Paraprofessionals: Angels Among Us

I was asked to write a post about the qualities of a good paraprofessional (para). I could hardly do that without saying a few things about the super paras Tate has known.

When you have a young child with an IEP in public school, the paraprofessional is often the person with the most influence in his life for the school day. Yet, those valuable people are paid the least, frequently taken for granted, and given almost no voice sometimes. It is an upside down world we live in. If there was a Paraprofessional Hall of fame, some of the folks I am about to tell you about would have a plaque there.

Tate and Sydney with Shelly

When Tate began school, we stepped into an ideal situation in some ways. A Kansas University student who had been working with Tate in a preschool setting needed to spend a semester in a public school setting to fulfill her graduation requirements. She applied for the job as Tate’s para and was hired. Shelly was not a traditional student. She had kids and she knew first hand what it was like to have a son with autism. Her son was older than Tate and nonverbal. Because of Shelly, the transition from Tate’s private early intervention program to public school went very well. Shelly already knew Tate’s strengths and weaknesses. She was energetic, excited, and fun. Kids were drawn to her like moths to a light. Social skills teaching opportunities abounded. If playing with Tate meant they got to be with Shelly, the kids were always willing.

In my opinion, Shelly knew far more about autism than anyone else in the school building that year but no matter how many times I asked, I was not allowed to bring her into our IEP meetings or ask for her input. The reasons are not really valid ones in my mind. There was: Paras do not have the education teachers do. And: It would violate your child’s privacy. Then: We need the para with your child during the meeting. And of course: We are not required by law to allow it. I don’t know how many times I heard about how highly qualified my son’s para was but when it was time for the IEP meeting the para was not qualified “enough” to have a voice.

Tate's wonderful Miss Grace,
2nd grade

The next Para who made a real impact for us was Miss Grace. I smile just typing her name. She made learning fun. She often went far beyond her paid duties to help make a real difference in Tate’s life. In first and second grade, Tate cried often in the morning because he did not want to go to school. A reminder that Miss Grace would be waiting for him could sometimes turn him around. Miss Grace is beautiful and Tate was enamored. She could cajole Tate into touching finger paints or clay, and doing a lot of activities he disliked. Miss Grace really got to know Tate and she genuinely liked him. She is very outgoing, taught him a lot about teasing, and she was with Tate as a coach through many of those playground interactions with his peers that his IEP called for. Grace is likely responsible for much of the social progress Tate made in the primary grades. To this day when we run into her in the community, she can engage Tate in twenty minutes of active conversation without breaking a sweat. I am his mother and I can rarely do that. Miss Grace has a gift and I will forever be grateful she shared it with us.

Tate was without para support for a while in third grade and substitutes were coming and going. One day I happened to be at the school when a new sub showed up. His name was Richie. I did not know it at the time but Mr. Richie was to become my hero. In the paragraph above, I said that I smiled when I typed Miss Grace’s name. My vision actually blurred with tears when I typed Richie’s name. Mr. Richie was everything we needed and has made a life-long impact on us. I can imagine we will still be referring to Mr. Richie when Tate is old and gray.

Mr. Richie and Tate, 3rd grade

There was a bit of an ironic beginning though. Richie is black, and Tate in his younger years had been quite racist, much to our embarrassment. Tate was not taught this by example I can assure you! Like many other irrational fears that come with autism, Tate was uneasy around “brown skinned people” in his own words. The first day Mr. Richie showed up, I walked over to the teacher to warn her Tate would likely be rude and even fearful. But thankfully, I don’t think Tate ever noticed Richie’s skin color. If he did I never heard about it from anyone. And if Tate had been rude, Richie probably quietly laughed about it, understanding that autism often causes misperceptions. Richie just “got it” from the very beginning.

