<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781</id><updated>2012-02-16T20:30:46.793-08:00</updated><category term='Teaching'/><category term='lost kids'/><category term='Pool'/><category term='Fishing'/><category term='Bowser'/><category term='Summer School'/><category term='Mario'/><category term='Special Education'/><category term='disabilites'/><category term='transportation'/><title type='text'>Blame it on the Day Job!</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>26</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-3459255819169350547</id><published>2011-06-17T13:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-17T13:50:40.520-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Recommitting</title><content type='html'>I think that come August, I may need to revisit this blog, too many funny things happen with my students and I really must share these stories.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-3459255819169350547?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3459255819169350547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=3459255819169350547' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/3459255819169350547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/3459255819169350547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2011/06/recommitting.html' title='Recommitting'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-7828266505223991531</id><published>2009-09-23T07:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T07:51:20.841-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Macho Macho Man</title><content type='html'>The last couple of days my friend SH has been quite silly!  He has been yelling at me because I have not returned the class fish to our class from the summer. On a regular basis he says "BRING GABRIELLA BACK MISS MEGAN" and putting me "under arrest" I have been VERY bad.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then yesterday at the end of the day Shane had left for the day, when all the of a sudden he comes running in arms flailing "WAIT WAIT WAIT! I forgot my jacket!"  The vision of a tall gangly looking goof ball running into the room sent both Stefanie and I into stitches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, this morning SH was playing with his legos when he jumped up and ran across the room to the mirror and flexed his muscles. Mr. skinny arms pushed up the sleeves and flexed both arms. He turned and modeled his muscles to me. I commented on his muscles and he flexed again.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silly boy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-7828266505223991531?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/7828266505223991531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=7828266505223991531' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/7828266505223991531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/7828266505223991531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2009/09/macho-macho-man.html' title='Macho Macho Man'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-2619345405797590366</id><published>2009-07-19T09:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-19T09:38:40.543-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Summer School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Special Education'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='transportation'/><title type='text'>Only 1 Bus!</title><content type='html'>Sometimes the smallest things can upset the students I work with, on this particular day it happened to be that there was only 1 bus, when we generally have 2.  This was very upsetting for my friend S.H.  He was throwing the ultimate of fits.  We had called his mother after several attempts to calm him down, but alas we had no hope. We feared today would be a loss for him.  Mom had said that S.H.'s father would be picking him up.  The site leader and myself then discussed who would stay behind with him and we decided to send the bus on it's way.  The bus driver started up the bus, just then S.H. screamed, jumped up and ran as fast as he could onto the bus.  All was fine for the remainder of the day.  If only we'd known all it would take was starting the bus....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-2619345405797590366?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/2619345405797590366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=2619345405797590366' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/2619345405797590366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/2619345405797590366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2009/07/only-1-bus.html' title='Only 1 Bus!'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-6831803374811904507</id><published>2009-07-19T09:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-19T09:30:38.131-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pool'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Special Education'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='disabilites'/><title type='text'>"OOL"  There is no 'P' in our pool, Let's keep it that way.</title><content type='html'>I've been volunteering with a community called Wellspring this summer teaching them aquaerobics. Wellspring is an organization that hopes to establish a residential facility for adults with disabilities. This facility would also provide a place of employment for the residents that it hosts. Anyway there are about 16 participants and I get to spend an hour of my afternoon working with them. My team teacher Stef is the teacher for this program for the summer and overheard one student saying to another. "Do you ever pee in the pool?" The other student replied "Yeah, I just did." No matter the age, I guess we have to review the rule that we are not supposed to pee in the pool.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-6831803374811904507?