March Madness: It's Not Just For Basketball Anymore

As the middle of March hits, if you're like me, you're kind of drowning. March and April are crazy busy months in education, especially special education. Many districts, like mine, conduct Annual Reviews of every special education student's Individualized Education Plan (IEP) in March, so there's constant questioning, checking, fire-putting-out, and meeting related to that. Also, early spring is when the final push to get children evaluated before the end of the year begins. This "In Like a Lion, Out Like a Lamb" and "April Showers Bring May Flowers" junk needs to go out the window. "In Like a Lion, Out Like a Strung Out Wildebeast" and "April Evals Bring Crazy, Exhausted School Psychs" perhaps!

I think the most important thing to remember when facing the uphill battle of spring evaluation season is this: you are one person. It is possible that you may not be able to meet timelines and deadlines for every evaluation. If this were to happen, it only means that you are not a super human (although you will always be a Super Psychologist), and it tells your district that they are understaffed for the demand. Seriously communicate the difficulties you're facing with your workload to your supervisors, other psychologists, and the superintendent, and stress that you may not be meeting compliance despite working your best to do so (they wanted to be cited less than you do!).

Take it one evaluation, one report, and one meeting at a time. Manage your time, get organized, and make things as streamlined as possible. Collaborate with other psychologists and professionals in your building or district. Be honest with people who try to draw you into other duties and responsibilities during the school day (lunch duty? I think not). Try your best to "leave work at work" and don't stay up til all hours writing reports and IEPs--it's not healthy and you won't be at your best pumping things out in mass quantities. Communicate with teachers and administrators who are making the referrals to see if something else may be more appropriate than a special education referral (i.e. RTI, counseling, mentoring, wraparound services, etc). And remember, you are one person.

You will likely be feeling all kinds of crazy stress, pressure, and general insanity. That's okay, and it comes with the territory any month of the year. Take care of yourself, first and foremost. You will not be an effective school psychologist to your students if you're totally burnt out. Check out some of my posts on stress management for suggestions on how to keep the crazy down.

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Awkward Conversations at School, Part 1

(because you know there will be more)

I love when I have experiences that are totally off the wall at work and give me gleeful bouts of laughter when I reflect on them. Yesterday, I got called down to have a conference with a student and the substitute principal, Mr. G. The student, who has never been a behavior problem and who I've never even seen before, was poking kids with a paper clip and pulled a chair out from under another student. Dangerous behaviors, and uncharacteristic, so we tried to figure out what was up. The student was tight-lipped, noncompliant, and full of crocodile tears, so it didn't go anywhere. The fun part came after the conference, when Mr. G said that he had a story to tell me. It went a little something like this (somewhat abbreviated for clarity and amusement):

Mr. G: "When I was the principal at XX Elementary, one of my kindergarten teachers brought a student into my office because the girl had punched the teacher in the stomach. I kept the girl in my office with me, talked to her, and sent her back to class after a half an hour. Not fifteen minutes later, the teacher was back because the girl had punched her again. Well, I knew this couldn't continue, so I had to suspend her. A kindergartener! When we were at the hearing for her suspension, I noticed she was acting strangely. Her eyes were looking up at the ceiling as she slouched and slid up and down in her chair. Now, I was a music teacher before I was a principal, and this girl was speaking in a voice that no child of her age and gender could naturally make. She kept groaning, 'I hate you, Miss Ray... I hate you, Miss Ray.' .... Now, I have to ask you... as a psychologist, do you believe in possession?"

Me: 0_o "Um."

Mr. G: "No, really. Do you believe in possession, do you have that faith? Because there's something wrong with that girl." [the one we had just conferenced with, who had thankfully left the room]

Ah... awkward, inappropriate conversations in the workplace. Needless to say, I booked it out of there before he started explaining any other uncomfortable and outlandish viewpoints that his music teacher expertise may have given him about behavior and mental health.

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A Day Without Accomplishing a Thing in Group is a Day Wasted

Today in group, the lesson was on problem-solving! Last time, we reviewed all the steps we've learned to identify how we're feeling, know how our body feels, and ways to calm down--all of which the kiddos have to do first before they can problem solve. Today's lesson was mostly based off of Skill #30 in Skillstreaming in Early Childhood. The boys would be thinking of different choices they could make in a certain situation, picking a "good" choice, then talking about how they would carry that out. Sounds great, right?