Tate with Mr. Richie, 4th grade

If I were limited to two words to describe Richie, they would be: “autism whisperer.” But fortunately I can say much more. Mr. Richie was with Tate for much of third grade, all of fourth, and all of fifth grade. Mr. Richie has a huge presence but I don’t know how he does it because he is one of the quietest guys I know. He taught Tate to do things no one else was having any luck at. Mr. Richie always seemed to know what Tate was thinking. He could talk Tate down from a meltdown as well as I could have myself. Maybe better. He was firm yet kind. Academically Tate did very well with Mr. Richie at his side too. Richie was good at getting Tate to try new activities and foods. Tate wanted to please Richie because he cared about what Richie thought. THAT is huge in our world. Tate does not show much affection or appear to have much interest in many people other than family; but he connected with Mr. Richie. Mr. Richie taught Tate many social skills. That lunch buddy program I am always blogging about had a waiting list because the kids loved eating with Mr. Richie probably much more than they liked helping with Tate! (Tate's Lunch Buddy Program Described)

Several times Tate got frustrated enough with Richie to say, “You are fired!” Once was when Tate had become obsessed with his watch. He used his watch as a visual stim and would stare at his watch to see the numbers change when he should have been doing his classwork. Richie occasionally had to take the watch away from Tate. No one but Richie could have taken that watch and still gotten Tate past the meltdown and refocused on the task at hand. Autism whisperer, I’m telling you.

Team Tate is amazing

The Junior High transition had the potential to be a real nightmare but in stepped an amazing new para named Miss A. She is young, full of enthusiasm, always has a smile, and is as much a friend to Tate as she is a teacher. I do not think sixth grade would have gone half as well as it did without Miss A. This year Tate has Miss A with him part of the day but he has also graduated to rotating through Paras as he goes from class to class. There are four total and I like all four of them! More importantly, Tate likes them all and they are really good with him. 

I understand that not everyone has the experiences that our family has had with wonderful, caring paraprofessionals. I’ve heard stories from teachers and other parents, of paras who hurt or neglected their child. One teacher told me of a para who slept through parts of their day in her classroom. I hope those are the exceptions and most people are having the kinds of experiences we have had.

And that brings me to the topic I was asked to write about: What makes a good paraprofessional? Of course many of the qualities of a good para are obvious. A para needs to be kind and compassionate, enjoy children, and have a good attitude-- even when the job is messy or hard. The para must be able to teach at the grade level of the child they are helping. If a para is helping in the high school in an algebra class but cannot do algebra then no one is going to benefit. A para should be physically fit enough to stick with the child they have been assigned to work with. Tate needed social skills coaching on the playground when he was in elementary school. Tate also required para support in PE at times. His para was sometimes called on to run up and down a soccer field or play kickball. Some kids with autism have elopement issues too. A para needs to be able to keep their young charge safe.

Then there are qualities that might not be so obvious. A sense of humor will sure come in handy. It is important not to take it personally when a child with autism says what they think. Many times Tate has reported to one of the adults in his world that their skin is a bit wrinkly or they are getting up there in years. Sometimes these kids are funny! Enjoy them! I love it when I get a note from one of my kids’ teachers sharing something fun they have said or done. I will add this disclaimer, before I get messages: Of course, there is a difference between laughing about something kids say or do, and laughing at them in a mean-spirited way.

A para should not be squeamish. A person hired to work with a handicapped child should not be afraid of sticky fingers, sneezes, drool, or puddles of any other bodily fluids. A para might be called upon to teach a child to: blow their nose, comb their hair, use a fork, button, zip, tie, wipe or wash, among many other things. A para might be asked to teach using: water, sand, dirt, clay, shaving cream, paint, or many other substances.

A para may need to learn sign language, braille, or other skills just so they can work with one student. My kids’ paras have had to do some things they may have never considered when they applied for the job. Some skills might seem insignificant yet make a big difference for the child. One para has spent hours of hard work teaching my little girl to play one song on the recorder. The other students in her class were onto much harder pieces by the time my daughter mastered that first song: Hot Cross Buns. The para was probably hearing that awful whistle in her dreams at night due to all the time it took, but she was so patient. I had given up all hope of Sydney mastering that song but the para had not. I had even asked Sydney’s teacher if they could just “skip” the recorder but Sydney insisted she wanted to learn to play that recorder, just like her peers. Because of the tenacity and patience of one para, Sydney can proudly play that song. 

