How We Do It: Visual Schedules

yellow clipboard with velcro picture symbols showing a student's day (circle time, art, tech, eat)

I tend to write about the philosophy behind my teaching and the culture more than the practical. This is because nothing else matters until our classroom cultures shift. Visual schedules are a fantastic example of what I mean.

There are plenty of people who use visual schedules as a compliance system. This is on your schedule. You must do this. Or they use visual schedules because someone once said they should, but they sort of just sit around and have little meaning for the students using them. If that’s how they are being used, then it’s not a student accommodation. It’s a teacher tool.

We use visual schedules to increase predictability, visual supports for conversation about our day, and to assist students to know where they are going and when they are going there. They are a support system. I understand this deeply because I need a schedule.

How do we do this?

yellow folder on top of a yellow clipboard

We design the schedule to be easily accessed.

I often see schedules on walls. I’ve made this mistake in the past. But it’s not very useful on a wall if you’re in the cafeteria, on the playground, or even on the other side of the room. Asking a student to leave a preferred activity to go across the room to check their schedule to come back across the room seems like a lot of response effort for a time that may already be challenging. Transitioning, shifting attention, and now moving too? We keep our schedules on our clipboards. The front has a folder for data, notes, or individual student items. The back is the schedule. We also bring the schedule to our students. Older students could carry their schedules with them by placing them in their binders or backpacks.

We design the schedule for understanding.

We currently use primarily picture symbols, but not only picture symbols. We have used songs, objects, photographs, and written text, all dependent on the child’s needs. We’ve also mixed them all up — maybe a student uses a picture schedule for all of their work activities, but uses a spoon to transition to meal time. We currently don’t use times on our schedule as we are in preschool but I’ve used them with older students. It’s not about the tool. It’s about matching the tool to the student needs. Ask your students: will this lead to more or less understanding? More or less frustration? If they cannot tell you with speech, watch their nonverbal language. We always want to decrease frustration.

We use visual systems to support their use for transitions.

image of a filing cabinet with an "art" picture attached to the side, with 8 velcro dots below

One thing that has invariably helps my students when learning routines and schedules is to have a match in another location. They don’t just have a random picture of a table that means “work time”. There is a matching picture on the actual work time table as well. If we’re using a space that serves multiple purposes, that picture is attached by velcro. I don’t like spaces to have multiple visible pictures showing; it gets confusing. We know what the schedule says because we can read text. If our students are not yet able to read, how do we make sure they understand? This matching system helps so much.

We refer to the schedule throughout the day.

The schedule is not just a decoration or a transition cue. It’s something we talk about throughout the day. We talk about changes to the schedule in our morning meetings. When students go to their backpacks during the day, we show them their schedule to help them know when we go home. If a student asks for a snack or iPad or some other item that we cannot access right now, we use the schedule to tell them when they can have it.

We don’t care about compliance.

Repeat after me: the schedule is not about compliance. It is about understanding. Not compliance. Not compliance. It has to be said so many times. One of our assistants is brilliant at being about cooperation instead of compliance, especially with schedules. When a student puts a picture schedule piece in the wrong place or on the floor, she says, “That’s one place you could try. But let me show you where I would put it.” If a student just won’t take their picture symbol to transition, then we say, “Oh I’d love to help you. Let me show you where we are going.” If a student needs to finish their current activity, because they’re mid-alphabet, we let them finish their current activity. If a student runs across the room to the next activity, ignoring their schedule, that’s fine. If they are already sitting and waiting at the table, that’s fine too. Because it’s not about “checking the schedule”. It’s about feeling safe, knowing what’s happening in your day, and having a way to help you get from place to place. That’s why we use them. That’s why we adapt them. That’s why they work.

The right to NOT talk.

image of an iPad screen with a grid of icons for voice output. the message bar reads: "I don't want to! Grumpy"We all have times where talking is not happening. We ignore questions. We don’t answer the phone. We flat out tell others that we don’t want to talk. Some of us have times where we simply cannot talk; I’ve had many conversations with my husband via text message. At other times, we may want to talk — just not about the subject at hand. Our partner may ask if we want hamburgers or grilled cheese for dinner, but we answer with complaints about something that happened earlier during work.

Yet, this is forgotten or completely thrown out the window when it comes to the students that we serve (and children, generally, in our compliance-driven society).

We ask students what they want (often within limits). If they begin talking about something else, then we take it as proof that they weren’t listening, that they don’t understand, or that they don’t have the ability to answer. They talk about Diego, because it’s their all-time favorite, and we say they “perseverate” or “only know one word”. They don’t use their talker on demand, and it’s written off as “inappropriate” or “not being used” or “they don’t know how to do it” or “too much”.

