A week ago, I happened to run into another staff member at one of my schools who pulled me into her office and asked me for some advice on some kids she was working with. I should have sensed something off then. For one thing, she was telling me about a student she thought had "touch seeking" behaviors, and when I asked her what he touched she said he punched other students. "He's on a behavioral support plan," she added. "For what?" I asked. "Well, he gets in fights." I had to tell her that I was pretty sure kids who sought tactile input weren't solely doing it through the sensation of their fist against someone's face.
Sensory integration is the new buzzword. Teachers and other school staff read about it or hear about it and suddenly every student that acts up has sensory processing issues. Why blame the student for their own behavior, or worse, blame bad parents or an unstructured classroom. Let's blame brain damage!
The thing is, we all tap our foot when we're antsy, we all stomp when we're mad, we all get annoyed at times by the tags in our shirts. That doesn't mean we have a neurological impairment. In fact, I'd be more concerned about a preschooler that COULD sit perfectly still in circle time for twenty straight minutes.
But I assured her that I would send her a copy of the "tactile sensory strategies" list that I'm also forwarding to three hundred other teachers who think their student is a touch-seeker. This apparently gave her the impression that I was very knowledgeable and willing to help, because it did not stop there.
Every day since then I have received 3-5 emails from this woman asking me for my opinion on issues that are entirely within the scope of her job duties and nowhere near mine. I have no idea half the time what she is even asking me about. Not only am I new to this district, but I have been trained to do OT related things. Her job is completely different than mine. She uses different abbreviations, follows different procedures, has different contact people, and as far as I know she's been doing this job for several decades and should know these things by now.
But no. Just today in fact, she asks:
Laurie, I want to hold a meeting for a student but the nurse says she can't come on the day the principal can come. Do you think the nurse needs to be there?
I reply - I suggest that, since you are in contact with the nurse already, you ask her if she thinks it's necessary for her to be there.
An hour later...
Laurie, can you advice (sic) me on whether or not I should contact the PHY-DI teacher about this student too?
I'm not sure what a PHY-DI teacher is, but I'd advise you to contact that individual and tell them what you just told me.
Her reply...
PHY-DI is a physical handicap something. Is there any way you could tell me what to do?
I can't say for sure whether or not it'd be appropriate to contact them since I am not familiar with the specific case. I would go ahead and contact them anyway. If they didn't need to be involved, they'll tell you and then you'll know.
An hour later...
Laurie, I've run into a snag. The parent only speaks Arabic and has no translators. I contacted the translator's office. Do you know anyone who can translate Arabic?
I suggest you wait for the response from the translator's office. They would most likely know where to get a translator.
And so on. You should see the long list of RE: emails I have in my inbox with her name on it. So many questions. I almost feel like I'm on some sort of game show.
Of course, it's nice to feel needed. So far, I've gotten the "You're so young, are you sure you work here?"question so many times, it's become a little tiring. Next time, I might rip my ID badge off and say "The jig is up, you caught me. Now, I better get back to class before teacher notices I'm missing. I'm making a macaroni picture for Mommy!"
I get no respect.
Last week the OT assistant, Jamie, and I were trying to schedule treatment times with the teachers. Jamie did most of the talking since she's got this scheduling thing down pat. One of the teachers got the impression from this that I was an awe-struck dumb-founded student simply shadowing Jamie for the day. As we were leaving, the teacher asked, "What should I have the children call you?" and when Jamie replied, "Miss Jamie" the teacher dutifully wrote it down. Feeling a little left out, I added, "And I'm Miss Laurie." The teacher looked up at me, squinted her eyes and laughed. Like I'd just walked in wearing my mother's high heel shoes. I felt the way I do when they take my wine glass away at restaurants and replace it with a sippy cup.
But I've got to say, I'm not about to start beating my chest and demanding that they respect my "authoritah." As far as I'm concerned, the less people that know I'm the OT, the less people who'll be coming to me with their stupid questions.
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