A #tbt from before I had this blog -
This is a story about a boy who will forever be known in my heart, soul, and terror center as “The Incredible Mike.”
(Mike is not his real name.)
Mike had sensory issues and could not handle sitting on the carpet, so he was allowed to sit at his desk. (The carpet didn’t feel right and he didn’t like the sounds of the people breathing too closely to him.) Mike also had behavior/defiance issues, so he was allowed to color on days that started off well. (We went to the carpet approximately 3 times a day, so he had three opportunities to draw/color daily - as long as he promised to pay attention.) Honestly, he paid better attention while drawing/coloring/creating than when he had to sit still, but that’s a different story.
On this particular day, Mike had entered the room somewhat subdued. He mentioned that his therapist changed his medication and it made him feel different. (The fact that an adult in his life didn’t let me know is neither here nor there. I’m just glad he could verbalize it.)
And, so, with all this exposition, I started our routine. For the first 45 minutes, Mike wasn’t with me. He was with the resource teacher for reading, but he came back when we started our reading time. He chose to sit at his desk and started his creating time. (The day before, he had finished the last of the Ninja Turtles as masks - I had a set of 4 on my desk that he and his friends wanted to use at recess.) He had a paper out, his crayons, and a pair of scissors. (I didn’t think anything of it, because he had created the masks yesterday and had told me of his plan to start the Avengers that day.)
I started reading Wemberly Worried (by Kevin Hinkes). It felt like I had been reading forever, but I had maybe gotten 5 pages in, when I noticed several students in the class were not paying attention. And then I looked at the smartest, most on-task, Golden Child all teachers dream of, and SHE wasn’t paying attention. She was attempting to get my attention in the most discrete way possible. (Well, she was six, so it wasn’t EXACTLY discrete.)
With her waving her hand and pointing behind me, I looked at her and said, “What is it, (Golden Child)?”
The only words that came out of her mouth were, “Look, teacher.”
There was Mike, flinging his last shoe off to the corner as he climbed onto the chair (then desk). I watched, horrified, as his pulled his shirt over his head, and it, too, landed in some corner or another after swinging it around his head like stripper.
“Eyes on me,” I told the rest of the class as I walked to the other side of the room to press the office button. “Eyes. On. Me.” I continued to read as I waited for office assistance. I watched as socks and belt were hurled. I asked for administrative assistance and hurry if possible. (Mostly, I wasn’t ready to have a conversation about keeping our clothing on.)
I flagged down a volunteer (a wonderful, grandmotherly woman) who continued to read while I distracted Mike.
Who was now 1) on top of his desk, 2) half- to- two-thirds naked, 3) flexing his muscles (?) while 4) roaring like the T-Rex from Jurassic Park. So, think The Incredible Hulk meets Magic Mike.
I got him off the desk and into the hallway and started walking him to the teachers’ work room when the principal came into the building at the opposite end of the hall. She starts with “Who’s with your class?”
“I’ll stay with them while you deal with this. Oh, and you should call his parent.”
“I think he needs a private place to calm down.”
Now, about the time I got Mike into the hallway, he started scratching at himself. During this exchange with my boss, he started DIGGING his nails into his skin and pulling his hands down his arms.
Well, Volunteer came out of the room with all Mike’s clothes. We got his shirt and socks on but decided not to push it with the belt and shoes.
I call the parents while Volunteer got wet towels and helped to calm him down. His resource teacher came and started distracting him. I talked to a parent. “Oh, yeah, they changed his meds.” Yeah, he told me. “Well, I can call his doctor, I guess.” I really think he needs to go home. He needs somewhere to be safe. (At this point, he’s babbling about people trying to find him, the clawing has turned into an anxious rubbing/scouring, and he decided to put his shoes back on.) “I can’t leave work. I’ll get fired. I’m already pushing it by answering my phone. Just keep him there. He’ll be fine.” Note: he wasn’t. “I’ll call you back when I hear from the doctor.”
I call the office and tell the secretary if Mike’s parents call, I need to talk to them immediately.
Mike has Volunteer and Resource Teacher trying to calm him down. I take one of the wet towels and start rubbing it down his arm while Volunteer does it on the other side. Resource Teacher gets his belt back through the loops. This seemed to soothe him, until it didn’t. He smacked our arms away and tried to run but we blocked him and convinced him to sit in a chair.
The clawing returned, raising welts on his arms and causing some minor bleeding. Resource Teacher realized he liked the pressure on his arms, but probably not the paper towel. She and Volunteer started to rub while I crouched down in front of him.
“Mike, I know you don’t feel right. You’re probably feeling like the Hulk.” I got a nod from that. “But the Hulk isn’t always the Hulk. I need Bruce Banner to come out. Can you pretend to be Bruce Banner?” He shook his head. “Well, let’s think about what it means to be Bruce Banner vs the Hulk.”
Using this comparison, I got Mike to talk to me. He was able to calm down and stop scratching. He buckled his belt and prepared to head back to class.
When we got there, Principal asked what took so long and only received a glare from me. I told her that Parent said to wait for a call. I wanted to know immediately and I wanted to talk to the parent.
No one came to help him that day. Every adult in his life failed him. Parent called and told me that the doctor failed to mention that Mike should receive this new medication ALONG WITH the old meds. He’d only gotten the new one that morning. Parent wasn’t going to bring him old meds or take him home though. None of his doctors insisted upon it. I’m not sure if they heard the part where he attempted to CLAW HIS VEINS OUT. Admin wouldn’t remove him from a situation where he was under duress (because, I’ve since been told, there was no reason for him to be under duress). And the only way I could reach him (by myself the rest of the day as I didn’t have an assistant and the volunteer was actually there for a kindergarten class) was by calling him Dr. Banner - to remind him that he was smart, calm, kind, and, above all else, human.
The thing Mike liked about Bruce Banner the most in that moment, for that day, was that he was human.
This child was hurting. He thought he was a monster. He saw himself as the Hulk. And I had to remind this baby (7 year old) that he was human in the only comparison he had. Bruce Banner.
Resource Teacher and I were talking about him today. He transferred out of our school about a month after this incident. I hope he is okay and I pray for him often. But I’m sharing this for a reason:
Parents: Allow me to be your teammate. I can’t stop your child from playing with someone you find “unsavory,” but I can give them tools to remove themselves from that situation. I don’t call for no reason. I need your help. Your child needs OUR help. I can only do what’s best when I have all the information.
Teachers: This job is one that makes you feel alone. You are in front of your class without aides, without other teachers, and sometimes without admin support (they’ve got their own problems to handle that can’t always be ours). But you’re not alone. The day after this (I left school AT 3:30 that afternoon) I walked in to a note on my board asking my students to be extra good to me. It was signed from the teacher in Lilly’s Purple Plastic Purse (a story we read days before and they loved that teacher). It was from my teammates who heard about my ordeal (and my 17 threats to quit that day).
General Public: When schools ask for more money - this is why. Stop cutting the funding. Our resource teacher was split between two schools the previous year. We were able to keep her part time because the state had given our district a smidge more money at the beginning of the year. (Not enough for another aide or teacher, but enough to keep the one we had full time.) Volunteer, if you can. You probably won’t run into an Incredible Mike, but you can run copies, help a teacher get organized, or work with students. Just an hour a week helps.
Btw: last I heard, Mike moved even farther into the country and got a puppy.
