Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:It’s not rocket science, but it is a classroom, not a circus. There’s no excuse for children to be talking while a teacher is lecturing or students are to be completing work quietly. The teacher should not allow best friends to be talking if that means another child has to get an accommodation to avoid them. That’s insane. The classroom door can also be closed, and people in the hallway should be as quiet as possible knowing that classes are in session.

Since we can’t physically put tape over their mouths, and often times they won’t stop talking because of ADHD or they’re rude or disrespectful, how do you suggest we get them to stop talking?

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:Don't sit the class clown next to a quiet kid "as a punishment" - that child is not a punishment.
Don't make one kid the regular partner for a disruptive or incapable student - everyone should have to take a turn.
Don't punish the class for individual behavior.
Don't let one kid scream at or mistreat another in the name of "they have to learn to work together." No adult would have to tolerate that from a peer.

What you describe are know as “equity practices”

No it isn’t. It is behavior management. Now for political purposes you would LOVE to call them equity practices, but you would be incorrect.

Anonymous wrote:It’s not rocket science, but it is a classroom, not a circus. There’s no excuse for children to be talking while a teacher is lecturing or students are to be completing work quietly. The teacher should not allow best friends to be talking if that means another child has to get an accommodation to avoid them. That’s insane. The classroom door can also be closed, and people in the hallway should be as quiet as possible knowing that classes are in session.

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:It sounds like you are saying: protect the class from the disruptive students.

Unfortunately we have very few tools to do that now. Parents don’t care if you call home, the administration tells us to stop sending kids to the office, and everyone gets promoted to the next grade no matter what. So unless the kid brings a weapon to school or something, nobody will give them any consequences.

I'm not asking you to protect the class from difficult students, I'm asking you not to use the other students as a shield between you and the difficult ones. You are the adult and a trained professional: don't dump this on the kids.

The disruptive kid can sit by himself. He can be partnered with someone different each day, or you can design your class so no one is partnered. He can lose, by himself, whatever privileges you were going to take from the whole class in your frustration. And you can fairly grade the kids who are trying, instead of retreating to group projects to avoid the issue.

Believe me, I understand your frustrations. I am the parent of a quiet little boy who shuts down when the room is too chaotic. He hates school.

But I have 34 students in my classroom designed for 25. We literally cannot move. There is no room to sit by themselves, or break apart groups of desks. They have to be grouped, because singleton desks take up so much more space and I literally do not have it.

I change seats every 6 weeks. That's the best I can do. I don't have time to make a new seating chart every single day. It takes me at least 30 minutes per class to accommodate every IEP and 504, figure out social drama of who will not be able to work with who, separate besties who will just get off task, etc. It isn't as though there is one chaotic child and 33 perfect angels. It's the old brain teaser with the fox and the rabbit and the lettuce crossing the river, and it feels like no matter what you do you mess it up and someone suffers.

Anonymous wrote:My kids were always seated next to difficult kids. They got so tired of being used as a babysitter.

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:It isn’t one kid. These days it’s 1/4 of the class or more.

This is the problem. In my 5th period gen ed class of 30 high school students, I have 11 504s for adhd. All of them have the accommodation of "preferential seating near the point of instruction, away from distractions". I'd love for you to make my seating chart.

This. I had a class last year in which 1/3rd of my students had preferential seating away from distractions. It’s physically not possible.

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:Don't sit the class clown next to a quiet kid "as a punishment" - that child is not a punishment.
Don't make one kid the regular partner for a disruptive or incapable student - everyone should have to take a turn.
Don't punish the class for individual behavior.
Don't let one kid scream at or mistreat another in the name of "they have to learn to work together." No adult would have to tolerate that from a peer.

What you describe are know as “equity practices”

Anonymous wrote:Don't sit the class clown next to a quiet kid "as a punishment" - that child is not a punishment.
Don't make one kid the regular partner for a disruptive or incapable student - everyone should have to take a turn.
Don't punish the class for individual behavior.
Don't let one kid scream at or mistreat another in the name of "they have to learn to work together." No adult would have to tolerate that from a peer.

Anonymous wrote:So basically no neurotypical child ever gets “preferential” seating or partners?

Lovely.

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:My calm kid is always used as the therapy dog in classrooms. She hates it and we're leaving the school system.