I felt like this, only with clothes and
without the sweet hat.

Wrong. Group was pretty much a waste.

Today was the class's first day with a new student who is going to be very challenging. He is brand new to our building and his grandma and mom came in before he arrived to let us know what a terror he is. Awesome, you know things are going to be stellar when you get the "he's terrible" talk two weeks before he arrives. Well, little L arrived in a wind storm of crazy, and swept all the other boys into his tornado of nuts.

Pretty much all we were able to accomplish today was talking out different choices we could make in the situations in the Skillstreaming book. L was so off-task and distracting (crawling on the floor, playing in the sink, pulling math manipulatives off the shelves, playing with a yard stick), the other munchkins couldn't focus for very long. We'll have to chock this one up to experience and work harder next time. To stay in line with School Psychology Awareness Week, my strength for today was knowing when to walk away.

And I did... really quickly.



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Progressive Muscle Relaxation? Relax THIS, Lady!

My fourth first grade emotions/anger management group session was marred by the insanity that is November 1st. On this fateful day, the kiddos came to school all tweaked out on candy from Halloween the night before, ready to cause armageddon and other gleeful shenanigans. Enter 50 Shades of Cray.

Group was scheduled for 2:30pm, a nice way to end up the school day before dismissal starts at 3:10. Around 1:00pm, Miss R came down in a tizzy because one of the boys was throwing an Uber Tantrum and she needed help. Mr. S, my mental health counselor colleague, and I strapped on our sneakers and took off (and by sneakers, I mean high heels. Please, you know I didn't have no sneakers on :) ). There we found N, red-faced, scream-crying, face down on the floor, spitting, swimming like Ryan Lochte, only the hands and feet were for punching/kicking/scratching, not winning gold medals. He was not responding to Miss R, the classroom aide, or either of us, and the other students had been removed by the speech therapist, because N had partially destroyed the room.

Mr. S and I held N's hands and feet gently to keep him from hurting himself or one of us, and tried to calm him down, but N was having none of it. Mr. S was getting scratched on his wrists, I was getting kicked (by feet with no shoes or socks... I smelled like sweaty little boy feet for the rest of the day), and it was unproductive. It was one of those situations where you felt totally helpless, because nothing was working to help the kiddo. Mr. S recommended I call the district's crisis team, because this was more than just a tantrum. In the end, the crisis team recommended I call our school resource officer, who came quickly to assist Mr. S, and N's mom eventually came to take him home. We were pooped.

By the time 2:30 rolled around for group, I was worried that N's behavior had set the other 3 boys off and it wasn't going to be a productive session. I was told that it was fine to come up, so I settled myself on the rug with D, G, and J and we got down to business on the topic of "relaxation" (irony). Immediately, I knew that it was going to be a wash--they were much squirmier than normal, D and J kept posturing like they were going to punch each other, and where they normally respond to positive redirection and praising, it wasn't working. What an awesome day to try and do relaxation techniques!

J had to be removed to take a "cool down" walk, so with D and G we were able to discuss why it's important to calm down when you're upset, and ways to do so. With some teeth-pulling, we were able to get a good list (watch TV, sit by yourself, put your head down, go for a walk, deep breathing, counting backwards, etc). We also practiced some of the techniques where appropriate, like the deep breathing technique I call "Soup Breathing." Students visualize a bowl of their favorite soup in front of them, which is too hot to eat. They're excited to eat it, so they take a big sniff of how good it smells ("in through the nose"), then blow on it to cool it down ("out through the mouth").

I settled the boys into their tables and crossed my mental fingers that the progressive muscle relaxation activity I planned would be somewhat productive. It took a while to settle the boys down, but we were able to get through a few of the scripts with little trouble. J joined us halfway through and was able to participate appropriately. I used the script found here, with some minor modifications to the introduction and conclusion to shorten them. I also didn't do all the scripts, only "hands and arms," "arms and shoulders," "jaw," and "legs and feet." I liked the script because of the visualization, and while the kids got a little silly, they did exactly as instructed.

