So… yeah… the new job. Wow.
Having worked in middle school Special Education for three years, I kind of figured I’d seen a good portion of what happens in the “Adaptive” education classes. Screaming fits, thrown objects, outbursts of eyebrow singeing proportions, and simply genuine out-of-control behavior. These were special needs kids who didn’t have a better way to communicate. I get that, I’ve had days when I envied their ability to just let it all hang out.
I changed diapers, hand fed breakfast and lunch, and attempted to coax some kind of academics out of my students. I liked it, but after too many lifts from a wheelchair, my shoulder had had enough and I had to shuffle off to a different program. HR said, “we have something at an elementary school, are you interested?” Sounded good to me. Smaller kids, no lifting 120 lbs from wheelchair to changing table.
“I’m in,” I said.
“Ok, your new assignment is in the AB room.”
“Wait, not special ed?”
“No, this is a new program.” She told me the name of the teacher I’d be working with and I jumped at it.
“Awesome! I’ve worked with him briefly before and he’s wonderful. Thanks.”
AB stands for Adaptive Behavior. That’s not what I call it, but we’ll go with the official title, m’kay?
Three days of school. That’s all we’ve had so far, three days. In that time I’ve had a student accuse me of being a female canine of low intelligence, remind me that my derriere is on the large side, insinuate that I perform incestuous acts with my maternal parent, and my favorite, informing me and the rest of the people in the room (including my new principal) that my female genitalia move rapidly in a strong breeze. Either that or when I walk, I’m not sure. It was hard to listen after the first part because laughing is not an appropriate response to such behavior from a student. All I could say was, “Ok, but you still have to do your math.”
But damn, it was funny. So, it either flaps in the wind or when I walk. I never realized it, but then my hearing is so damaged from the previous assignment that I probably just never noticed it.
Well, if the first three days are any indication of what I’m in for, it’s going to be an interesting year. I have a feeling that by the end of my time at this job, on my last day, if any student calls me “bitch,” I’ll probably just look at them and say, “That’s Ms. Bitch to you, kiddo.”