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/6831803374811904507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=6831803374811904507' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/6831803374811904507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/6831803374811904507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2009/07/ool-there-is-no-p-in-our-pool-lets-keep.html' title='&quot;OOL&quot;  There is no &apos;P&apos; in our pool, Let&apos;s keep it that way.'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-4801274190373860588</id><published>2009-05-04T07:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T07:53:49.402-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday</title><content type='html'>The other day we celebrated C.M's birthday.  She had been bothering her mother for over a month saying "Birthday, Birthday."  So her mother called us and asked if she could bring in cupcakes even though C.M.'s birthday isn't until July.  We said yes and her mother brought in cupcakes, juice, baloons (upon C.M.'s request) and a card.  We passed the card around to have the class sign it.  When the card got to S.H. he stared at if for awhile.  Stef prompted him to write his name so he slowly wrote his name.  When he was finished Stefanie reached for it and he said "I'm not done yet."  So Stefanie waited while he wrote a little note.  On the card S.H. had written Happy 16th Birthday Sweetheart, We love you so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's so sweet, he loves his  C.M.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-4801274190373860588?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/4801274190373860588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=4801274190373860588' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/4801274190373860588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/4801274190373860588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2009/05/happy-birthday.html' title='Happy Birthday'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-1471220077503508921</id><published>2009-04-10T11:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T11:59:55.765-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I love technology always and forever.</title><content type='html'>This morning I saw something I really wasn't prepared for at 7:20 in the morning or at school.  We have some very cool software for our kids to become more independent and one of them is a program that interprets what you say into the microphone.  It can not only type for you, but you can browse the internet and even navigate tool bars.  What a great option for some of our students, but you must get the device to get used to the users voice.  So that's what were doing.  K.K. and I were sitting on the computer and she said "Hi, my name is K.K."  and the computer typed Hi, my nude gay porn.  I freaked out and quickly deleted the text that had popped onto the screen.  Thankfully the script was too small for K. to read so I was able to delete it before she knew what had been typed.  Gotta love the quirks of technology.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-1471220077503508921?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/1471220077503508921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=1471220077503508921' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/1471220077503508921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/1471220077503508921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-love-technology-always-and-forever.html' title='I love technology always and forever.'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-3124909660081182412</id><published>2009-03-24T07:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T07:27:29.348-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm allergic to babies</title><content type='html'>So today was a VERY exciting day one of our para's Lara told our class that she was having a baby (very exciting news for me)  The kids were very excited but SH just sat in the back of the room and said nothing.  So I asked him if he was excited and he said "Uh, no, I'm very allergic to babies."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO HILARIOUS!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-3124909660081182412?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3124909660081182412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=3124909660081182412' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/3124909660081182412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/3124909660081182412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-allergic-to-babies.html' title='I&apos;m allergic to babies'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-2491517690406348008</id><published>2009-03-19T15:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T15:33:16.366-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Support Your Teachers</title><content type='html'>So I NEVER use this blog as a place for me to complain about things at school, but I'm just so fired up right now and I'm sitting here working detention and I have to get something off my chest.  If/When you become a parent PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE take it easy on your kids teachers.  They really do have your students best intentions in mind, especially the special ed teachers.  I don't think parents realize exactly what we do in a day. I wish they would take into consideration that not only are we teaching their student, but we are also teaching other students, the ENDLESS paperwork that comes our way is another horrific task, if it's spring than there are IEP meetings out the wazoo, transition meetings to host, summer paper work to fill out, evaluations to prepare for, Student behaviors which really do seem to elevate in the spring time,  CSAP's to administer, and of course there are the parent concerns, as well as anything else that may pop up out of no where.  As Special education teachers we are managers, managers of kids, managers of paras and managers of tasks.  