I have often mentioned my work--my job, my passion--here on this blog. We have made the news a few times in recent years, usually in conjunction with a fundraiser event. This morning, CTV beautifully portrayed who GRIT is, and what we are all about. I'd love to share it with you.
The Essence of GRIT
Showing posts with label special needs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label special needs. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Going Old School OR SOTC 15/365
I meandered in and out of several buildings, but my favourite was the school house. The bookshelf lined with old novels and readers; the amazing natural light coming in through the tall windows; the nice, neat rows of desks. Clearly, I am an educator.As I moved around the small school house snapping photos, I also thought a bit about what it meant to be a teacher back in the early 1900's (and earlier, even). One teacher in a school house of about twenty children, ranging in age from 6-16. Thinking about the dynamic that would come out of that, I almost wonder if early 20th century schools had a better understanding and practice of differentiated instruction than some of our present-day classrooms have.
The teacher in 1900 would have be teaching at several different levels throughout the day. With one child, she would be demonstrating simple addition and subtraction, while with the teenager at the back, be working on algebra. Teaching the six-year-old to print his name, and the nine-year-old to do the same in cursive writing. She needed to know where each student was at in his/her learning, and support that level of readiness, whatever it was. I'm also guessing that older students were responsible for helping the younger ones with their learning from time to time, as well as caring for them in general.
Somewhere along the way, we lost that individualized learning, and started to present the set curricula in a set way to students. That being said, in the last several years, we have started to realize that differentiated instruction--teaching a subject in a variety of modalities to meet the unique learning styles of each student in the class--produces more successful students. We also recognize that peers can be powerful teachers, too. Peer-mediated instruction can be especially helpful for students with special learning needs.Sounds a lot to me like what was old has become new again.
Now, don't hear me wrong. I don't think we're headed for mixed-age classrooms and abandoning a formal curriculum; nor do I think that's necessarily a good idea. But just the concept of the teacher being intentional about taking each person's learning needs into account when presenting material, and establishing a class culture where everyone works together to support each other's learning and take care of each other a little bit... I think those are quite foundational characteristics for student success in the classroom.
And clearly, some have known this all along...
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Fairness and Sameness
Traveling with a family with a child with special needs is a unique experience. My friends are veterans at modifying activities and schedules to accommodate each of their three children, including the eldest, eleven, who has a complex disability.
The language of special needs and inclusion is everyday in their household. The other two little ones (currently seven and four) have been able to pronounce their sister's five-syllable diagnosis since they were two.
Earlier this week, we visited Qualicum Falls as part of the day's activities. We discussed which adults would go with which children, because wheelchair accessibility only went so far down the trail.
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I was one of the adults that went with my younger niece and nephew down the winding, stairs-and-hills trail to the falls. At one point, my nephew stated, "dis is not really uh-sess-ible* for P." We had a brief discussion about how it's really hard to make nature fully accessible because in nature, things just grow where they grow, and rocks and things just are where they are. At this point, the conversation ended for the 4-yr-old, but it still had me thinking a bit.
We try very hard where I work to encourage and implement universal design, so that communities, schools, playgrounds, and education are accessible for all individuals. Every stair case has a ramp or elevator near by; every book has a Braille or audio version available in the same library; every classroom is laid out and supplied to meet the unique learning styles of all its students.
Obviously, this is easier said than done sometimes. But on the whole, I generally think we're getting better.
And then there's nature.
The conversation with my nephew made me consider the idea that universal design and Universal Design might not necessarily be the same thing. The magnificent Creator--the Universal Designer--has blessed us with mountains, valleys, white sands, rocky beaches, a myriad of life on land and in the waters. Tall trees and low-lying shrubs. Calm winding creeks and rushing waterfalls. He has created it all for His glory. And yet, clearly, not everyone can access even such simple things as waterfalls and hiking trails
Would He really create a world that was not accessible to everyone who passed by?!
I stand at the edge of the trail, atop the gorge where, at the opposite end, a waterfall crashes. It's not a very big waterfall, but it is still mesmerizing to watch and oddly soothing to listen to. My niece in her wheelchair is maybe 500m away, down a 'lesser' trail, unable to take in any of it. And she's not the only one, I'm sure.
