a habit.

          In a demanding classroom, this is done with incentives as well as consequences.

          An immediate, automatic, small reward needs to be given to kids with learning disabilities when they turn in their homework.  As homework is checked in, kids can receive a sticker, a punch on “daily work index card”, a raffle ticket (dollar store prizes at a drawing once a week or every two weeks) or some other desired privilege.  It should be automatic and not served with effusive praise unless the child has a history of not turning in homework, in which case positive comments are a good re-enforcement.

         If you have other students check in homework, kids will be far more invested in getting it done. It’s hard to face a teacher or aide and explain why homework was not done, but for some reason it’s even harder to face your peers when all of them have been working hard.  This can be especially true if there’s a class-wide reward for 100% homework turned in, a ploy I use every now and then ($5 pizzas from Little Caesars work every time).  In general, the incentives should be small and cheap.

         Consequences are more complicated.The traditional “you miss recess” consequence is not a good idea in most special education classrooms, where kids need to get outside and move around as a kinesthetic break from the intellectual activity you’re piling on.

         I’ve been experimenting with a form letter that goes home, filled out by the student, for parents to read and sign.  It’s on bright orange paper, and can’t be missed by anyone coming even close to a backpack, and it requires the student to acknowledge work that wasn’t done and ask for help creating a plan to do it.  I keep all of them in my students’ portfolio folders, and it’s a great visual – neon orange is eye-catching.

         Restriction of free time until the homework is made up is a pretty good consequence, though again, many students, particularly those with autism or who have sensory issues need to have some minutes of free time between tasks in order to keep their minds working well.

         I’m inclined to use restriction from weekly class-wide fun activities as a consequence for not doing homework.  If the last ½ hour of class on Friday is reserved for cupcakes or a great game, kids who didn’t do homework during the week can sit in another classroom or in the office to make up their work.

         The combination of incentives and meaningful but not devastating consequences in a demanding classroom helps students learn good work habits at home and in school.

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By Sara Finegan 

         I’m all in favor of worksheets, as long as they are challenging, require the students to write complete thoughts with detail as opposed to one-word answers, and as long as they are designed for a purpose other than just seat work. 

         The danger of using worksheets in a special ed classroom is that you will inadvertently or through ignorance keep the kids at the most basic levels of  intellectual behavior. 

          We want the kids to move up, not remain static.  This can be done when the information and concepts they learn are re-enforced at ever-increasing levels of intellectual demand.

          I use worksheets in social studies and science to teach and re-enforce students’ independent thinking and learning.  They are designed to get kids thinking, finding information that they’ve learned already, and using it appropriately.  When the system works well, it creates a ladder upwards for kids to move through the critical thinking levels of Bloom’s Taxonomy:

         In many special ed classrooms, students stay at the Knowledge level and never proceed upwards.  In others, Knowledge and Understanding are the sum total of the instructional plan.

         Such limitations will re-enforce student reliance on adults for learning. 

         Such limitations will teach kids that learning is all about knowledge, not what you do with it.

We use charts, and more charts 

        In a typical unit of Social Studies, we will create 5-10 charts of information about a culture, civilization, or era.

          I like to create “thinking maps” (also known as “mindmaps”) while we’re studying, and use different colors of marker to delineate the categories of data we are taking in. 

         We also create mindmaps that have a standard organization; for example, kids know that “Lifestyles” is usually on the right hand side of the “spider,” and time periods and locations are in the upper left and upper middle of the map.

         These charts are posted all around the room or pulled off of hangers to display when we are doing content-area work.  They are used for a variety of activity types, all designed to promote ever-increasing critical thinking among the students. 

         The purpose is for kids to learn where to find and retrieve information that they learn. I don’t require them to memorize historical information.  They will, of course, by the time we’re done with a unit, but the goal is actually for them to be able to apply the facts to ongoing themes of understanding and analyze these themes as we continue to learn.

          I create worksheets several times per week throughout the course of a unit.   When we begin to study a topic, the questions are all knowledge-based: 

• When did Menes unify Upper and Lower Egypt? 
• Where did Homo Habilis live? 
• Which tribes lived in the southeast region of North America?
• Who paid for the Mayflower Pilgrims’ passage to America? 
• List two grains grown by colonists in Virginia.

         Students are encouraged to get up and move around the room looking for the answers to the questions.   (See related topic, “Moving into Learning.”)   They quickly learn in my classroom that they can predict where they’ll find information, using the color-coded organization of the mindmaps. 

I repeat questions using different forms and formats, because I do want the kids to begin to really internalize the facts.  Thus, in almost every worksheet on the Ancient Maya, I’ll have similar questions about religion, clothing, food, and government.  Similar, but not identical, because I want kids to see that we can think of the same information in different ways.

         As we progress through the unit and the kids do more and more searching for and finding facts, the information begins to embed into the kids’ memory banks.  As this happens, I want them to start using the information they have more readily available, and I want them to  think more deeply about the information.