We prioritize the tasks that lay ahead, and most of the time parent concerns come third to teaching classes and student behavior, but you never know what might come up and expecting us to get back to you with a detailed e-mail in less than 24 hours really is quite unreasonable especially when 15 of those hours occur when we are not working. If you e-mail us at 4:00 in the afternoon do not expect a lengthy response  in 24 hours.  It's not going to happen.  Our job is not one that allows us to sit in front of our computers for hours on end responding to e-mails and we typically have 7 minutes between passing periods as well as a short amount of time during our planning period to even check our e-mail let alone find answers and responses to e-mails.  &lt;br /&gt;   We do the best we can, and many of our parents could do with a healthy dose of perspective.      &lt;br /&gt;Again I apologize for the rant, just keep in mind when you have your own children that teachers need time to respond.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-2491517690406348008?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/2491517690406348008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=2491517690406348008' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/2491517690406348008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/2491517690406348008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2009/03/support-your-teachers.html' title='Support Your Teachers'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-1654657653835804433</id><published>2009-02-18T08:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T08:06:00.092-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You can't give that to the kids...</title><content type='html'>We had our Valentine's Day party on Thursday this year so that we could have all the kids together, because Valentine's Day was on a Saturday.  We also had Monday and Tuesday off so Today was the first day back.  Our dear para Rosie had forgotten her Valentine's and was handing them out to the kids.  There were a few kids who weren't in yet so she left them on the table.  Stefanie comes in a little while later and shows me the Valentine's.  Each Valentine has 2 pieces of candy taped to them. I think to myself how sweet she is and then Stefanie points out the type of candy that Miss Rosie has brought in.  Miss Rosie has taped Bailey's Irish Creme candies onto all of our classes Valentine's. Boy was she embarassed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-1654657653835804433?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/1654657653835804433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=1654657653835804433' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/1654657653835804433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/1654657653835804433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2009/02/you-cant-give-that-to-kids.html' title='You can&apos;t give that to the kids...'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-3628430307949152554</id><published>2009-02-10T15:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T16:09:55.941-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lost kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Special Education'/><title type='text'>Where's Phillip?</title><content type='html'>Today we had a class outing to the Target and Petsmart near by.  As we were getting onto the bus. I did a head count, and then called Stef to do a head count.  16 kids, perfect.  We get back to school and quickly prepare for 4th period.  My math class comes in gets their work together and is ready to go.  "Where's P.L.?"  I ask  &lt;br /&gt;"Oh he's in the bathroom."  Great, well let's get started.  I start the fluency test and get the class prepared started.  5 minutes passes.  P.L. is stillin the bathroom?  I walk next door, no P.L.  I call Cheryl over.  &lt;br /&gt;"Have you seen P.L.?"  We walk down the hall to towards the bathroom.  We stop a passing teacher and ask him if he would check the bathroom.  No P.L. Now I start to panic.  I head down the hall to Academic Support where Stef is working.  &lt;br /&gt;"Have you seen P.L." I ask &lt;br /&gt;"No, was he on your bus?" Stef asks &lt;br /&gt;"No, I don't think so, was he on yours?" I'm beginning to really freak out now. &lt;br /&gt;"No, have you seen him since we got back?"  &lt;br /&gt;"No, you don't think he's at Target still do you?"  &lt;br /&gt;"I'don't know, should we run up there?"  I walk quickly back to my class. Cheryl suggests that we call Target and Petsmart. Stefanie decides to head up to PetsMart.  No answer at Target.&lt;br /&gt;I run back to my computer to look up Target's number, when Cory calls. "A.S., broke his leg." Cory says before I can say hello.&lt;br /&gt;"WHAT!?!?! Are you kidding me?" I shriek into the phone.  I really can't handle this now.&lt;br /&gt;"Just kidding, no, I have to go.... blah blah blah"  I didn't hear the rest because now that I didn't have to worry about A.S., I started to worry about. P.L. again.&lt;br /&gt;"Hey, Cory have you seen P.L.?" &lt;br /&gt;"Oh yeah, didn't you read the note, him mom took him to the Dentist."&lt;br /&gt;"WHAT!"  Oh, the breath returns to my body. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later I log into Powerschool to take attendance.  Guess I should've done that first. I would have saw that he'd been excused.  OOOPS!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-3628430307949152554?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3628430307949152554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=3628430307949152554' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/3628430307949152554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/3628430307949152554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2009/02/wheres-phillip.html' title='Where&apos;s Phillip?'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-2874946928692366156</id><published>2009-02-02T09:17:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T09:19:35.168-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pencil Free Diet</title><content type='html'>It's been a while since I've posted anything, so I thought that I would post a story from last year.  