No Bob. No. Or, I'm Just a Babysitter, right?

Well Bob was in fine form again Thursday.

He arrived in program after school and was already escalated.

There was a frantic, wild-eyed energy coming from him the second he walked in the door.
The school has the Scholastic book fair going on, and he purchased one of those stupid sticks with a hand on the end of it. Pointer, they call it... pain in the ass, I call it.

One of these damn things:


If you had to guess, what would you think a kid does with one of those?
Yeah, you probably guessed right.

I asked him to put it away after he'd poked three or four kids in the back, running around like a dervish.

Instead of putting it away, he raced across the room, waving it in the air and screaming.

Then, he appeared to remember the discussion we'd had in which we made a plan for him when he felt like he needed a break. (See previous post)

He went to the gym, sat in the door where I could see a foot.
Great.

Some of the other kids came to complain that Bob was in the gym. I said, "Leave Bob alone, he is taking a break."

So a bunch of other kids suddenly decided they needed to take a break, TOO.
I said no. And no and no and no. No one else was allowed to go to the gym.

Bob felt special. So instead of sitting in the doorway as we'd arranged, he got up and began running around in the gym, screaming.

Then, one of the kids who's new with me this year thought it would be okay to go in the gym and join Bob. Yeah, that was a great idea.

So I had to bring them both out of the gym and say that the gym was no longer an option for Bob. 

"This isn't what we discussed, Bob."

Bob then ran up to another child, grabbed her around the waist from the back and began lifting and dropping and lifting and dropping her. He did it repeatedly as she yelled at him to stop and tried to get his hands off her. It was only a few seconds until the assistant of the day (I am SO TIRED of having different people every damn day) stepped over to them (she was closer) and physically removed his hands from her waist, saying, "Bob, we don't put our hands on another person."

"MY NAME'S NOT BOB!! MY NAME'S NOT BOB!!"

Then he was off to the ball storage rack that sits in the corner of our space next to the floor-to-ceiling glass doors.  Climbed it like a monkey and stood on top. Made from tubular metal, it's five feet tall and holds all the playground balls that belong to the school. I could just see him tipping it over and then crashing through the glass. Although it's thick glass and I think it's meant to be bullet proof, it's still a rrreally crappy idea for him to be up there.

He jumped up and down on the metal tubing, the whole thing rocked precariously. Then he jumped off the side of it and ran away.

He ran around and around and around our cafeteria, crashing into other kids, trying to knock them over. "Bob. Bob. Please walk in this room, Bob."

"I don't have to walk. YOU have to walk. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up."

Great.

So I was following him around by this point. One on one, as they say. Which we can't do for extended periods of time, we're not set up for that. He decided he didn't like being followed, and took off down the hall and through the big double doors that lead out into the rest of the facility. Screaming. Great. I added 'eloped from program' to the mental list of things I needed to scrawl on a piece of paper for all the damn incident reports I was going to have to write later.

He came back toward the door and I said, "Bob, you're outside of our boundary. You need to be inside these doors."

"YOU need to be inside these doors!" he said. "You need to be inside these doors!"
He grabbed the long strip that's attached to the wall. It's to be placed across doors when you're wanting to block access.

School version of police tape, I guess.  Pulled it out from the dispenser thing on the wall, darted across to the other side of the doors and let go of it. It retracted into the wall with a loud smack. He hooted and did it again. And again. Telling him that it belongs to the school and not our program did absolutely nothing.

Everything I'd said or tried did nothing until 3, when our schedule says it's outdoor time.

We went outside. I can't keep the kids inside just because Bob's not behaving, right?

Outside, more tubular metal. Bike racks. Constructed of large tubes, they're on the asphalt near our covered play area. The kids aren't allowed to climb on them during program time, although I have seen many of them do it during school recess. Different rules for my program, both for licensing and for safety reasons.

He climbed on top. I said, "Bob, you need to get down. I don't want you to fall."

"I'm not going to fall. I'm not going to fall. You can't tell me I will fall, you don't know and you're STUPID."

I was surprised when it was time to go in and Bob lined up with the rest of the kids.

He even washed his hands with them.

Then it was back to defiance, screaming, running around the room.

I wrote down everything that happened, and on Friday morning a stack of electronic incident reports went to his parents.

I followed up with an email:

Dear Bob Parents,
I wanted to touch base with you regarding a plan in the event that Bob is having trouble calming down again.

First, I'd like to ask if there is anything I can do to support him when he's escalated. If you know of  a way or ways I can help or redirect him I want to try any effective methods of doing so.

I was not able to redirect him on Thursday (September 26th). He arrived at program already upset and I could not assist him in any measurable way throughout the afternoon.

He required one on one support for most of the time he was in program.
For the safety and well-being of all the children, we're not equipped to provide that level of care.

I will have to contact a parent to pick him up if we have another occurrence of one on one support needed for more than 15 consecutive minutes or repeatedly in one session.

I'd like to avoid him thinking that escalated behavior is a ticket to go home, though, so if I do have to take that step, I am hoping we can work together for him to think that it was merely time to leave.

Please let me know if there is something I can do to assist Bob when he needs a little extra care.

Thank you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm just a babysitter, right? I serve snacks, tie shoes and make craft projects.


Tell ya what, though. It's too much for me physically to have to chase a kid around like I did on Thursday afternoon. I care about the kids. And I wish Bob well. But I can't help him.

Bob is seven years old.