u/Pizza-Kurwa

I've worked for a decade in school districts of various sizes and with different populations. The last few I've been in my first large district and I'm not sure if it's just my district in particular, but I'm finding:

- limited top down communication in general

- if there is important information, it's sent in an email that most people don't read because it's so long and filled with various links

- limited collaboration time with teachers due to the number of IEP meetings and other school meetings (committees, professional development, etc.)

- different teams in different buildings function very differently, and those of us who travel across the district are expected to be flexible or work ahead to accommodate all the demands

If I'm burned out, it's because there are more thoughtful ways to handle all of the above. But advocating for myself (and students when necessary) and offering solutions doesn't seem to go anywhere with administrators.

Has this also been your experience? Or do you have tips for how to survive in this type of systematic dysfunction?

Sincerely,

It's May and I'm spending my summer job hunting...

Have you ever actually ordered a custom t-shirt for a special event? I never have. Apart from the vague idea of ​​“making memories,” I genuinely do not understand the obsession.

Ashley's Bachelorette. Smith Family Reunion. Bike-a-thon 2017. Cute? Sure. Necessary? Not really...

I work in public schools in the US, and schools pump these things out constantly. Choir concerts, fun runs, field trips, field days, kindergarten graduations. It never ends.

But why? If the goal is unity or visibility, why not just say wear a red shirt for field day or wear a white shirt and black pants for the concert? If cost is the concern, schools could keep a small stash of basic non-specific shirts and pants and reuse them or give them to families instead of creating a new design every time.

Most of these shirts will never be worn again. Maybe they get demoted to pajama duty or used for messy chores, but that is the best case scenario. Usually, they just sit in a drawer until someone finally gives up and donates them.

I've been handed several after events, and they just take up space. Half the time I end up tossing them into Lost and Found because I have no idea what else to do with them. I don't know how to address this with others, even those who say they care about the environment or reducing waste. Ugh.

Edit: 1000% agree that these shirts are better than customized plastic crap. At least shirts can be worn again or cut and sewn into something else.

And t-shirt quilts and ironic thrifting aren't for me, but you do you. Better than a landfill or filling up Goodwill.

It was almost 9:00pm on a school night. The local watering hole on the boardwalk was quiet. I was leaning against the bar counter with a fellow teacher from my school. Despite us both being under 30, we were both tired in that particular way all teachers get by midweek.

She was telling me about her life post divorce, swirling the straw in her cocktail as she talked about splitting furniture and how she was finally remembering what it felt like to have her evenings to herself again. I was telling her about the weird guy who had lived in my apartment building, the one who dressed like a cowboy and bought cat food for the seagulls.

We were laughing about that when another weird guy approached us.

He walked towards us like he wasn't sure how to enter the conversation. Scruffy beard, jacket that looked like it had been used as a rag more than clothing, and a smell that was equal parts cigarettes and motor oil. As soon as he spoke, it was clear that this man was likely developmentally delayed. And probably drunk.

His voice was loud and he couldn't pronounce R sounds, much like my kindergarten students. He leaned in close. Too close. Then he tried putting the moves on my coworker.

"Hey girl," he said, grinning like he had practiced it in the mirror. "You look real nice tonight. You wanna dance or something?"

Nobody in the bar was dancing. There was music, but it was barely audible.

My coworker gave him a polite smile, the one teachers master early in their careers. She said, "No, thank you. I'm talking to my friend."

He nodded, shrugged, and without missing a beat turned to me.

"What about you, then?" he said, "You single? I work down at the fish cannery. Been there eight years. Hard work, real hard work. I'm a great dad, too. Best dad. My kid loves me."

Before I could respond, he dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He swiped a few times before thrusting the screen toward our faces.

It was a picture of a little boy sitting on a toilet, pants around his ankles and looking confused. The man beamed with pride.

"I showed him how to do that last week," he beamed, giving me a grin that was missing more teeth than it had. "He’s potty trained now. That was all me."