How is that fair?!
And then something my mother used to say to my brother and I echoed in my head:
"'Fair' does not always mean 'the same.'"
Sorry?
"'Fair' does not always mean 'the same.'"
My mother used to remind us of this when one of us would exhibit envy over the other's invitation to a birthday party, or one-on-one time with a parent, or something like that. We were two very different people, and so we engaged in different activities and were shown love and care in different ways sometimes.
And in effect, universal design operates similarly. It's fair, but not necessarily the same. A child with a visual impairment may need to listen to a book on CD, while the other has a hard copy with pictures. And yet, I would never say that the audio version is the 'lesser' book (in fact, if it is well narrated, it may have an advantage over a book that a child reads inside his/her head). Fair does not always mean the same.
So why did it bug me in regards to the waterfalls?
Because I don't see the same outcome.
The child who listens to an audio book and the child who reads her own copy both still end up experiencing the same story. By the end, they both know that the Hungry Caterpillar ate a lot of food one week and turned into a butterfly. They both know that Harry gets the Philosopher's Stone before Voldemort does. They both know that Romeo and Juliet kill themselves to be together.
But P doesn't know the waterfall that I know. So she didn't see the falls--OK. But she couldn't even really hear them from where she was. Totally not the same outcome.
But fair does not always mean the same.
Not the same means, but certainly it should mean the same end?
Fair does not always mean the same.
I don't understand.
She should be able to see the falls. She should be able to hold the starfish at the beach. These are relatively simple, yet meaningful, things.
Meaningful to her or to you?
Well, there's that. But certainly there is someone, somewhere, in a wheelchair, who can't see the falls and wanted to.
...Fair does not always mean the same.
I still don't understand. I don't understand why You would paint a glorious sunset that not everyone passing by the beach that evening would be able to see. I don't understand why you would reveal the knotted roots of a massive fallen tree that not everyone walking by could leave the trail to touch.
But I do have peace knowing that, while experiences of God's creation may not be the same, they are fair.
That is good enough for now.
The language of special needs and inclusion is everyday in their household. The other two little ones (currently seven and four) have been able to pronounce their sister's five-syllable diagnosis since they were two.
Earlier this week, we visited Qualicum Falls as part of the day's activities. We discussed which adults would go with which children, because wheelchair accessibility only went so far down the trail.
.jpg)
We try very hard where I work to encourage and implement universal design, so that communities, schools, playgrounds, and education are accessible for all individuals. Every stair case has a ramp or elevator near by; every book has a Braille or audio version available in the same library; every classroom is laid out and supplied to meet the unique learning styles of all its students.
Obviously, this is easier said than done sometimes. But on the whole, I generally think we're getting better.
And then there's nature.
The conversation with my nephew made me consider the idea that universal design and Universal Design might not necessarily be the same thing. The magnificent Creator--the Universal Designer--has blessed us with mountains, valleys, white sands, rocky beaches, a myriad of life on land and in the waters. Tall trees and low-lying shrubs. Calm winding creeks and rushing waterfalls. He has created it all for His glory. And yet, clearly, not everyone can access even such simple things as waterfalls and hiking trails
Would He really create a world that was not accessible to everyone who passed by?!
I stand at the edge of the trail, atop the gorge where, at the opposite end, a waterfall crashes. It's not a very big waterfall, but it is still mesmerizing to watch and oddly soothing to listen to. My niece in her wheelchair is maybe 500m away, down a 'lesser' trail, unable to take in any of it. And she's not the only one, I'm sure.
How is that fair?!
And then something my mother used to say to my brother and I echoed in my head:
"'Fair' does not always mean 'the same.'"
Sorry?
"'Fair' does not always mean 'the same.'"
My mother used to remind us of this when one of us would exhibit envy over the other's invitation to a birthday party, or one-on-one time with a parent, or something like that. We were two very different people, and so we engaged in different activities and were shown love and care in different ways sometimes.
And in effect, universal design operates similarly. It's fair, but not necessarily the same. A child with a visual impairment may need to listen to a book on CD, while the other has a hard copy with pictures. And yet, I would never say that the audio version is the 'lesser' book (in fact, if it is well narrated, it may have an advantage over a book that a child reads inside his/her head). Fair does not always mean the same.
