They can’t always spell.
They can’t always read.
They can’t always write.
However, I have found Individualized Education Plan (IEP) students deserve a spot on my yearbook staff as much as the straight-A-in-every-English-class students.
From the category archives:
They can’t always spell.
They can’t always read.
They can’t always write.
However, I have found Individualized Education Plan (IEP) students deserve a spot on my yearbook staff as much as the straight-A-in-every-English-class students.
In May 2001, I retired after 30 years of teaching, and completed my 19th yearbook, my last one – or so I thought. In January 2003, my replacement suddenly resigned, and I was asked to finish the year. My concern for the students forced me back, but I struggled. In addition to facing a staff whose response to me was mixed, I discovered in March that our account, which enjoyed a $4,000 balance in 2001, was now $3,000 in the red.
I am addicted to conferences. I love to attend the workshops and conventions, where I can learn about new ideas for yearbooks, software and writing. I always leave with something I can use in my classroom. However, when I get back into my routine of grading papers and preparing lessons, my new-found ideas get lost in the shuffle.
It is hard to give up control. Even after three years as a yearbook adviser, I find it hard to know when to step in and when to let the staff make mistakes for the sake of learning from them.