I used to have a can of pencils that I provided for the students, however I was CONSTANTLY having to replenish them as they were disappearing faster than I could keep up with them.  I jokingly asked my class if they were eating the Pencils and ATO replied "Ms. O.  I'm on a pencil free diet."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-2874946928692366156?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/2874946928692366156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=2874946928692366156' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/2874946928692366156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/2874946928692366156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2009/02/pencil-free-diet.html' title='Pencil Free Diet'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-8324887369922325010</id><published>2009-01-09T13:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T13:54:13.991-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fishing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Teaching'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Special Education'/><title type='text'>Underarrested!</title><content type='html'>SH came back from lunch today to announce that CM should be put under arrest.  Stef asked him why and he said "She took, my trash and threw it away without asking."  Stef asked him if he was going to stay with the teachers or if he was going to go back to lunch.  He turned around and walked out of the classroom.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During Weight Training SH was lying on the ground while CM was playing with her teacher.  SH was becoming agitated with CM when suddenly he jumps up and says "CM you are under arrest for lying, stealing and fishing without a license!"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope you don't get caught for fishing without a license too!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-8324887369922325010?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/8324887369922325010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=8324887369922325010' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/8324887369922325010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/8324887369922325010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2009/01/underarrested.html' title='Underarrested!'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-2204297711720042417</id><published>2009-01-07T13:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T13:14:11.433-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dirty photos</title><content type='html'>My dear SS has since departed our school and while I miss him dearly he has left my team with some excellent memories.  A personal favorite is about a "dirty" photo.  SS was in pottery and for the end of the semester the teacher was having them make collages out of magazine pictures.  At some point during pottery SS found a picture of a woman in her underwear with flames in the background.  The photo is so dark that you can't even really see the woman, but it did elude to the skin that should be seen.  During this student's daily pocket check the "racy" photo was discovered and confiscated.  Although it's not really a bad picture it's not a picture that I want to explain to parents about when they ask why I let him keep it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-2204297711720042417?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/2204297711720042417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=2204297711720042417' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/2204297711720042417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/2204297711720042417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2009/01/dirty-photos.html' title='Dirty photos'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-3260618327848478000</id><published>2009-01-07T13:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T13:08:40.868-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I smell pretty oh so pretty</title><content type='html'>Today CM asked me to go to the bathroom.  She had been gone for awhile when Miss Ann came into my room laughing. I asked her what had happened and she said that she was walking down the hall when she was stopped by our Nurse's assistant.  Of course I get nervous that CM has done something but come to find out CM goes to the bathroom takes the air deodorizer and sprays it on her wrists and neck.  Sure enough CM comes struting down the hallway smelling herself. So Ann had to take her back into the bathroom to explain to her that this spray was used when someone has pooped and wants to make the room smell better. CM's response was "AH, POO POO!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-3260618327848478000?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3260618327848478000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=3260618327848478000' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/3260618327848478000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/3260618327848478000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-smell-pretty-oh-so-pretty.html' title='I smell pretty oh so pretty'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-5498523740897055037</id><published>2008-12-12T06:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T06:53:21.252-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fire Drill</title><content type='html'>7:20 School starts&lt;br /&gt;7:21 Stef comes in and says we're going for a walk and finger spells "fire Drill"&lt;br /&gt;7:30 Kids with coat and ready to go. &lt;br /&gt;7:30 1/2 SH throwing a fit&lt;br /&gt;7:31 Ultimatum, Stay in here until fire drill or come outside now&lt;br /&gt;7:31 1/2 SH walks outside&lt;br /&gt;7:34 Outside with kids, FREEZING!&lt;br /&gt;7:35 Class huddled in a circle singing Christmas Carols&lt;br /&gt;7:36 SH shaking knees with no arms! &lt;br /&gt;7:50 Back in Class&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How often did your high school classes huddle together and sing Christmas Carols? Jealous?