So why did it bug me in regards to the waterfalls?
Because I don't see the same outcome.
The child who listens to an audio book and the child who reads her own copy both still end up experiencing the same story. By the end, they both know that the Hungry Caterpillar ate a lot of food one week and turned into a butterfly. They both know that Harry gets the Philosopher's Stone before Voldemort does. They both know that Romeo and Juliet kill themselves to be together.
But P doesn't know the waterfall that I know. So she didn't see the falls--OK. But she couldn't even really hear them from where she was. Totally not the same outcome.
But fair does not always mean the same.
Not the same means, but certainly it should mean the same end?
Fair does not always mean the same.
I don't understand.
She should be able to see the falls. She should be able to hold the starfish at the beach. These are relatively simple, yet meaningful, things.Meaningful to her or to you?
Well, there's that. But certainly there is someone, somewhere, in a wheelchair, who can't see the falls and wanted to.
...Fair does not always mean the same.
I still don't understand. I don't understand why You would paint a glorious sunset that not everyone passing by the beach that evening would be able to see. I don't understand why you would reveal the knotted roots of a massive fallen tree that not everyone walking by could leave the trail to touch.
But I do have peace knowing that, while experiences of God's creation may not be the same, they are fair.
That is good enough for now.
*accessible
Thursday, October 20, 2011
My Job Matters
I realize that the title of my blog post could come off sounding arrogant--as if to say, "my job matters, and yours doesn't." Not the intention at all. I really just want to emphasize that my job matters, period.
I work with children with disabilities. Really, my role is quite a bit more complex and varied than that, but that's the simplest way to outline it.
And my job matters.
I help give kids without verbal speech a way to communicate effectively.
That matters.
I help parents learn how to advocate for their child's needs.
That matters.
I make learning fun.
That matters.
I watch children, whose parents are told they would never walk, take their first steps.
That matters.
I teach children how to play.
That matters.
I teach others how to modify activities so their child/student can be successful.
That matters.
I make sure children are fully included with their peers in school.
That really matters.
Our new premier has already given due attention to education cuts that have were made in this province previously. I hope this decision is contagious among other provincial decision-makers, and that funding for children with special needs--which has been frozen the last few years--will thaw. After all, inclusion means supporting all students.
In the mean time, The GRIT Program does everything in its power to meet the needs of the children and families it serves. It takes a village to raise a child. We are so thankful for the community partnerships we have formed that help keep GRIT providing quality service to families. That matters.
I work with children with disabilities. Really, my role is quite a bit more complex and varied than that, but that's the simplest way to outline it.
And my job matters.
I help give kids without verbal speech a way to communicate effectively.
That matters.
I help parents learn how to advocate for their child's needs.
That matters.
I make learning fun.
That matters.
I watch children, whose parents are told they would never walk, take their first steps.
That matters.
I teach children how to play.
That matters.
I teach others how to modify activities so their child/student can be successful.
That matters.
I make sure children are fully included with their peers in school.
That really matters.
Our new premier has already given due attention to education cuts that have were made in this province previously. I hope this decision is contagious among other provincial decision-makers, and that funding for children with special needs--which has been frozen the last few years--will thaw. After all, inclusion means supporting all students.
In the mean time, The GRIT Program does everything in its power to meet the needs of the children and families it serves. It takes a village to raise a child. We are so thankful for the community partnerships we have formed that help keep GRIT providing quality service to families. That matters.
"...we don't know a child's full potential,
so we will assume it's limitless."
-- Barb Reid
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
An actual conversation at 8:56am today, as I am driving with a child to go swimming.
Me (special needs para-professional from the city): Hey, look--a big truck! We're going to pass the big truck; it's pulling a tractor! Wowww!
Child (4-yr-old with severe speech delay from rural Alberta): ...Dat's a back hoe.
Me: Oh. Back hoe. Gotcha.
* * *
It's okay. Yesterday I learned the term 'auger' at his playschool. Before, I just used to call it... well, I dunno what I called it. The child may have a speech impairment; I have a John Deere impairment.
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