Students with special needs can have a lot of energy. Of course some are even hyperactive. On the other hand, students with special needs can be inactive and very slow moving. Either way a para will need to have a lot of energy. My daughter Sydney has ADHD and is hard to keep up with, while my son Tate moves at a snail’s pace. When Tate was in preschool, a teacher once told me she always had an energy drink before working one-on-one with Tate because she needed enough energy for both of them. The more fun and alive she was, the more engaged Tate would be. I’ve never forgotten that. She made a really good point. Paras need to be very engaging; no matter how hard their pupil is to engage.

Sometimes a para has to spend a lot of time taking data and doing paperwork. For many parents, the note they send home is very important and cannot be neglected. (Click here to read about that invaluable note home.) It is a parent’s link to school and helps them to know what their child is working on and how they can help. The data a para is sometimes called upon to collect may seem a waste of time but is very important in determining what kind of help the student will receive. Sometimes a para may not appreciate what is asked of them but they are required to do it anyway. A para must be able to “grin and bear it.”

Paras will be called upon to make personal sacrifices on occasion. A para might be asked to do something minor, like discontinue the use of perfumes so a child with sensory needs can be more comfortable. But bigger sacrifices are asked too. Some paras go home with bruises. There are students who exhibit self-injurious behavior and some who become violent. Paras have to be able to keep the student safe or even defend themselves without returning any aggression. And it all has to be done while staying calm.

Who are these people we ask so much of and pay so little? Who are these people who love our kids and see their potential? Who are these people who have to implement all those “great ideas” our kid’s teams think up while we are in those IEP meetings? Who are these people who keep coming back for more? They are “angels among us” and they are called paraprofessionals. They make a difference in our children's lives every day in little ways that we will never even realize. They make a big difference in our children's lives and whole family's lives in the end too. They help make our children who they become. There would never be enough money or words to reward these people the way they ought to be rewarded. 

Posts you might enjoy: An IEP Tutorial or 12 Things I'd Like My Son's Teacher to Know About Autism 

It's a Small World

I LOVE New York City. Ten years ago my husband and I spent 24 hours in NYC and I have longed to get back since then. I walk around in wonder and amazement while I am in NYC! But, I love my life in Kansas too. They are worlds apart though! Or are they?

On the way from the airport to our hotel on Times Square our cab driver was pointing out the sites. He pointed to the Empire State Building, and several other landmarks as we drove and when we went into the Queen’s midtown tunnel he explained that we were actually under the East River. He gave us a lot of interesting information and told us where a lot of things were in NYC that we might want to see. I asked him if he’d ever been to the places he was telling us about. He said he’d lived in NYC his whole life and had been to almost none of the places tourists come to visit. 

Not in Kansas

The next day I got to chat with a friendly clerk in a store for a few minutes and I asked her a few questions about her life here. She said she had always lived here. She said the tourists are walking around looking up at all the tall buildings and she is thinking, “they are just buildings. What is the big deal?” I asked her if she had ever been to The Natural History Museum, as we were on our way there next. She said she had not. I have asked several New Yorkers for directions. They could often tell me which train to take but if I asked them if they had ever been to (insert tourist attraction here) mostly the reply was, “No.” WHO would NOT take advantage of all these wonderful things if they lived right here? The answer is “the locals.” After I thought about it though it made a lot of sense. I have lived in Kansas for almost forty years and I just saw a field of sunflowers for the first time last summer. They have always been just a thirty-minute drive away every summer but I’d never taken the time to go. They were beautiful, in many ways more beautiful than the things we saw in the museum today. There are a lot of museums and other things in Kansas City that I have heard about that sound cool but I do not have any plans to do them. Why is that?

One of the things you often hear about NYC is how rude people are. We have seen and heard a few very rude things while we were here but we’ve also seen and heard a lot of nice things while we were here. I am not sure that the people of NYC are any ruder than people in Kansas. I can tell you that the people in NYC walk a whole lot faster than the people in Kansas though!