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-5498523740897055037?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/5498523740897055037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=5498523740897055037' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/5498523740897055037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/5498523740897055037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2008/12/fire-drill.html' title='Fire Drill'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-975413725600997306</id><published>2008-12-11T13:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T13:33:21.332-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I probably don't like you either.</title><content type='html'>About a week ago our student SH had a difficult day.  Someone had sat at his table and this was out of the ordinary and change is very difficult.  As he was crying in my room my para Lara asked him about Christmas and he replied "Christmas is cancelled."  She asked him why and if he asked Christmas and his reply was "No, I don't like Christmas and I probably don't like you either." &lt;br /&gt;    Later that afternoon SH was lying on the couch in Miss Stef's room and I was asking him a question.  Again SH replied. "I probably don't like you either Mrs. Ostedgaard."  This ridiculous statement became the topic of conversation between myself and the staff. &lt;br /&gt;     I told myself I would write about it, however I completely forgot because things have been a little crazy lately.  Well today  during math SH was working on his math and he said "Mrs.  Ostedgaard, I probably don't you like you either."  I replied. "Well SH I like you."  Of course he responded with "NO NO NO, I probably don't like you either.  Miss Ann, Miss Megan and I are fighting."  We continued bantering back and forth until the end of class.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    I do so enjoy my students!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-975413725600997306?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/975413725600997306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=975413725600997306' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/975413725600997306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/975413725600997306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-probably-dont-like-you-either.html' title='I probably don&apos;t like you either.'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-2896316671525503656</id><published>2008-11-11T12:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T13:23:49.120-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Outside Looking In.</title><content type='html'>I haven't written in a while and so I thought I would share a little bit about some of the events that occur that feel "normal" to me but are very odd to the people around us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, we had a student who was upset and decided to run out of the classroom and cry. Another teacher who does not teach special education came into my room to ask me some questions, as he walked in he said "Did you know that there is a boy crying outside in the hallway." and I said "Oh he's fine." He was surprised by my reaction, but didn't seem too concerned. I of course immediately knew who the student was and that he was going to fine there, he just needed to time to cool off, however to the average high school teacher, this was very unusual behavior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second event occurred this afternoon. One of our students is having a very difficult time keeping her hands to herself and we have made 4 trips to the deans office for hitting this year. Finally we decided that maybe she would need to talk to a police officer to scare her into behaving. The police officer comes in and as soon as he sees her he softens up and smiles at her. I cannot fault him entirely she is cute and very sweet, but when you know the student has been hitting and you have been called in for back up you've gotta help a sista out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last story also happened this afternoon. I was working diligently in my room and Miss Stef is next door working with some kids. I hear some screaming and foot stomping and I immediately know that it is our of our students and I know exactly which one. I smile and refocus on my work knowing all too well that Miss Stef has taken care of whatever it is. I look out my the window in my door just in time to see S.H. flashing past my door. I watch for another second and wait for Stef or someone else to come out looking for him and after a moment no one comes out. So I walk out of my room and around the corner and see S.H. smiling to himself sitting on a bench. I ask him what happens and he says something that I don't catch and I ask him to come with me. He take my hand and follows me back in to Miss Stef's class. He mentions something about a box hitting his nose and I have no idea what he is talking about. Stefanie tells me that they were throwing band aids across the room as a game and one accidentally hit him in the nose at this time S.H. pretends to faint on the floor. I laugh and walk back to my room to finish my work. All in a day's work I guess.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-2896316671525503656?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/2896316671525503656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=2896316671525503656' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/2896316671525503656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/2896316671525503656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2008/11/outside-looking-in.html' title='Outside Looking In.'