Teaching SEC

I started a new program after almost 20 years of teaching in special education. I had been a resource teacher, teaching children primarily with learning disabilities. Our profession allows us to enter into all aspects of the spectrum. My colleague, and friend Michelle used to run our severely emotional challenged (SEC) program. She was a champ

She was the model that everyone modeled their program after. They sent teachers from all over the district to see her program and see what she was doing in her classroom. She was the master. I was in awe of what she accomplished in her classroom with her kiddos.

We lost Michelle to covid during those years of the virus. It was hard. It was hard for me because I had left the school and we were not talking as much as we used to, but we were still talking. 

Now, after my return to Leavitt, I am filling her shoes. It is a hard position to fill and I refused to teach in her room. It was one of the conditions of me returning to the school. I told them that I would not teach in her room. Not only would I be haunted by her memory, but I also wanted a bigger room.

Michelle taught me so much. But, she taught me to trust myself. In doing so, I always knew I truly wanted to teach SEC or STAR as they call it now and fuck for all what it stands for. I just know that as a bipolar person, I feel that I am properly placed in the SEC classroom.

My goal in the first week of school was to make it the whole week without incident…

We made it to Thursday.

My little girl who identifies as a wolf got upset that the boys wouldn’t let her play jenga with them. One of the boys told her, “Go play with your dad!”

That set her off!

Next thing I knew, jenga blocks were being thrown and I was swiftly playing defense in a basketball game saying, “I’m not touching you! I’m not touching you!” in a five year old voice in my head while I was really forcefully and calmly saying, “I am not touching you.” 

When I jumped up between the tussle of jenga blocks, I got shanked by my girl with a block. She was mid throw and thrust the block into my belly. 

I kept trying to get between her and the other kiddo but she still got ahold of the container and threw it at the boy. Actually ground it into his arm. 

It was a bit of a blur.

There were jenga blocks being chucked. I was playing defense. A notebook got chucked at me and hit me in the head. The boy was dodging the blocks. 

I eventually got the kids separated.

Little girl out the door and little boy for a walk. Classroom calmed down and picked up.

Little boy came back and I was talking to him and checked him out and made sure he didn’t need to go to the nurses office because of the jenga container. He just said he wanted to go to PE. While he and I were conversing, my SPED team tried to walk in with my little girl. I told them to hold off as I had the other half of the altercation in my room still, so they pushed her back out and I maneuvered him out the door and down the hallway.

He had missed the bell so I needed to write him a late pass. I grabbed another teacher to write it for me and sent him on his way because my little girl was having a melt downnnnn.

As soon as I had not allowed her in the room, she freaked out that she couldn’t get her stuff. 

She threw a temper tantrum. 

Now, if you are having trouble imagining a middle school child having a melt down, imagine Linda Blair head spin and pea soup. I could have sworn there was a head spin but there was no pea soup. 

This baby tantrumed for over an hour.

This little one told us:

Shut the fuck up you bitches!

Stop fucking looking at me!

Let me just get my fucking shit!

Fuck you! You fucking bitches!

There were variants of these curses. It proceeded for an hour. She rolled on the ground. She kicked my classroom door. She actually high karate kicked it at one point. And almost world war Z’d the glass window with her head. She pounded the door with her body. Her shoulder. Her head. 

She threw herself into the door and fell onto the ground to where we thought she knocked herself out but she started blinking. But before that, I almost nudged her with my toe. She was so violent, I was too scared to get too close. 

I told her I would let her in the room if she calmed down.

She started wailing a death cry like a parent had died. Then, a second later. “I’m fine. I’m calm. Please let me in.”

“Okay baby. When you can be calm for two minutes I’ll let you in. One minute to show me you’re calm and one minute to show me you maintained it. We will go in.”

She would maintain it for thirty seconds and then lose it. 

Just wail. High pitch scream. Ear piercing screaming. I think my eardrum may burst from it. My own babies didn’t wail that loud.

At some point, she got up and ran down the hallway and screamed, “Stop following me bitches, I’m not a baby!” And high karate kicked the door open into the quad. We followed her out and around into the other side of the hallway.

We just followed as she circled. She was walking in circles.

I wasn’t paying too much attention when all of a sudden she started to charge me like a bull.

In my own self preservation and training, I got in a fighting stance and put my arm out.

She skidded to a stop right in front of me. Stomped her foot and snorted at me.

She sat down and cried. She wailed that she wanted to call her mom and needed to get to her cell phone to call her mom. 

Again we repeated that if she calmed down, we would let her get her things.

This is when the miracle happened.

This is when the thing happened that teachers live for.

This little baby is the flux of emotions, looked at me through her tears, rocking and said, “Help me. Please.”

“Of course I’ll help you.”

“Help me breathe.”

“Of course. Just like we learned today. Deep breathes. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Slowly. In and out. There you go baby.”

Slowly. Surely. She was getting it.

“Okay. We’re going to time you. Two minutes. Okay. We’re going to show you on the phone so you can see. Just keep breathing.”

In and out. The breaths came. I breathed with her. She calmed. Tears leaked from her eyes but she was calming down. 

She made her two minutes. 

We went to the classroom and got her belongings.

It was a rough day. She ended up needing to call her mom and getting picked up before school ended.

As a teacher, my goal was to make it the whole week without incident. We made it four days. That was pretty good by my guestimation. What I have been told about my program is that if admin does not need to be called to my classroom, then they are happy. Our SPED team handled our little one without admin help. They had no idea that any incident had occurred at all. When I told them I had been shanked by a jenga block, they had no idea what I was referring to. 

I had a nice rectangular bruise for a bit and a soreness that stayed for a moment. 

My first week in SEC taught me that Michelle was my hero and I did well to make it four days without incident.

I’m looking forward to my year with my kids. They are all amazing kids.