The very noisy subway

The subways… the subways are amazing and crazy and loud and frightening. To me. But not to a New Yorker. The traffic on the streets is nothing like you find in Kansas either. There is constant honking. Sydney asked our cab driver from the airport why everyone was honking so much. He looked surprised and said, “What? Cars in Kansas don’t honk?” We told him that we rarely honk our horn. He seemed very surprised. We walk slower, drive slower, and honk less, in Kansas. Ha

We saw something heartbreaking in the subway and Sydney wanted an explanation. There was a very pregnant homeless woman who was asking for money. She seemed very drunk or perhaps she had been doing drugs. How do you explain something like that? I did the best I could. I have thought over and over about the baby that will soon be born. Will he or she end up in a loving home as Sydney has?

We also found a little bit of home in the subway. I noticed a man sitting directly across from us with his cell phone out. He had a picture of a Jayhawk on his phone. If you’ve seen very many pictures of Tate then you know Tate almost always wears a hat or a hoodie with a Jayhawk on it. A Jayhawk is the mascot for Kansas University. Tate does not really follow sports but he loves that mascot. I said something to Shawn about the guy’s phone and Shawn asked him if he liked the Jayhawks. The man smiled and said “Rock Chalk?” I pointed to Tate’s coat, which has a Jayhawk on it. The man had grown up in Kansas and had gone to KU but had lived in NYC since the eighties. We got off at the same stop and walked together for a while. Although small town Kansas and NYC are very different, we are not REALLY worlds apart. We are on the same planet, and it is still a very small world we live in.

Sydney's Passion for Cows

Monday I took Sydney to her happy place, the sale barn in Overbrook. We weren’t there to buy or sell. She just loves to be close to the cows and watch them walk across the auction block. She oohs and aahs over every cow that walks in front of us. She comments and exclaims over each one. She keeps looking at me to make sure I am seeing what she is seeing. She wants me to agree with her. They are beautiful. She has favorite breeds and colors but she believes they are all beautiful. I do not know exactly why my little girl finds cattle so enchanting but she is crazy for them. She has been for many years now. She loves all animals but cows are her passion.

The cattle sale does not start until 11:00 usually and Sydney is up at the crack of dawn so she was very anxious to get going Monday. I suggested she pretend she was an auctioneer and try to auction off her plastic toy cows. I played with her for a while and then moved into the kitchen to do some cleaning. I could hear her though. Her toy farmer was bidding on cattle. She asked him if he’d like to buy one of her bulls for $300.00 and the farmer said that was too much. She asked him if he’d buy it for $2000.00 and the farmer said, “Yes, that is much better.” Numbers are just not her thing. Ha.

 

Grandpa's herd

We’ve always had cattle close enough to the house that she can catch sight of them most days. My dad, her grandpa, usually has about thirty or so head, mostly Black Angus or mixed breed cattle. Almost every day grandpa goes into the pasture to check on his cows, usually stopping by to pick Sydney up so she can go along. It is the highlight of Sydney’s day. She will forgo swimming, playing with friends, eating, games, movies, or shopping, all activities she enjoys, if she can go with grandpa for the ride through the pasture. I am so glad my dad takes her. It is a special memory she will always have, long after he is gone. It was my dad that introduced Sydney to cows and to the sale barn experience.

Sydney relates well to all of our animals. As I mentioned in a recent post, they do not get tired of her constant chatter or her pestering as people do. I often think of the famous Temple Grandin and how well she relates to cattle when I see Sydney interacting with the cows, dog, and horse. Although Sydney does not have autism as Temple Grandin does, they do have similarities. Perhaps Sydney will work with animals one day if her interests do not change as she ages.