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-7350747527798496554</id><published>2008-10-24T08:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-24T08:38:32.932-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't make him mad</title><content type='html'>We've been having some hitting in our class lately and consequences don't really seem to be getting through in the traditional detention etc.  So when CM hit BN I was very angry and I told her that she would have to tell our old para Mr. Will what she had done and that he would be very upset with her.  At this time SH was in the room and when he heard this he started crying.  At first I didn't know what to do, I couldn't even understand why he was crying...yet there he sat sobbing.  SH was finally able to fight through his tears to say "CM don't make Mr. Will mad, I don't want him to be mad at you."  I giggled to myself as I stole a glance at our para Lara who also was stiffling a giggle.  I walked over to SH and explained to him that sometimes people make bad choices and that Mr. Will would forgive CM.  He sniffled as I explained this to him and asked for a hug.  As I hugged him he mumbled... "Don't make Mr. Will mad."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just love the compassion I see in my room.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-7350747527798496554?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/7350747527798496554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=7350747527798496554' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/7350747527798496554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/7350747527798496554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2008/10/dont-make-him-mad.html' title='Don&apos;t make him mad'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-8379492946087862641</id><published>2008-10-20T08:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T08:24:52.199-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Breakthrough</title><content type='html'>I have to say that as I write this post tears are brought to my eyes thinking of this story.  The sweet and innocent display of affection was so surprising and so beautiful that it makes my heart swell and a smile comes to my face. &lt;br /&gt;    This morning as I was talking to one of my paraprofessionals about nothing important DE, who has autism and therefore struggles to make strong connections to people in his life, suddenly came up and gave me a big hug.  Now, I received hugs through out the day from many of my friends here in the ILC, in fact sometimes we have to set up boundries because we all know that adults don't hug this much and we have to explain that we need to keep boundries.  But when something this suprising and this huge happens there is no rule for how to respond.  There is nothing to do but stand there in awe and smile to yourself, knowing that have made a connection to a student that is incomparable to any other.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-8379492946087862641?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/8379492946087862641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=8379492946087862641' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/8379492946087862641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/8379492946087862641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2008/10/breakthrough.html' title='Breakthrough'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-6005222080920161496</id><published>2008-10-19T17:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-19T17:43:27.873-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations</title><content type='html'>As I mentioned in a previous post I haven't written much lately because I've been prepping for observations.  It's always interesting to see what people are going to see when they get observed.  My first lesson was a math lesson, which went surprisingly well, nobody cried, and everyone completed their assignment with success.  The second lesson didn't go quite as well. I had students coming in and out of the classroom as is typical.  KK had to go the bathroom, MY had to go to the nurse, SH was banging his head against his knee and kicking and screaming. CM had no idea what were doing.  This of course is very usual for me to deal with, however these scenarios aren't nearly as big of a production in a your typical general education classroom. It's also an educational experience for our administrators who come into our class because usually they don't have any experience in Special Education and they get to see a very different perspective of high school, from the eyes of our students.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-6005222080920161496?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/6005222080920161496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=6005222080920161496' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/6005222080920161496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/6005222080920161496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2008/10/observations.html' title='Observations'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-9069372770684334331</id><published>2008-10-19T17:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-19T17:26:09.299-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Booger Face</title><content type='html'>We had quite the trauma during math class last Friday.  B.S. had a chair with wheels, which of course made him the envy of all his peers.  He was taking the chair from station to station, but he forgot it at the second station  and D.M. started racing for it at the same time that B.S. grabbed it from him.  I tried to gently suggest that B.S. have it for today but that D.M. could have it for the next class the following week.  So D.M. grabbed one of the other chairs and rammed into the chair with wheels.  Then he yelled "BOOGER FACE"  at B.S. and ran out of the room.  B.S. was clearly upset.  In the end the two were able to apologize.  Our perceptions of name calling are quite different in my class.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-9069372770684334331?