I blinked, trying to process the fact that I was looking at a photo I should absolutely not have been seeing. Especially because it was, in fact, one of my students.

I laughed, unsure of what to say. Then I said the first thing that came to mind.

"That's really interesting..."

"Yeah?" this guy said, leaning in like he was waiting for applause.

"Yeah," I said, "Because his mom told me you haven't seen him in almost a year."

His smile dropped. His shoulders tightened. He put his phone back in his pocket so fast it was almost a flinch. He turned and walked away without another word.

My coworker watched him go, then looked at me with wide eyes. She covered her mouth until he was out of earshot and then burst out laughing.

"Really?" she asked, lifting her cocktail to her lips.

"Really," I said, and took a long drink of my own.

After that night, I started recognizing the guy whenever I saw him around town. He was usually smoking with the other cannery workers or stumbling out of bars. I never saw him at a parent teacher conference. And of course, my student only ever talked about his mom and grandma, as if this guy didn't exist.

This year I've been working with moderate–severe students across several K–12 self‑contained classrooms in a large district.

Some of my classrooms are genuinely wonderful! The teachers embed AAC throughout the day, respond to forms of non‑speaking communication, and treat students with respect. In those rooms, my role ends up being more like tech support, like helping adults troubleshoot devices, modeling navigation for students, and fine‑tuning systems. It feels meaningful, but also I’m only needed when someone has a device question or when the room is short‑staffed and I’m pulled into a para‑educator role.

Then there are the other classrooms. In those rooms, I’m not doing therapy at all. I’m managing behavior because it's unsafe and the teacher lacks the skills to run the class. The environment feels more like a chaotic daycare, even at the secondary level. Students spend the day watching YouTube, playing with playdough, or asking for junk food if they're not bribed with it. With the exception of a few students, they refuse to engage with me even for preferred activities, or they escalate because they’re used to having zero expectations placed on them. There’s no specialized instruction happening. Maybe a three‑minute YouTube clip is shown and that’s considered “academics” for the day. No adults reading books to them. No practicing job skills.

I’ve tried addressing concerns directly with these teachers. Apparently previous SLPs have brought issues to admin. The consensus from my predecessors is that admin don't care.

I often go home feeling awful. I find myself thinking that if parents knew what their child’s day actually looked like versus the IEP or the lies the teachers tell, they'd be horrified. I worry about what to write in progress reports. If I had to bill for my services, how would I justify what I’m doing in these environments? It feels like I’m not providing meaningful therapy because the setting itself isn’t conducive to learning, let alone communication work. And this isn’t isolated, it’s happening across multiple classrooms in the district.

If you were in my position, what would you do? It feels like I should be sounding alarms or looking for a new job. I love this population deeply, but I’m heartbroken that these are my working conditions and the school experience these students are receiving.

I'm not referring to neurotypical kids always using devices in public, although that's concerning in its own way. I'm talking about increasingly extreme behaviors in elementary-aged students with high support needs.

I'm noticing more challenges with AAC implementation and overall classroom engagement. Many of these students seem to associate iPads, phones, and laptops almost exclusively with YouTube or video games, and show little interest in anything else. Especially not communication.

Some will compulsively tear off device covers, grab peers' devices out of their hands, harm peers who try to protect their devices, reach into adults' pockets searching for phones, or throw and bite devices when they're put in guided access. Attempts to redirect them to their own AAC device, physical toys, art activities, or sensory play are short-lived or ineffective. They quickly return to seeking other devices.

I've seen similar behaviors before with specific toys, objects, or snacks. But those behaviors seemed easier to redirect and had more staying power once redirected.

Is anyone else seeing this in their settings? How are you addressing it with teachers and families? I understand that some teachers and parents may rely on device time because they need a break, but I'm not sure they realize how much it's affecting the child's already impacted ability to attend, communicate, and learn...and their peers' access to AAC devices and communication opportunities.

Edit: Thanks for the responses, everyone. I want to be empathetic to parents, but I also want them to wake up realize that SLPs alone can't fix this.