We need to ask ourselves: what is our goal? Is our goal for students to say what we want when they want? Or is our goal for student’s to have a voice? Because a voice means they get to say what they want when they want.

A voice means being able to talk about your passions, whether they are Diego or the alphabet or worms. A voice means being able to change the topic, interrupt, or ask for something that wasn’t on the menu.

A voice also means being able to NOT talk.

It means that I don’t have to answer your questions  — not when you want me to, and maybe not at all.

It means that I can go hours without talking, or days, or whatever, because it’s my voice and I can use it when and how I want it. I can be silent, and I won’t have people then try to take my voice away.

Autonomy isn’t autonomy if it’s only allowed at the convenience of adults and professionals in students’ lives. A voice isn’t a voice unless we grant the full range of freedom — freedom to use, but freedom to not use as well.

Silence is okay.

Silence doesn’t mean “doesn’t know”.

Silence doesn’t mean “doesn’t need”.

Silence certainly doesn’t mean “take my voice from me”.

Silence is just that — silence. And everyone has the right to it.

Me & My Headphones, or why we don’t need to outgrow accommodations.

image of smiling white woman with short dark pink hair, wearing cat ears and over the ear headphones
I went to my first convention of superfans this past week, and it was the BookCon with its 20,000 attendees. That’s a lot of people. Without anything else, that’s a lot. A lot of conversations, a lot of noise, a lot of unwritten social rules, a lot of social navigation.

It could have been a disaster for me, especially on that first day. I didn’t know where anything was. I didn’t know where I should be. I only knew that there were a whole lot of lines, sometimes with clear signs and sometimes not. Lights, sounds, smells, all of it. I would say “I almost ran away from it all” except it’s not almost. I did. I sat in a corner far from the show to eat my lunch in silence. Later, I totally quit the show floor and spend the afternoon listening to panels (a much more sensory-friendly experience for my body). There was lots of running away. There could have been more. I was always able to come back. I was able to find something that meant a lot to me. I was able to have a day that was beautiful and fun and memorable, despite any near breakdowns.

It’s because of accommodations.

I didn’t use any accommodations from BookCon… The one downside to the Con is that there really aren’t very many available accommodations. I created my own. Or, in some cases, my husband thought ahead and created them for me. He packed my headphones. I downloaded audiobooks and music that help me stay centered and calm. Oh, those headphones. They were everything. I could drown out the noise that was making my skin crawl. I could distract myself from the anxiety of losing personal space by listening to a favorite chapter in a favorite audiobook on repeat. I fiddled with wires as if they are a fidget toy. They kept people from talking to me when I was not in a place to chat. Those headphones were everything. It wasn’t all I used, but it was the biggest help. I took breaks! I found quiet spaces with no one around. I found the spaces with dim or natural lighting. I stepped out of line when I needed to. I came late or left early from panels, drop lines, autograph signing.

I share this list, these few examples of a much longer list, to say — I am nearing 34, and I make these adaptations to meet my needs. I was able to have this dream weekend, filled with my number one love, because I don’t feel shame about needing what I need. Yet, all too often, we treat accommodations as if they are something to outgrow. We celebrate when students no longer need chewies, when they don’t wear their headphones anymore, or when they decide to hand write rather than use speech-to-text dictation.

We are celebrating the wrong thing.

It doesn’t matter if someone needs to wear a chew necklace. It doesn’t matter if they need to sit at the table with their shoes off. It doesn’t matter if they need to wear a pressure vest or have a weighted blanket or use a rocking chair or wear headphones. It just doesn’t matter.

It matters if someone is living the life that they want to live. It matters if someone has autonomy. Can they do the things they most want to do? What can they access? What dreams can they pursue? What learning is able to happen? What environments are now available to them? What brilliance and beauty and talents are now able to be shared with the world?

This is what we celebrate. The celebration is not whether I was able to do the second dayimage of white woman with short dark pink hair against a rainbow book backdrop. she has white earbuds slung over her shoulder.
of BookCon with less headphone time… The celebration is this: I was able to access this event that meant so, so much to me. The celebration is not whether someone uses speech or a communication device or sign to convey their message. The celebration is that this person’s voice is now able to be heard in the world.

Accommodations don’t need to be outgrown, though they certainly may morph as people’s needs change. They may even morph from one day to the next. We need to focus our attention on the right things: helping our students have lives that they design and love. Accommodations and assistive technology are not things that leave us bound. They are things that help us fly.

 

On a final note, I was able to create my own accommodations this weekend, but that’s not the case for everyone. Some accommodations really need to be created and provided by the venue, whether it’s through universal design or access to specific needs. Most venues, restaurants, stores, even community parks need to do better. One of the ways that we can make that happen is to acknowledge that these needs exist. They are not signs of weakness or “less”, but valid needs.