Me to six year old developmentally delayed Gavin: Gavin, what is a cow? Gavin: A cow is a bovine.
Me, explaining how to do a maze to five-year-old Michael: Now Michael, see this little squirrel? Put your pencil on the squirrel and take him to this tree over here. (Michael enjoys taking his squirrel all over the page, everywhere but the tree) Me: OK, very nice Michael. Let's try again. This time take your squirrel over here to this nice tree. (Michael proceeds to take his squirrel on a long and squiggly journey around the page) Me: (very firmly, but nicely) OK, now this squirrel has been all over the page. This time, I need you to take your (blankety-blank, just kidding) squirrel over here to the tree. Michael: My squirrel doesn't like trees.
Me: Trevor, I am going to say some numbers to you and I would like you to say them back to me backwards. Let's try one. "Two, four." Trevor: Rof, oot.
Me: Brooke, what does transparent mean? Brooke: That is your foster parent.
Me: What does migrate mean? Child: It's a bad headache.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
The "What If Everybody Did" Therapy
I am a school psychologist in an elementary school. Recently I found a great bibliotherapy book for my little clients. It's called "What if Everybody Did?" by JoAnn Stover. On one page it shows a person tracking mud into the house and on the next page it shows the house if everyone tracked mud into it. Get the point? I thought I would try to make the point that we probably shouldn't be doing things, that if everyone did them, it would be a disaster. So we are making a "What if Everybody Did it at School" book, written and illustrated by five second and third grade boys with behavior disorders. Spencer fell right into the swing of things. He drew a picture of one kid pushing another on one page and on the next, mayhem. Brennan drew a picture of a boy bringing his dog to school on one page, and everyone bringing their dog on the next. The playground has fresh and warm looking brown piles all over it. Hey! Hold on! What is Ian drawing? He has a picture of aliens all over the playground. I asked him if Aliens are real and if everyone in the school even has an alien. He said no, they are pretend and no one really has one. I encouraged him to remain within the realm of reality. It wasn't easy for him.
With encouragement, he settled on drawing a picture of one boy throwing food and then a picture of everyone throwing food. Perfectly acceptable, within the limits of reality and actually even in line with the point I was trying to put across, that everyone throwing food would make it impossible to function in the classroom. Not too far into the process, however, it became evident that Ian was not shocked and dismayed, but delighted by the prospect of not one, but EVERYONE in the the school, pushing each other, bringing their dog, bringing their favorite alien and throwing food. The enthusiasm he displayed in completing his illustrations and the excitement on his face was deflating as I realized that the project had backfired and Ian actually thought that the school would be be a better place in all of these conditions. Back to square one.
With encouragement, he settled on drawing a picture of one boy throwing food and then a picture of everyone throwing food. Perfectly acceptable, within the limits of reality and actually even in line with the point I was trying to put across, that everyone throwing food would make it impossible to function in the classroom. Not too far into the process, however, it became evident that Ian was not shocked and dismayed, but delighted by the prospect of not one, but EVERYONE in the the school, pushing each other, bringing their dog, bringing their favorite alien and throwing food. The enthusiasm he displayed in completing his illustrations and the excitement on his face was deflating as I realized that the project had backfired and Ian actually thought that the school would be be a better place in all of these conditions. Back to square one.
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