Almost...There...

Life in a classroom for students with emotional disabilities (ED) is...different. One of the first and most useful things I learned as a student teacher was what we call, in short, "approximation." When you're teaching a student to replace an inappropriate behavior with an appropriate one, he may begin very...very...very far from the goal.  For instance, a new kiddo comes into your class and you quickly find that his regular education teachers and everyone else were right...this kid NEVER sits in his chair! (We'll get to absolutes like "never" and "always" another day.)  Even with you or a paraprofessional (I'll slip sometimes and call them "aides," which doesn't nearly describe what they do in your average special education classroom) sitting righttherenexttohim he will demonstrate that he has, in fact, not mastered the skill of just sitting still for five minutes! And it may be a long time before you see five minutes of sitting.  There are a lot of steps between zero and five, and it all involves approximation.

Let's be clear here...I can almost guarantee you that the kiddo isn't lacking in this area because nobody ever tried to teach him this skill, or his regular education teacher just "let it go," or "they" kept "letting him" get away with it.  I promise you, every teacher this little guy's had up until now has tried to get him to stay in his chair.  But with 29 other students in the room who actually are in their chairs, on-task (relatively), and ready to learn (for the most part), a classroom teacher can only spend so much time addressing this one student's many needs.  Because again, I guarantee you: sitting in the chair?  Not the only problem this little guy is having in the classroom.

After a lot of effort on a lot of people's parts, and many interventions (we love that word), and some behaviors that have become dangerously unmanageable in the regular classroom (throwing scissors at other students, running out of the classroom and heading for the major street outside the gate, throwing his chair in the general direction of the teacher's head) and a bunch of meetings and paperwork, this kiddo ends up in the special education classroom.  Guess what he's not going to be able to do the first day?  Sit in his chair.

So this is one of the great things about a self-contained classroom: the teacher in there does have the time to teach this guy how to behave appropriately in a classroom.  In a self-contained classroom for kids with emotional disabilities and severe behavior issues, that's the focus of the classroom.  The teacher to student ratio is much smaller, and we work with these behaviors on a daily basis. Yes, we are still teaching the three Rs, but we use these tasks to teach appropriate behavior skills.

And this is where approximation comes in.  Rome was not built in a day.  Baby steps are the most we can hope for.  Ultimate goal is for the kiddo to sit in the chair? Okay, today when this kid sits in his chair for 15 seconds he is going to hear what a great job he is doing!  "Nice job sitting in your chair! When you sit in your chair I know you're ready to learn."

Approximation involves another vital skill for ED teachers: ignoring inappropriate behavior.  This kiddo needs to learn that whenever he does what is expected, life is going to be wonderful and he's going to get all sorts of attention.  When he behaves in an unexpected way--jumping up and running to the bookcase--he loses all attention.  He knows the expectation: sit in your chair.  And we have the time to praise him every single time his bottom touches the seat.  And you know what?  That feels pretty good to this little guy.

At first he'll be surprised..."Wait, I did something right?"  And he'll wonder when we're going to yell at him for getting up.  But we don't.  Instead, he suddenly doesn't exist.  All the kids in the classroom who are sitting in their chairs are getting regular reinforcement for exhibiting this single skill: sitting in their chairs.  They get verbal praise, they may earn points on a point sheet, they may get some small but tangible reward.  What's this kiddo going to want?  Attention.  Praise.  Points.  Stuff.  And he's not stupid.  He's going to figure it out pretty quickly.  And the time he sits in his chair will increase in duration and frequency. Behavioral expectations are going to increase as well; it won't always be okay to sit for only 15 seconds. But for now, it's an achievable goal.

Sounds simple, huh?  If only it were.  So we need to make sure we catch him and reinforce him every time he even comes close to the behavior we're looking for.  It's how we shape behavior.  And it's how this kiddo gets one step closer to success at school.

Approximation can be bewildering for the uninitiated adult observer. A few will become so frustrated that this kid is getting any kind of praise at all when clearly he's not behaving as he should be! If we're lucky, those people aren't our bosses.

Malcolm was a second-grader who joined the self-contained classroom with many issues, and the first one that needed to be addressed was his physical aggression.  This little guy could not, would not, keep his hands, or feet, or head, to himself. If someone got too close to his toys, Malcom shoved him down. When another kid touched his backpack while standing in line, Malcolm punched him square in the gut. Frustrated with his math? He'd kick the kid next to him.  The classroom mantra became, "Malcolm, use your words to say what you feel!"  And we practiced and practiced and practiced using our words instead of our fists.  And when the drinking fountain sprayed him in the face, he turned around and head-butted the kid behind him.

Well, his breakthrough came.  Not at the most opportune moment, but hey...we take successes where we can get 'em.  Several students were working on the computers.  The principal and district superintendent dropped by for an informal visit.  They'd been in the room for about a minute when something went wrong with Malcolm's computer.  He shot up out of his chair and let out a string of profanity that would shock a sailor. (They wouldn't shock an ED teacher...but a sailor? Oh, yeah.)  And what feedback did Malcolm receive?

The kind any ED teacher worth her salt would provide: "Malcolm, great job using your words!  You are frustrated and angry and you kept your body to yourself!  Yay, Malcolm!  Yippee!  You used your words!"

And that, my friends, is how we do it in the ED classroom.