Sydney with Obadiah

Sydney has two cows of her own right now. They have unique names: Obadiah and Habakkuk. When these calves came into our lives, Sydney was learning the books of the Old Testament so she chose to name the calves after prophets. She has shortened the names over time to Obah or Obie and Backa. Obie is a steer (male but not a bull, for you city folk). We bought him from a nearby dairy farmer. Backa, a heifer (female calf, for you urbanites), came from the cattle auction. Obie is an Ayrshire, a dairy breed and Backa is a Hereford. Obie will need to be sold soon. This breaks my heart for Sydney. Obie and Sydney are in love. Backa likes Sydney just fine, especially if she has grain in her hand. But Obie and Sydney have a special bond. Backa is still penned close to the house, too young to be put in with the bull because she is much too young to breed. Obie was turned out into the big pasture at the beginning of the summer. When Sydney sees Obie up close to the house or when grandpa takes her out into the pasture, Obie lets Sydney hug and kiss him, pet him and pat him. If he is lying down, she climbs on him or lays on him. He tolerates it all. He is big enough now that I worry a little bit about how strong he is and how little Sydney is but he sure would not hurt her on purpose. Can I pet Obie? No. Can my dad pet Obie? No. If we get close he walks or trots right away. Sydney has spent so many hours with that calf from the day we brought him home that he has bonded with her. Sydney knows that Obie will have to be sold one of these days and she knows what happens to steers. Some days she seems okay with it and some days tears well up if it is mentioned. I always remind her that she can get another calf and occasionally that perks her back up. It is tough sometimes, being a farm girl. We see a lot of animals come and go.

A few days ago we got quite a laugh when Sydney became confused about something. Habakkuk is a Hereford. That is the breed. She is also a heifer. That is her gender. Sydney knows this. But, she became confused a few days ago about how we could call Backa both things. She asked Shawn if Backa was a mixed breed, half Herford, half heifer.

Sydney pours over books about cows. It is amazing the number of books I have been able to find her about cattle and the different breeds there are. She memorizes the cattle breeds but like many of the things she learns and knows reliably for a while, she loses the information and has to relearn it. This is due to the brain damage from Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. Some breeds she does not forget often though. Those are her favorites. She LOVES longhorn cattle and there is a pasture of those close by that I sometimes take her to see. I can park the van on the gravel road next to the fence and sit there for a very long time before she is ready to go. A Charolais (pronounced Shar Lay) is a breed of white cattle that Sydney really likes. A Brahma is another favorite of hers. It has a very unique look to it. We have seen a very few of those come through the sale barn but we’ve never seen any out in pastures nearby. She likes Herefords, Black Angus, and Holstein cattle a lot. Many of the other breeds she can name without help some days, while other days the names are totally lost for her. Thank you birth mother with a drinking problem (sarcasm intended).

Sydney knows every pasture with cattle in it and what breed or color of cattle the pastures contain between home and all our regular destinations. If a farmer moves a herd of cows or sells some, it does not go unnoticed by my little girl. On our way somewhere this past week she exclaimed, “Hey, there are usually lots of black cows in that pasture. I wonder where they are?” Sure enough, I did not notice until she pointed it out but the cows were missing. Sometimes it is as detailed as, “There is usually one white faced cow in with all those Black Angus. I don’t see it today.” Sometimes she worries about where the cows went, hoping the farmer did not have to sell them. When I go somewhere without Sydney I sometimes find myself listening for her to exclaim, “Aren’t those cows so cute?” from the backseat.

Sydney's herd

Sydney’s preferred toys are not Barbie dolls, but plastic cows and tractors. She has a couple of plastic barns and a livestock trailer. She asked for a grain truck for her birthday. THAT was hard to find. Sydney builds elaborate fences out of Lincoln logs and she “farms” all over the living room. She does play with other things like baby dolls but often cows are incorporated into that as well. She scans Netflix, looking for shows about animals, especially about livestock. This week Sydney thought she’d like to watch a movie with her oldest sister. Her sister said, “How about a love story?” Sydney said, “Ohhhhh yeah, one with cows in it.” I gave up long ago trying to interest Sydney in Disney princesses and tea parties. I decorated her room in what she loves. She has photos and posters of cattle on her walls. Her bedspread is covered in cows and her curtains are barnyard animals. She is very proud of it. She may have started out in Pskov, Russia but she’s a Kansas farm girl now!

Like what you read?  Want to read more?   Sydney, from the back seat of the van

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