Once the muscle relaxation was over and I tried to process and get them talking about the activity, the squirminess was back. D and J were right back at each other, instigating a fight and getting in each other's faces. D went to hide under a table and J yelled and tried to push a chair at him. I went to try and calm J down, but for some reason, he had forgotten all the cool techniques he had just learned! With time and help from Miss R, the boys got settled back into their dismissal routine and I was able to skeddadle. Phew.

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A Committee on Special Education Year In Review... aka, I Am A Machine

Add glasses and this is surprisingly accurate.

As I bask in the glory of summer, I remember that this year was not all Zumba classes, bike rides, wedding planning, and watching TLC. As you may remember, this year was totally nutty-- my Committee on Special Education (CSE) chairperson was out for 9 months receiving chemo and I spent the year working with a district representative (which was fantastic); I single-handedly underwent a state ed. review; attempted to run Positive Behavior Intervention Supports like Check-in, Check-out; and of course, dealt with every day chaos and crisis. I'd be a big fat liar if I said I'm not enjoying the time off, that's fo sho.

Before school ended, I sat down and totaled up all of the stats for the Committee on Special Education meetings I've done during '11-'12. The results were all together staggering, nauseating, tiring, and awe-inspiring. Here are some fun facts...

• The meetings held for male vs. female students was 73 vs. 42. Our special education population at our building (and in the district) is disproportionately male and African American.
• We held 30 initial CSE meetings. Many of these meetings were kiddos that were being referred for services due to severe behavioral problems, and the students were recommended for more restrictive settings where their needs could be met, such as a Special Class. Five of these initial referrals did not qualify for services. 
• In a similar vein, we held 28 reevaluation meetings where a more restrictive setting was recommended. Many of these were for a Special Class, but others were a recommendation where a student moved from receiving only related services, like speech, to Integrated Co-Teaching services.
• We held 21 reevaluation meetings where changes were made to programming (adding or removing a related service, etc) or as part of a three-year reevaluation, in accordance with legal mandates.
• We declassified 8 students from special education services this year. One of them was due to chronic lack of attendance in school, thus not accessing special education services nor receiving appropriate instruction (he came to school four days all year).
• Although I had three full days of CSE meetings in March (on top of helping teachers with the Annual Review process for their caseloads), the biggest volume of CSE meetings came late fall, during the state ed. review. In November and December, I had a total of four meetings days, but they covered 30 kiddos. I'm getting hives just remembering... ugh.
• My building has a small population of preschoolers receiving special education services via the Committee on Preschool Education (CPSE). When they turn school age in kindergarten, we have to reevaluate their programs to see if they will transition into CSE services. We completed 4 CPSE to CSE reevaluations this year, two at the beginning of the year for '11-'12, and two at the end for '12-'13 (we got ahead of the game). 
• We amended 24 students' IEPs, making minor changes that don't overly affect their service levels. These included changing goals, fixing/cleaning up parts of the Present Levels of Educational Performance (PLEP), altering time durations for programming, and adjusting program modifications and testing accommodations. 

So, for those playing at home, that brings my Committee on Special Education meetings for the 2011-2012 school year to a whopping 115.

I am psychologist. Hear me roar.

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No, You Can't Have a Piece of Candy, GO BACK TO CLASS!

One thing that every person who works in a high demand field needs to know is their own personal limits. Although we all aspire to be Super Psychologists, test every kid, solve every problem, respond to every crisis, and consult with every teacher, I have news for you: we can't. We are limited in our time, resources, and support, and we need to prioritize and learning what to say "no" to. I had, and continue to have, difficulty not jumping up to respond to every situation or crisis (though with the testing and evaluations piling up, it's becoming easier). The hardest part is we all have a big drive to help and make things better, but getting everything done isn't possible. Knowing your limits with what you can feasibly accomplish will make professional life so much easier.

That's one kind of "knowing your limits," and there's another kind that's equally important: knowing what populations you have difficulty working with. We are not effective when our buttons are pushed or we are dealing with personal reactions to children in our buildings. Some people have trouble working with abuse cases, others have reactions to students who curse at them, others have difficulty working with aggressive children, etc. Me? My limit is... well, we'll call them "self-directed" girls, Grades 2-4 (and by self-directed, it's my nice way of saying bratty and noncompliant).