         My questions become more complex or demanding.  I might begin to ask: 

• What did Menes do to symbolize his control over both Upper and Lower Egypt? 
• Why didn’t Homo Habilis eat a lot of meat? 
• Why did many tribes in the southeast region have separate villages in the summer and winter? 
• Why did the  Virginia Company agreed to lend the Pilgrims the money to travel to America?  
• Why didn’t the colonists in Connecticut grow rice?

TIP:  One of the first things we decide in my class at the beginning of the year is how to answer questions. 

We decide what constitutes knowledge and what shows that someone is a smart thinker.  We decide that one or two word answers do not show either knowledge or smart thinking.  We determine that all questions should be answered in complete sentences, unless I specifically state otherwise. 

         We also decide that the use of appropriate word choice is important.  This is something that we work on strengthening throughout the year, and expectations raise as we go.  Within a few months, kids know that verbs such as  “were” and “had” need to be abandoned in favor of more specific ones, such as “resided,” “lived,” “created,” or “contained.”  “Many” and “numerous” replace “a lot.”  “Crafts,” “artifacts,” “tools,” and “belongings” are used instead of “things.”

         Later questions are more open-ended and require the kids to utilize the facts to come to and defend conclusions.  I might give a short paragraph describing an archeological excavation in Spain that uncovers a small settlement used by prehistoric peoples.  Archeologists find remnants of a campfire with animal bones, and a hand axe.  The time period in which they were used is approximately 1.5 million years ago. 

         The kids are asked to identify the probable species of early human who used the settlement, and explain their reasoning.   I will expect them to discuss the use of fire and tools as well as the time period to substantiate their conclusion that it belonged to Homo Erectus.

          By the middle of the year when we study Ancient Civilizations, my students are expected to answer the following question: 

If you were an archeologist wanting to begin an excavation in Ancient China looking for the remnants of the earliest settlements, what points would you look for on a map and why?

         I would expect all of my students to be able to articulate that one would look near a fresh water source, because people needed water to drink and to water their crops. 

         By mid-year, I expect my students to be describing  the types of information they are going to learn when they open to the newest unit in the textbook, and to make predictions using their considerable bank of background knowledge about what each culture or civilization contained as it grew and developed.

         In a demanding classroom, kids are expected to retrieve and use information, not just have it.

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By Sara Finegan

         I’m teaching a general education math class this year that includes many of my own kids with learning disabilities as well as kids who do not have IEPs.  We’re  about six days behind the other class at the same grade level, and both of us finished the first two units well before the district’s first math benchmark assessment. 

          Greg Roy, my general education colleague, has, as I have said before on this blog, taught me a great deal about math and math instruction.   He and I disagree about mastery, by the way, but that doesn’t impair our ability to collaborate.   He moves at his speed, and I move at a different one,  but we’re both moving forward.

          Anyway, Greg’s a proponent of math routines, and he does them at the beginning of the day as well as at the beginning of a math class.  Routines are great, for several reasons. 

          • First, they provide kids with ongoing practice of previously-learned skills.  My routines always have problems from lessons we have worked on since the beginning of the year – usually types of problems the kids struggled with mightily, so that the skills will become firmly embedded. 

(A recent math routine had a word problem involving adding negative numbers, 2 fraction simplifications, 1 changing from mixed fraction to improper fraction, 1 changing improper fraction to a mixed number, and 2 dealing with multiplying decimals by 10, because my kids bombed that area on the last unit test for some reason, as well as a problem from yesterday’s lesson.)

         The kids get to use their notes and math encyclopedias on the routines, and we go over the results really quickly.  The whole thing takes about 15 minutes each day. 

         • The second benefit of a daily routine is that they give you a snapshot of each student at that moment.  This is particularly helpful as you plan your instruction.  I can tell at a glance how many of the kids in my class have mastered yesterday’s lesson or skill, and what the next steps might be.  Because I make my kids show their work on each routine, I can pinpoint where in the process of problem-solving they are struggling. 

          • Finally they give kids a terrific sense of competence.  As they experience over a series of weeks and months the increasing ease of solving problems using skills they’ve learned, they realize that they can do it, that they are actually good at it. 

         The other day, a parent of one of my general education math students told me that her daughter, who has always struggled with math, is coming home saying “hey, mom!  I’m smart at math!”  This student is the first to raise her hand in my class, the first to want to show the class how she solved a problem, the first to ask questions, and the first to finish her work these days.  It’s not because of me; it’s because every day, when she starts learning math, she is reminded that she’s already got terrific skills.

          Many special educators neglect daily routines, or don’t make their routines as comprehensive as they should be.  We need to recognize that our kids should have multiple opportunities, over a long period of time, to practice newly-mastered skills, or those skills will evaporate like steam after a shower. 

          We need to challenge our kids daily, while at the same time reminding them that they have ability already, or they will never challenge themselves, and never remind themselves of how far they’ve come.