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/9069372770684334331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=9069372770684334331' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/9069372770684334331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/9069372770684334331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2008/10/booger-face.html' title='Booger Face'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-6695054671419313147</id><published>2008-10-19T17:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-19T17:15:19.207-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry Mr. Egg</title><content type='html'>I know it's been a while since I posted anything the last week has been kinda crazy between observations and just plain keeping up with everything in school I haven't had time to write about my class.  &lt;br /&gt;     This story was not actually my story to tell but I'm going to share it with you because I thought it was so very silly.  My team mate Stefanie was being observed by our principal and let me say that most observations are pretty silly to watch,  nothing EVER goes as planned, but he was there to observe Social Studies and during this particular lesson the students were learning how to make cookies.  One of the students suddenly became agitated and started to cry.  Stefanie went over to see what was wrong and it turned out that he was upset because they were going to have to crack the egg.  My favorite part of this story is Stefanie's response.  Stefanie calmed the student down and told him that chickens really want us to eat their eggs.  In the end he did crack the egg, but not with out a few more tears.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-6695054671419313147?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/6695054671419313147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=6695054671419313147' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/6695054671419313147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/6695054671419313147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2008/10/sorry-mr-egg.html' title='Sorry Mr. Egg'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-3197687347601463307</id><published>2008-10-08T20:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T21:01:44.535-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Count Counts</title><content type='html'>During math today we have the Autism choir break out into a chant.  In case you aren't familiar the Autism choir is a benevolent phrase used for students who are echolalic, meaning students with Autism sometimes have the ability to repeat things that have heard in the past.  Some students are able to parrot a line, or voice to a tee.  When this occurs with multiple students with Autism it has the potential to get other students with Autism to parrot that student, thus coining the name Autism choir.  &lt;br /&gt;   Anyway now that you've had your Special Education lesson of the day I can continue with the story.  My 4A math class is full of diligent workers.  Each student is working hard at their own station and there is a buzz in the classroom as the students complete their work.  It's not loud, just a the nice buzz of students working hard. I am circulating the class looking for anyone who may require assistance when I pass by my friend S.H. and he counting his quarters in an exact parrot of the count from Sesame Street.  "One, Two, Three. AH AH AH AH!"  Then "One, Two, Three, Four, Five. AH AH AH AH!"  I giggle softly to myself and move on to the next student. When from across the room I hear P.L.  say "One, Two, Three. AH AH AH AH!" Then "One, Two, Three, Four, Five. AH AH AH AH!"  The room slowly erupts into silent giggles as my 3 paraprofessionals and 1 student assistant hear the choir break out into a round of counting like the Count.  Needless to say, very little was accomplished after this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-3197687347601463307?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3197687347601463307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=3197687347601463307' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/3197687347601463307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/3197687347601463307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2008/10/count-counts.html' title='The Count Counts'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-354344437899787208</id><published>2008-10-07T19:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-07T19:22:44.868-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Teaching'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Special Education'/><title type='text'>Going to the Chapel Baby</title><content type='html'>C.M. is going to the chapel and she’s gonna get married.  C.M. announced today that she was marrying Mr. Will.  We asked her if he knew yet and she said yes.  Apparently C.M. ran into our old paraprofessional Will in the hallway.  As is tradition for C.M. she became utterly ecstatic and apparently decided she was going to propose to Will.  However, Will is married and probably not marrying C.M.  Poor Dear. (Oh wait, she says she’s not a Deer.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-354344437899787208?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/354344437899787208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=354344437899787208' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/354344437899787208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/354344437899787208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2008/10/going-to-chapel-baby.html' title='Going to the Chapel Baby'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-4090454067543593161</id><published>2008-10-07T19:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T09:37:28.299-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Teaching'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Special Education'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mario'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bowser'/><title type='text'>Mario and Bowser</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SO4zOgudT0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/9i5B6rPQxuo/s1600-h/1009080906.