There are four little girls in my school that I have a really hard time interacting with when they are having behavioral difficulties because of their attitude and defiance. There's just something about it that really gets under my skin and turns me into yelling, crazy eyes, Mean Psychologist. For those that know me in person, or from what you've gleaned from my blogging, that is not me at all. I strive to be positive, problem-solving, and child-centered at all times, but these ladies turn me into a hot hot mess.

One of them was in my office yesterday and was completely disregarding all gentle directions and reminders I was giving her. I was trying to work with another student, and she was constantly disrupting me, getting out of her seat, going on my desk, and asking to draw a picture or for a piece of candy. Eventually, I snapped and started yelling at her, much to the surprise of the other young gentleman (who later said, "Miss __, you got really mad..." and I gave him a little pat to comfort him). Another colleague returned to the office, and I gave her my best set of pleading eyes, and she helped me out with the girl.

See? Totally unproductive. Not only did my tirade interfere with my ability to effectively deal with why she was sent out of the room, but it also impacted the little guy I was working with.

God help Fiance and I if we someday have a daughter...

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And in This Corner...

Since it was requested by a follower of my Facebook page, I shall recount the tale of the time I broke up my first fist fight. You'd think this would've happened long ago knowing the potential my building has for insanity, but no, it was today. At 3:30, on a Friday. (Side note: doesn't everything insane seem to happen on a Friday after 3:00?)

K came down to my office at the end of the day because she had a bad interaction with a peer during specials. Kudos to her for removing herself from the situation, first off. She said she needed to cool down, so we went on a walk to collect my kiddos' Check-in, Check-out scores for the day. She said that the peer was bothering her and "running his mouth," but she didn't want to fight him and get suspended anymore. Second Kudos... good decision, girlfriend. Insert me reciting my "keep your hands to yourself" mantra and giving her a pep talk. K has shown good decision-making skills in the past, but has a hot mess temper. Save this for future reference.

We made a few stops, got a few high fives from some younger kiddos, and made our way to her classroom. K participates in the backpack program through the local Food Bank, so she needed to grab her things for dismissal and go pick up her backpack, since it's Friday. Upon entering the room, the proverbial switch flipped and all hell broke loose. Someone had thrown everything out of K's desk and left it scattered all over the floor. She was convinced that the peer she had issues with earlier had done it. (Side note: if you were the class's substitute teacher today, and knew that K was having an "off" day, you wouldn't have tried to save yourself and the kids from the coming onslaught by cleaning the mess up? Apparently not.)

Insert rather colorful, imaginative, and overall impressive cursing from K's glossy lips. I swear, this girl was coming up with good ones. My favorite was the comments about the peer's sexuality and the heavily repeated "n***** p***y b****." Third Kudos for creativity, which is inappropriate on my part. The substitute started instigating her behavior from her position at the front of the room (which she never moved from during the entire ordeal), which was totally helpful. As K got in the other boy's face and I tried to intervene, another kid actually got up out of his seat at the front of the room, grinning, and found a better vantage point to watch what might ensue. Fourth kudos to him for being ballsy, though I looked at him and monotoned, "Not a good idea."

I physically herded K to the doorway of the classroom, trying to get her to get her things from her locker, get her to her backpack, and get out of there. For a glimmer of a moment, I thought we had diverted the crisis. It was short-lived. One bazinga of a comment came from the other boy from inside the room, and K kicked off her shoes. (Side note: loss of shoes is the best indicator that you know it's about to go down... and the tiny voice in my head said, "Oh s***, it's on.")

I grabbed K around the chest to hold her back, but damn, that chick was strong and kept after the boy (who was like, 6 ft. tall by the way). Halfway through the struggle, as I was getting punched/clawed in the holding arm and screamed obscenities in both ears, I realized a few things:

1. Kids come out of the freakin' woodwork when there's a fight. I swear I looked over and saw kindergarteners and first graders watching, who are on the other side of the school and down a floor.
2. Today was a bad day to wear boots that need the rubber grippy nub on the heel replaced. I almost bit it and had visions of being trampled by pre-teens.
3. It's pretty ironic that I was writing a Functional Behavior Assessment (FBA) for K this morning, thinking how she probably wouldn't need a Behavior Intervention Plan (BIP) because her behavior is managed well by her teacher and the structure of the classroom.

