Wednesday, September 10, 2003
AFTER SCHOOL MEETING, TAKE TWO
Another meeting after work today. As the meeting unfolds the mood boils down from cheerful chatter to solemnity. We have a new student; all the teachers have come together to meet with the student and the Dean of Students. The student's mother is also present. One by one, we are called upon to give any observations we have noted while teaching the student in the past few weeks. School has only been in session for 4 weeks. What could I have possibly noticed in the middle of trying to remember 125 names of kids who dress exactly alike every day of the year? I muse to myself that this seems to be my only accomplishment thus far. My turn comes. All are silent- English is a major subject, I should have something important to say. My offering of words is simple. Student X has a difficult time taking tests. The entire class finishes in 15-20 minutes; it takes the student the whole period. Whoa. I'm good at thinking on my feet. I finish my impromptu presentation, replete with words of encouragement and support. I like this kid, and I want to say something kind. The student has had a hard time fitting in, but I don't mention that; I let someone else do it.
The teachers finish their observations. Now the crux of the agenda unfolds. It seems the student suffers from a debilitating lung disease, among other physical complications. We are told the necessary measures to take if Student X should ever have an uncontrollable asthma attack. At this point of the meeting many teachers become concerned. So...this student could possibly pass away if we- the only rationally thinking adults in the room- do not act quickly enough to save him? Be sure to run to the nurse for help, they say. More confusion. Hands rise, eyebrows furrow, mouths open to speak and ask for elaboration. No, better yet, he may not make it so send a student to the nurse, they say. Heads nod slowly, indicating we have heard, but we do not understand. Somewhere I hear the words "mouth-to-mouth resuscitation" and "breathing machine." I feel my mouth go dry. I haven't taken a CPR class in 6 years.
Mother continues. Disorders are mentioned that I never knew existed: names of disorders that are as foreign to me as the transmission of my car. One large name sticks out. We are told that on a chart of diseases, this large-named disorder falls right above Down Syndrome. We conclude the meeting by learning that Student X's bones are as brittle as a person who is 103 years old. Or was it 110? After 100, do the numbers matter any more? Before the meeting ends, I steal a glance at the extremely healthy looking child I have named Student X. I don't remember reading anything about this in my education courses.
How will I give chest compressions if his bones might break?
Another meeting after work today. As the meeting unfolds the mood boils down from cheerful chatter to solemnity. We have a new student; all the teachers have come together to meet with the student and the Dean of Students. The student's mother is also present. One by one, we are called upon to give any observations we have noted while teaching the student in the past few weeks. School has only been in session for 4 weeks. What could I have possibly noticed in the middle of trying to remember 125 names of kids who dress exactly alike every day of the year? I muse to myself that this seems to be my only accomplishment thus far. My turn comes. All are silent- English is a major subject, I should have something important to say. My offering of words is simple. Student X has a difficult time taking tests. The entire class finishes in 15-20 minutes; it takes the student the whole period. Whoa. I'm good at thinking on my feet. I finish my impromptu presentation, replete with words of encouragement and support. I like this kid, and I want to say something kind. The student has had a hard time fitting in, but I don't mention that; I let someone else do it.
The teachers finish their observations. Now the crux of the agenda unfolds. It seems the student suffers from a debilitating lung disease, among other physical complications. We are told the necessary measures to take if Student X should ever have an uncontrollable asthma attack. At this point of the meeting many teachers become concerned. So...this student could possibly pass away if we- the only rationally thinking adults in the room- do not act quickly enough to save him? Be sure to run to the nurse for help, they say. More confusion. Hands rise, eyebrows furrow, mouths open to speak and ask for elaboration. No, better yet, he may not make it so send a student to the nurse, they say. Heads nod slowly, indicating we have heard, but we do not understand. Somewhere I hear the words "mouth-to-mouth resuscitation" and "breathing machine." I feel my mouth go dry. I haven't taken a CPR class in 6 years.
Mother continues. Disorders are mentioned that I never knew existed: names of disorders that are as foreign to me as the transmission of my car. One large name sticks out. We are told that on a chart of diseases, this large-named disorder falls right above Down Syndrome. We conclude the meeting by learning that Student X's bones are as brittle as a person who is 103 years old. Or was it 110? After 100, do the numbers matter any more? Before the meeting ends, I steal a glance at the extremely healthy looking child I have named Student X. I don't remember reading anything about this in my education courses.
How will I give chest compressions if his bones might break?
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