Exactly. The reality is that, rightly or wrongly, families like ours — relatively well-resourced, with neurotypical and generally well-behaved kids — often end up being treated as resources for the system. Our children are positioned as stabilizing forces, expected to offset or buffer some of the more challenging dynamics in the classroom. And again, I’m not blaming anyone. I understand that in certain micro-level cases, this might even be the best solution for the group as a whole.

But over time, this becomes a structural feature of the system — not an occasional workaround. And what that means in practice is that the needs of the well-regulated kid, the quiet kid, the academically solid kid, get sidelined. Not maliciously, but inevitably, because there are legal, administrative, and behavioral imperatives that must be prioritized. And once you understand that dynamic, the incentive becomes clear: if you can exit to an environment where most of the families are in that same narrow band — reasonably stable home life, no major learning or behavioral hurdles — the educational experience becomes far more right-sized for your child.

That doesn’t mean it’s impossible to find in public school. But let’s be honest: the systemic incentive structure just doesn’t make that easy. So yeah, for many of us, the exit is not about elitism or snobbery — it’s just a rational response to an environment where our kids’ needs will always come second. And sometimes, third.

+1. This is a big reason why we put our quiet well behaved daughters in private school.

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:My calm kid is always used as the therapy dog in classrooms. She hates it and we're leaving the school system.

Exactly. The reality is that, rightly or wrongly, families like ours — relatively well-resourced, with neurotypical and generally well-behaved kids — often end up being treated as resources for the system. Our children are positioned as stabilizing forces, expected to offset or buffer some of the more challenging dynamics in the classroom. And again, I’m not blaming anyone. I understand that in certain micro-level cases, this might even be the best solution for the group as a whole.

But over time, this becomes a structural feature of the system — not an occasional workaround. And what that means in practice is that the needs of the well-regulated kid, the quiet kid, the academically solid kid, get sidelined. Not maliciously, but inevitably, because there are legal, administrative, and behavioral imperatives that must be prioritized. And once you understand that dynamic, the incentive becomes clear: if you can exit to an environment where most of the families are in that same narrow band — reasonably stable home life, no major learning or behavioral hurdles — the educational experience becomes far more right-sized for your child.

That doesn’t mean it’s impossible to find in public school. But let’s be honest: the systemic incentive structure just doesn’t make that easy. So yeah, for many of us, the exit is not about elitism or snobbery — it’s just a rational response to an environment where our kids’ needs will always come second. And sometimes, third.

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:It isn’t one kid. These days it’s 1/4 of the class or more.

This is the problem. In my 5th period gen ed class of 30 high school students, I have 11 504s for adhd. All of them have the accommodation of "preferential seating near the point of instruction, away from distractions". I'd love for you to make my seating chart.

Exactly. And this is precisely why we ended up pulling one of our kids out of a highly rated charter school (HRCS). It really felt like a full third of the class had an IEP, 504, or some other accommodation that needed to be navigated daily. We’re not begrudging the children or their families — every child is who they are, in all their beautiful and complex dimensions — but the cumulative weight of trying to meet so many competing needs in one classroom was undeniable.

For our child, who I guess you’d call neurotypical, it felt like he was never really the focus of instruction or support. Not in a resentful way — he was often amused by the “excitement” in class — but the overall environment was unfocused and not conducive to learning. It just didn’t work. And while it’s great in theory to have inclusive classrooms where all students learn to engage with difference, in practice it created a setting that simply didn’t meet our child’s needs.

We moved him to a private parochial school. It’s not high-SES by any means, but the classrooms feel… normal. Not perfect. Just normal. There’s not the same sense that the teacher is constantly trying to juggle a dozen different individual education plans while still trying to teach a coherent lesson. And yes, the school is upfront that it cannot accommodate many special needs — which sadly, or perhaps realistically, makes a big difference in the classroom dynamic.

Our son might say it’s a little less exciting, but even he recognizes that it’s a much better learning environment. And we’re relieved.

The answer to any public school issue on DCUM is always a religious school. Except no one highlights Jewish schools or Muslim schools. It is always private Christian/Catholic schools. And no one ever mentions the sexual abuse scandals when they post their praises for these schools.

Another way, Project 2025 is infiltrating. Crosses UNITE!

And Wiccan schools get no love too.