Two teachers from next door came over to help, one grabbed K and pulled her out of the mess and down the hall, and the other shooed the onlookers back to their classrooms to pack up (Side note: they continued to creep in the hallway). K needed to be held, struggling, for about five minutes until she could calm down and stop calling the boy a "f****** p***y b****" and saying she was going to break his face. The principal came up, spoke to both kids, and I dragged K to her bus.

Needless to say, I didn't finished my Check-in, Check-out for the afternoon. Happy Friday!

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Trouble with a Capital "T" and that Stands for Removing Psychs from the CSE

If you're from New York and are a member of the New York Association of School Psychologists (NYASP), your email has been all abuzz lately regarding mandate relief. Earlier this year, the NYS Educational Dept (NYSED) was asked to make "mandate relief and flexibility" recommendations to the Governor's Office to see where they could find money in the budget. Preliminary recommendations included a proposal to remove the mandate for school psychologists to be part of the Committee on Special Education (CSE) and other recommendations related to psychological assessments.

NYASP has been working throughout the year with legislators in NYS to not allow such proposals to be accepted by the Board of Regents. Local and statewide legislators advocated heavily for NYASP and school psychologists across the state, citing the vast mental health knowledge and expertise of school psychologists in making determinations regarding the welfare of students. Over the summer, there was a public comment period, where psychologists, parents, legislators, school staff, and other supporters could comment on the proposals. The support for school psychologists was huge, coming from organizations such as NYSUT, the UFT, NYS PTA, and the NYS Psychological Association and everywhere in between.

At the Board of Regents meeting this month, they voted to remove the school psychologist as a mandated member of the CSE with the exception of initial eligibility determination meetings. They also voted to remove the additional parent member and physician/school nurse. Finally, they voted to repeal the psychologist's ability to determine the need for additional data during reevaluations. This is a huge, degrading blow to the profession. School psychologists, parents, teachers, administrators, and related services personnel are outraged. Thankfully, no changes will be made immediately. Any change like this requires a change in the law, which could take a long time due to the need for action of the NYS Legislature. NYASP is planning an all-out  assault (of the email, rally, phone call, and visits with legislators variety) to try and deter these decisions from become law.

I'd love to hear what my gentle readers think about the decision to remove school psychologists from the CSE and limit their say in evaluations. Like most others, I am outraged, nervous, and offended by the decision made by a few people not in the profession over budgetary concerns, which will affect thousands of psychologists and tens of thousands of children. Is this an issue that has come up in other states? Are psychologists mandated members of the CSE where you work? Are there limitations on your job responsibilities and how you conduct your evaluations?

School psychologists who would like to contact our legislators regarding mandate relief are encouraged to check out The New York State Assembly website and The New York State Senate website. Heck, even if you're not a New Yorker, we could use your support!

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Reminiscent of a Headless Chicken

So the start of the school year has been uber crazy for me. With my CSE chairperson being out on medical, not having a clerk since May, and my social worker only at our building 3 days out of 6, I've been wearing a lot of hats. I've been on the phone constantly with parents, placement, etc, running around helping teachers, making copies, emailing the upper up's about building issues, scheduling CSE meetings and testing munchkins, and meeting on/discussing kiddos. Normally, I take stress and a fast paced work environment super well. I love to be busy because I feel productive and like I'm making a difference. Today though, I had an experience that pretty much summed up my overwhelmed feelings lately.

There's a little boy who has never attended school before and was placed in first grade this year right off the bat. He is totally drowning--no understanding of structure, won't write his name or any words, won't follow routine, etc. Poor little munchkin. Anyway, he got moved down into kindergarten part way through today, and not long after, he got dropped off by his teacher in my office... screaming. At the top of his lungs.

He was utterly inconsolable and would scream in your face if you tried to calm him down. Didn't want a hug (which always works, uh hello), didn't want a tissue, didn't want to color or draw, didn't want anything except to scream. And scream. And cry. And then scream some more.

He screamed for virtually 30 minutes straight. Yeeeeppp...

