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January 2025
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La Familia del Rio4/24/2016  I’m looking at a picture of a little girl in Peru. I keep it on my desk and glance at it often. Her name is Maria and we met her alongside a river.
It was February 2010. Our nephew, Paul, was driving us on the highway into San Ramon, our Peruvian “home town.” Parallel to the highway is el Rio Tarma, the Tarma River, deep, with rapidly flowing water. We saw two tiny barefoot children, arms outstretched in begging, standing next to the highway. We pulled over, got out of the car, and walked to them. “Donde esta tu mama?” I asked the little girl. “Where’s your mommy?” She pointed to the river. In the distance we saw a blue tarp. We walked with the children along the rocky riverbank and found their mother, their grandmother, and a dog near the tarp. A man was standing behind it and the mother was holding a baby. We talked a little, learned that Maria was five years old and her brother was two. “Do you have enough food,” Francisco asked, and the grandmother replied, “Sometimes.” We returned the following day with groceries and a little cash. Francisco’s sister went back a few days later but the family was gone. The next year, we tried to find them. Our nephew had obtained an address where someone had told him they were living. We went there but no one answered the door. He later heard that they were staying with relatives in Tarma, about an hour’s drive away. So I think often of Maria, a little girl begging by a river. She’d be eleven now. Where are you, Maria? I wonder. Do you have shelter? Do you have food? Are you warm? Are you safe? Do you go to school? Will I see you again? Would I know you? I can only pray for you – and hope.
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Some Things My Students with Autism Have Taught Me (part 2)
6. Changes in the sensory environment can be calming. An anxious child might relax when given a weighted vest, bounced on a therapy ball, or pushed on a swing. She might calm with soft lights, quiet music, and positive, supportive words. 7. “If you don’t learn the way I teach, I’ll teach the way you learn.” Dr. Dave Adamson taught me this at the University of Utah many years ago. And my students proved it true. 8. Parents of children with “invisible” disabilities are to be respected, not judged. That child having a meltdown in the grocery store might be overwhelmed by fluorescent lights, the sound of grocery carts, the presence of so many items. His schedule might have changed or the fruit section might have been moved from where it was last week. His mother might dread buying groceries because she knows she’ll hear comments such as, “If he were my child, I’d . . .” 9. People with autism have many gifts. They might focus totally on their interests and make discoveries that could change the world. They might not have the ability to tell a lie. They might love unconditionally. 10. It’s always better to be patient, kind, and loving. The louder you are, the quieter I will be. Thank you, students. You are the teachers. Gracias, estudiantes. Uds. son los profesores.
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Algunas Cosas que Mis Estudiantes con Autismo Me Ensenaron
April is Autism Awareness/Acceptance Month and I’m thinking of wonderful children whom I’ve had the privilege of teaching. I’m thinking also of children in Peru, at San Manuelito and Senor de los Milagros, and the fact that many children with special needs in Peru are not even enrolled in school. When I think about autism, I think about specific children, about (not their real names) Joey, who sang Disney songs in the most beautiful voice; I could have listened to him forever. And Marcia, who had huge tantrums, kicking and screaming on the floor, until she received a communication device and learned to quietly express whatever she needed to say. And Ronnie, who could read anything but didn’t understand what the words meant. Yet he did understand electronics. And Steven, who could tell you whatever you’d want to know about fish. And Jenny, who only wanted to have a friend. I always felt that my students taught me how to teach them, that I was the student and they were the teachers. Here are a few more things that they taught me: 1. We’re all unique, especially perhaps those with learning differences. People with autism perceive the world differently than those of us who are neurotypical. They experience differences primarily in social interaction, communication, and behavior. But within those areas, and all the many other ways of being human, we’re each unique. All people deserve to be loved, accepted, and respected, just as they are. Only then can we help each other move to whoever we might become. 2. We don’t need words to think. We might think in pictures instead. 3. There are many ways of communicating. Talking is one. So are pictures, communication devices, sign language, and writing. And behavior. A child who can't talk might act out due to frustration. As we develop functional communication systems for children,we often see amazing changes in their behavior. It's important to listen to the words a child cannot speak. 4. Little things can be the most important. A key. A marble. Bubbles floating in the breeze. A song. A piece of string. And colors are beautiful, especially favorite colors. So sometimes are things that flash and spin. And likewise sometimes not. 5. Eye contact can be painful. It might not be possible to look at someone and talk at the same time. (to be continued)
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Firsts4/3/2016  I’ve been looking at pictures of our trips to Peru and thinking about children we’ve met. I’m going to tell you today about a little boy and his mother.
One of the most fun things we do is take leg braces donated by parents and children at the Kauri Sue Hamilton School for children with severe disabilities in Riverton, Utah. We’ve done this for several years now and one of our greatest joys is seeing children walk for the first time. After receiving their braces, the children need new shoes to fit over them. So we get to take them shopping. One time we took a young mother and her four-year-old son, who has spina bifida. While we were looking at shoes for the little boy, the mother walked over to the adult section of the store. She picked up a pair of tennis shoes and just looked at them. Francisco stepped over and asked her, “Would you like some new shoes?” Like many people in the jungle, she was wearing flip-flops. “Can I?” she asked. “Can I really?” Francisco replied, “Sure you can.” “I’ve never had new shoes before,” she said. She was probably in her early twenties. Tears came to her eyes, then to Francisco’s, then to mine. She walked out of the store with a new pair of shoes and we walked out with a deepening sense of gratitude, a growing sense of mission. The people we meet in Peru give us so much more than we could ever give to them. Muchas gracias, mamacita. Muchas gracias, los ninos de Kauri Sue. Muchas gracias, amigos. |
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