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SO4zOgudT0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/9i5B6rPQxuo/s320/1009080906.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255194139583926082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think one of the greatest things about my class is the ability to just remain an observer at different times of the day.  Two of my favorite times to observe my students are right before school and at the end of the day.  These are two times when all of the students are in Stef and I’s classroom.  The chaos that occurs with 19 special education students is quite hilarious.  Yes, of course, it is managed chaos with 6 adults helping these students make sure they have everything they need to go home, however the student interaction is priceless.  &lt;br /&gt; This morning I had a wonderful opportunity to sit and observe as two of my students talked about Mario and Bowser.  I sat on the couch waiting for a student to return and watched as B.S. explained to me in full detail how he Mario saves the princess from the bad guy.  Of course, neither he nor I could recall the name of the bad guy in Super Mario Brothers, but there is always someone there to assist you.  My friend S.H. perks up and says “Bowser” in his high pitched voice.  B.S. replies “OH YEAH!!!” and pulls out his magic sword (2 straws taped together.)  S.H. hops up from the couch and begins growling and hissing like he’s Bowser.  Mario (B.S.) waves his magic sword at Bowser (S.H.) and jumps up like he’s in the game.  The two continue their play fight for about five minutes until Mario swings his sword one final time and exclaims “HA! I’VE GOT YOU NOW! YOU’RE DEAD BOWSER!”  and Bowser falls to the floor in the most theatrical death scene I have ever witnessed.  I think he would put some actors and actresses to shame.  Bowser slumps the floor and right before he breathes his final breath he says “I’ll get you someday Mario.”  And with that the scene ends.  Something’s are too good to miss.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-4090454067543593161?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/4090454067543593161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=4090454067543593161' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/4090454067543593161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/4090454067543593161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2008/10/mario-and-bowser.html' title='Mario and Bowser'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SO4zOgudT0I/AAAAAAAAAAM/9i5B6rPQxuo/s72-c/1009080906.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2626523253509695781.post-19676568457935099</id><published>2008-10-07T19:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-07T19:21:12.083-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Teaching'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Special Education'/><title type='text'>Spaghetti with Meatballs</title><content type='html'>&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; 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&lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0in; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:8.5in 11.0in; 	margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; 	mso-header-margin:.5in; 	mso-footer-margin:.5in; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0in; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-ansi-language:#0400; 	mso-fareast-language:#0400; 	mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;"&gt;The following blog was actually written for 10/3/08&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a very special day as I was lucky enough to eat lunch with 5 of my students.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This happens every other day but it usually is one of my favorite times of day because I get to socialize with my students and hear what they talk about with each other.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;The students purchase their lunch and then we all eat together, today I had Spaghetti.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The students wanted to know what kind of spaghetti and I said my dad made it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;D.C. wanted to know if it had meatballs in it and I said “No, my dad doesn’t like to make meatballs.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This started D.C. on a five minute monologue about how she likes meatballs and thinks that my father should make meatballs when he makes spaghetti.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;OF course then B.N. jumps in and says she doesn’t like meatballs or spaghetti and D.C. says that doesn’t make sense.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The two chatter back and forth about spaghetti for quite some time until D.C. Suddenly turns to me and says “I think you should get your father’s recipe and bring in some spaghetti for all of us.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It’s funny what subjects bring about such heated discussions. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2626523253509695781-19676568457935099?l=spedsaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/feeds/19676568457935099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2626523253509695781&amp;postID=19676568457935099' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/19676568457935099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2626523253509695781/posts/default/19676568457935099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spedsaga.blogspot.com/2008/10/spaghetti-with-meatballs.html' title='Spaghetti with Meatballs'/><author><name>Megan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nf45vVb9xfA/SnB4dneL5HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/vdASapnnIUQ/S220/0626091700a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