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My Tummy Feels Funny (in a good way)

Yesterday I responded to a crisis with S, my very open feeling friend. In between bouts of crocodile tears and screaming, S looked at me and growled, "LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Is it wrong that my insides melted a little inside and I got the funny tummy feeling? I love that kid, even when he's hanging off the door handle trying to kick his feet through the glass alongside the classroom door.

The Cross-Country Team

One of the biggest frustrations/obstacles/WTHeck issues in my building are what my colleagues and I like to call "runners." Runners are kids who either refuse to enter the classroom or leave the classroom during instruction and roam/run the school building. Why do kids "run"?

• They came to school "off" from something that happened at home or on the bus.
• They are upset over something that happened in the classroom.
• They don't want to complete assignnments.

The concept of "running" completely blows my mind. Maybe it's the expectations I have from school environment I went through as a student. No other building I've worked in has had this issue. I've worked in suburban, rural, and urban schools before being hired here and I can count on one hand the total amount of times a student left a classroom. It was unheard of! Now, I can count on TWO hands the number of times students leave the classroom A DAY.

The biggest issues that runners pose is the fact that they are extremely disruptive and they are missing instruction. Not only do many of our runners actually run the halls, they also bang on lockers & classroom windows, throw materials into classrooms, yell, and slam doors. No, I am not joking. Yes, I work in a public elementary school building, not a day treatment facility. These kids are also out of the classroom during key instructional time. They either wander the halls, sit in or just outside the main office, or spend time "cooling down" in my office. In a building that is already "at-risk" in terms of state Math and English Language Arts (ELA) test scores, these kids need to be learning.

I'm not entirely sure why it has become acceptable for students to run. Is it something to do with the teachers? Is it the community and home life? Is it a lack of coping skills? All I know is that it can't continue if we want our building to function efficiently.

Any suggestions on how to not only help the kids, but to help the teachers and staff, are uber welcome.

Squirmy McAntsypants

After a few serious and informative blog posts, I figured it's time to get back to business. It's time to tell you about Squirmy McAntsypants.

Squirmy, a kindergarten student, came across my desk because his agency case worker referred him for a re-evaluation to see if he needs a more restrictive environment for behavioral issues (i.e. smaller classroom or agency). He's currently only receiving speech services. I observed Squirmy in the classroom yesterday and he was decidedly not squirmy. He was mostly composed, on-task, and got his work done. Hm. Curious.

I took Squirmy for IQ testing this morning, and his true colors began to shine through. He was quite excited, and took off running down the hall towards my office. After choosing a special Santa pencil to do his test, and sharpening it for approximately 2.25 minutes until it was half gone, Squirmy bolted down the hallway towards the room I was going to be testing in. He was instantly overwhelmed and intrigued by his surroundings. There were bags of donated clothes, uniform shirts, hats & gloves, computers, coffee making supplies, office supplies, tables, chairs, white board markers, wall hangings, and all kinds of goodies. Squirmy cataloged this in his mind for later.

Whoever decided to make the first subtest on a preschool IQ test have blocks as manipulatives is possibly insane. Squirmy immediately began rolling the blocks as dice around the table (and floor), stacking them, and generally doing everything with them except replicating the patterns I modeled for him. He also decided it was time to check out his surroundings, and went for the computers. He was so insistent on trying to play on them  that he checked each one by pounding the mouse and keyboard. After redirecting Squirmy and getting a few more answers out of him, he was off again to pull clothes off the shelves, investigate a carousel of funky scissors, and see if said scissors could cut through shirt fabric (the shirts went unharmed). He also asked if he could wear my glasses and tried to remove them from my face. Remembering that he had broken his own glasses in half yesterday after my observation, I kindly declined. Squirmy decided he wanted to try and pull the American flag from the wall instead, anyway.

Squirmy calmed somewhat after the promise of stickers for good behavior upon completion of our "games" and became interested in subtests where he had to complete picture patterns and match pictures that had similar characteristics. But oh! What was that on the floor? A red sticky gift bow left over from our holiday donations?! Squirmy had to have it, and couldn't concentrate on defining any vocabulary words that I was throwing around. Determined to make it stick to his head, Squirmy ignored all else... except his special Santa pencil, which he began rolling across the table. I pulled Squirmy into my lap, thinking proximity would help him to focus.