          We need to push, push, push our kids, using all of their strengths, innate and learned, or they will never catch up to their general education peers. 

          In a demanding classroom, mastery is not something to be admired and then ignored; it’s about skill sets we use, reuse, and apply in newer ways on a regular basis.

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By Sara Finegan 

         My colleague, Laurie Vierra, is a Special Education Intern this year with a special day class of third and fourth graders, having taken advantage of our district’s offer to pay for general education teachers to move into and obtain a Masters in Special Ed.  

         A background in the general education standards, pacing, and instructional methods are great assets in the special ed classroom.  Laurie knows what her students need to be able to do in order to function at grade level, and she’s interested in lifting them up to that level.  She has no sense of comfort with student dependence or any belief that a learning deficit is a static thing that can never be repaired. 

         She certainly isn’t under the impression that a learning disability prevents anyone from doing grade-level work.

         This was, at first, a little bit disconcerting to the students in her class and some of their parents, who are used to the program of the teacher she is replacing: 

• Gone are the days when the teacher and the teacher aide (para-educator) will go into student backpacks to retrieve homework:  she will not accept assignments turned in by anyone other than the student.   
• Nowhere in her classroom does the aide sit with students and follow a written script for instruction and support. 
• Students don’t get candy for behaving or finishing their work.   
• Students in Laurie’s class have homework every day, including weekends.  And parents can’t do it for their kids.
• Kids have to get their own pencils and paper; the aide is no longer running across the room to bring the students supplies.
• The work the kids do at home and in class is meaningful; there’s no such thing as “sponge work,” and every lesson and assignment is directed toward a reachable educational goal.  

         I’m interested to see what will happen as the year progresses, and Laurie alters her students’ IEP goals to better reflect state standards.   Almost all of the kids in her class had identical goals during the past couple of years, regardless of what their needs and strengths were.  

         I have a feeling that Laurie is already redesigning and reworking the expectations for each child; I know for a fact that she’s got a clear idea of what each child needs to learn in order to reach higher objectives.  If I know Laurie, she will be custom-creating goals that will actually move her students toward grade-level work.

         That class is moving, kicking and screaming perhaps at first, but more and more confidently into demanding, high-quality work.  I’m delighted, because it means that when the kids come my room for fifth and sixth grade, I won’t spend a year working to develop independent learners.

It was not always this way… 

         A few years ago, I opened my classroom to five new fourth graders, three of whom were GATE (gifted and talented) certified and all of whom, the teacher told me, were proficient in math, reading, and writing. 

         They’d scored high on the state’s standardized tests the previous spring and were just wonderful kids.  She advised that they should all be mainstreamed for math, and that four of them could attend a general education social studies or science class. 

She was right that they were wonderful kids.  I adore them.  But they were not wonderful students, not yet.

• During the first week, one of them spent six hours in the classroom crying because she wanted the lower-grades special day class (SDC) aide to come and sit with her. 
• During the first week, all of them failed the beginning of the year math inventory which reflected what they had learned the previous year.  Only one of them demonstrated anything close to mastery of some of the math modules for the previous year.
• During the first month, I discovered that they had no idea how to talk or think about what they were reading:  their idea of reading comprehension was to parrot back what the text said. 
• When I administered an On-Demand writing assessment that asked them to describe their favorite experience the previous summer, none of them wrote more than three sentences. 
• Three of them lasted less than two weeks in a general education math class because they weren’t able to follow the lessons.   
• None of them were able to participate in science or social studies, because they couldn’t get accustomed to the concept of active, engaged learning.  They sat passively through instruction, and waited during independent work time for someone to tell them what to do instead of reading the directions.
• I discovered on their first benchmark test that they were used to having all assessments read to them, even though four of them read at the third grade level or higher.  When they did in-class assignments, they expected me or our aide to sit with them and tell them what to do next.

The children were shorthchanged…

         Their previous teacher did them a grave disservice.  She sent me five very intelligent kids who hadn’t a clue how to learn.  It wasn’t their fault; they’d never been taught how to think or had thinking skills modeled for them. 

         My former colleague never worked in general education, never entered a general education classroom, and felt safe only in her cocooned Special Day Classroom, where she could nurture her students and coddle them.

         Laurie’s work is already showing results, and it’s just the beginning of November.  She’s participating in a fourth-grade team with two other general education teachers:  she took on social studies, and has a reverse-mainstreaming thing going on in her classroom; she teaches a rigorous math class to her students and some of the lower-scoring kids in general ed (and three of my students, fifth and sixth graders who are still needing support with basic math skills in a very small group situation). 

         When you walk into her classroom, it’s student work you see, not artwork done by her or her aide. 

         Laurie and I can finish each others’ sentences when we discuss rigor and independent learning.  This shorthand is based on a mutual understanding of what special education is:  a service designed to bridge the gap between ability and capacity, not an educational system to protect kids with special needs.

         When we smother kids with support and don’t teach them how to think for themselves, even the brightest of them will atrophy as learners.

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