Conflicted

I have used that word a lot to describe when I am unsure of what is the right thing to do or when I know what is right but my instinct is telling me otherwise.

Today, That Crazy Lady said she was conflicted...about whether to come back in the Fall! Apparently, she got a "glowing" review from the Assistant Principal which will supposedly open the doors for her to come back. That didn't bother me as much as what she also said.

She asked me about becoming a speech-language pathologist (i.e., requirements). I told her, but I spared lots of details (e.g., all the tears, sweat, and blood). Later on, when she told me about her "conflicted" state, she said, "I would love to be an SLP because what you do is really about working with the kids" -- which is very true as opposed to spending more energy and time on office politics -- "and I pretty much do what you do already and it's not hard."

The more I mulled over it, the more insulted I felt. I did tell her in my polite, peace-maintaining way that yes, it may seem like what we do is kind of the same, but our philosophy is different -- we go to graduate school for all the theory, which is important. We have to know why we do what we're doing. Our field is based on research and the application of theory is evidence-based, not practiced based on "gut feeling" which she loves to go off of (no exaggeration -- she put down the Autism Specialist with 20+ years experience in J320's IEP by saying that her "gut feeling" told her something about J320, which pretty much discounts decades of research on autism). Not to mention, I did not go through two years of intense schooling for someone to tell me that anyone can do my job.

How I service my different populations can look very basic and led by "common sense." However, I have an evidence-based and theoretical approach to what I do and why. For instance, I got a cheesy standing ovation from the aides today when I worked with J320 (this story actually cracks me up!).

It was time for group therapy (i.e., snack time) but J320 was throwing a major tantrum. His sub-aide was sitting with him at his station, yelling at him to "stop it! Stop crying!" and then she must have seen me approaching because she quickly switched to saying, "quiet sitting" (which is what I've been working on with him and verbally prompting). Aside from the yelling at him to stop, I was pleased that she was telling him that he had to first quietly sit before he could come to the snack table. Then TCL went over and told him two minutes of quiet sitting before coming over.

I was like, wait a minute Ms. Non-SLP-Non-BCBA. 1) The boy can't do quiet sitting for two minutes. I have gradually shaped his sitting behavior (and taken data) from 10 counts to 60 counts for a month and counting. 2) Do you even know what Quiet Sitting entails? (J320 probably knew more than her.)

So I asked the aide if I could quickly work with him. I had the crying kiddo stand up as usual, turn the chair, and sit down facing me. I squeezed his legs together between mine (for the
"quiet feet"). I also held his hands palm down onto his lap for quiet hands. This is all typical, but the next part was so awesome. I usually count with a whisper, but today, I counted barely audibly, but the kid has like hearing better than dogs (well, individuals with autism generally have hypersensitive hearing). He actually heard me and sporadically chimed into the counting, which distracted him from crying. Not only that, but around 20 counts, I let go of his legs for the first time (I usually have to hold his legs the entire 60 counts) and prompted only one time for quiet feet. Next, I let go of his hands around 40 counts (with one prompt for quiet hands, when he impulsively reached for a water bottle). Last, he was completely quiet by 60 counts and I threw the biggest social-praise party for him ("Wow! Give me 10! EXCELLENT QUIET SITTING! Let's get snack now!") --- And he just kept sitting there quietly!!! I was floored (in a good way). The aides literally clapped. LOL

J320 came over and started the crying at the table so I ignored it and only attended to him when he was quietly sitting. By the end, he was good. He actually finished snack time earlier than usual so I instructed him to clean up and then off he went, galloping around the room, stimming like crazy. The funniest part was that I was still working with two other kiddos when he sauntered back to see what goodies I still had. I asked him, "do you want popcorn?" He said, "popcorn please" and we started the whole snack time routine again! (I made him sit down, request for a napkin, and then the popcorn). I was laughing so hard about him coming back for a second round of snacks! That, too, was a first!

Anywho, that is speech-language pathology plus a touch of applied behavior analysis. I worked on modeling, fading the prompts (physical and verbal), used visual cues, and provided Functional Communication Training and differential reinforcement.

Speaking of applied behavior analysis (ABA), That Crazy Lady also wrote on one of the aides evaluation today that he needs to learn more about ABA. I thought, dude, don't get me started on that. For four months now, I've been studying like crazy and getting weekly lectures on what is and is not ABA ...and how the layperson calls a lot of approaches ABA when they're not (like TCL). Every week, one of us gets totally reamed because we called something ABA when it apparently wasn't. And for some reason, my supervisor gives us 2 SLPs the hardest time; he keeps insinuating week after week that our clocked clinical hours are probably not truly applying ABA.

Back to TCL -- that's two strikes from her in one day. Not that I want to throwdown with a crazy lady. By the time I got home, I was okay because I figured that if she is so adamant about not taking the CSET to become a Special Education teacher (I have no idea why; it's not like she wouldn't pass. She is quite intelligent), then there is no way that she would take the GRE, right?

Anywho, my work day ended even more anticlimactic. I drove for 46 minutes in traffic (usual commute is 20 minutes), and when I walked away from my parked car, I heard a hissing noise. I walked back to my car...and bless it, I had a nail in the same tire that I just patched a few weeks ago!! I must have gotten it in the alley. Thank goodness it happened in the alley vs. during my 46-minute commute.

I went upstairs and told BF (and I got the usual, "why do these things always happen to you? You have such bad luck." Did I mention that I seriously killed my work laptop for reals this time?). He suggested we go out for sushi (we discovered a delicious restaurant nearby). When we went down to swap parking spots not 20 minutes later, my low tire pressure sensor light already tripped.

Thank goodness I also didn't return the new wheel lock I bought and that I haven't gotten the wheel locks put on that tire.

At least it's the weekend!