After he stopped trying to pull my sweater up, he discovered that maybe the red bow had stick left to it after all (or maybe I just have better balance, since it kept falling off his head. I wonder why). Onto my head the red bow went, and we began some word riddles.

Yes, gentle readers, there I was: sitting with a red holiday bow atop my head and Squirmy McAntsypants wriggling in my lap waving his special Santa pencil like a baton. I love my job.

Apocalypse Nowish

So... did the crazy train crash this week and let all the crazy escape? (I'm imagining that "crazy" looks like Ozzy Ozbourne right now... maybe it was the use of "crazy train")

I only ask because, after hearing from colleagues about the mass bird deaths in Arkansas and Louisiana, and the even mass-ier fish deaths in the Arkansas River, it sounds kind of scary out there. Add onto that the preposterous situation that was today, and I'm thinking that the apocalypse is on our doorsteps.

The first hour of my day went a little something like this...

9:00am - return to office after breakfast duty. Start to gather materials for the morning of CSE meetings we have planned.
9:02 - receive call that two fourth graders have walked out of the classroom and are running in the building (one of them was D; the "cool" thing didn't last very long). Someone who works with them both leaves to intervene.
9:03 - receive call that a 2nd grader is off the wall throwing books around classroom, etc. Since his usual case worker is predisposed with D and R, someone else goes to take care of that.
9:03 -  student's mother comes in to discuss his IEP. My colleague, MB, sits down with her.
9:04 - receive call that D admitted to hitting a peer across the face during breakfast. Inform teacher that someone is on the way to intervene.
9:04 - receive call that a 6:1+1 self-contained student going bananas upstairs in art. Someone goes upstairs to take care of the situation. Begin to hyperventilate. Meanwhile, D and R arrive in office unannounced. Aannddd...
9:05 - D hulks out and throws a chair across my office and hits R. Is taken by MB to office, kicking and screaming. R remains behind.
9:08 - after a couple more phone calls for wacky kids, the individual sent to deal with D and R initially returns to the office and takes R to nurse. IEP Mom leaves rather flustered.
9:09 - get another call for the 2nd grader. Art Misbehaver comes to office and goes to another room with another colleague to talk and calm down.
9:13 - MB has not returned after taking D to office, and she is running our CSE meetings, which begin at 9:30. I begin to panic, because I haven't gotten anything done for them.
9:15 - begin moving files, laptops, tape recorder, etc over to meeting room. Realize that Art Misbehaver is in there and is in engaged in deep conversation. Leave awkwardly. Question whether we informed district parent advocate of time of first CSE meeting. Scramble to find her phone number; fail.
9:17 - another colleague returns to the office with 2nd Grader and another young student whom I don't recognize.
9:20 - 2nd Grader and Friend are taken into our CSE meeting room. Still haven't found MB despite searching over first floor for her.
9:30 - prepared for CSE meetings, have found MB, in CSE meeting room, office informed to send substitutes to relieve teacher needed for meeting. But wait! R has taken off again, and MB heads upstairs.
9:35 - begin to wonder where my sanity has gone.
9:37 - begin to wonder where everyone for the meeting is.
9:40 - dad for the first meeting arrives with our district parent advocate (yay!). Still no teachers. Go to the office to find out what is going on. Discover classroom teacher and speech teacher are absent, but sub was sent to reading teacher. Call reading teacher--sub never arrived.

9:41 - die a little inside. Apologize profusely to CSE Dad. Find sub wandering hallway, discover he wasn't following the given schedule. Give him correct schedule, get attitude. Thanks.
9:43 - return to meeting room, apologize more profusely to CSE Dad. MB is MIA. Leave to find her.
9:47 - return to meeting room sans MB, but find her already in meeting room getting ready. Breathe for perhaps the first time since 9am. Reading teacher arrives.
9:52 - begin first CSE meeting of the day, 22 minutes behind schedule.

The rest of the day continued at a somewhat subdued level of ridiculousness. And, if you're on bated breath, D, R, 2nd Grader, and Art Misbehaver all went loco later in the day again, and I believe all were suspended. Oy vey.