Dear ESE Teacher,
Each day he brings her a sealed cup of apple juice, three Jolly Ranchers (assorted colors), and apple slices in a Ziplock bag. Prior to Corona, he brought her an apple a day. Perhaps he heard it kept the doctor away, and maybe it's working because she hasn't been sick a day since school started.
Could it be that the elusive cure for COVID is found in the waxy skin of the forbidden fruit? Wouldn't that be wild if the cure was under our noses the whole time, and we couldn't see it because it came disguised in simplicity?
I am not suggesting the issue of a deadly virus is not a complex one, but I am implying this young man with high functioning Autism and a sack of apples is doing more to help his teacher than four inches of gingham fabric draped across her smile ever could.
Speaking of smiles, she hasn't seen his once this year. He is, likewise, wearing a mask, but what is not covered, and could never be hidden, is his award-winning dimple and squinty eyes that let her know he is, indeed, happy and smiling through all the barriers that prevent him from doing so. She also senses his joy through his cadenced speech that is always literal and direct.
On the first day of school she asked him if he enjoyed his extended spring break turned summer. He replied, "To be honest, I am glad to be back. I've really missed this place," which translated from Asperger's means, "he's glad to be back and has really missed this place."
To her, it also means, even with a disability that frequently prevents him from making social connections, he has made one with her, his classmates, and his school.
It's the same connection her ESE colleague made at a neighboring elementary school with a nearly nonverbal six year old boy with Down's Syndrome and Autism. Even with physical, sexual, and emotional trauma he is not impervious to the language of love. Beyond his teachers, his grandmother loves him. For two years, she fought to pry him from the clutch of the foster care system when his parents were incarcerated.
At school, his grandmother wants him to be in a caring environment with people who love him. She also wants some strong routines and prayerfully, a little toilet training. His teachers try, but they are mostly met with vehement "no's" when he is prompted to perform a task. However, around the third week of school a marked improvement began to occur. They noticed he loved to dance, so they "Turned Up the Jam." Then came the smile, the most disarming smile you've ever seen, some might even say award winning, and everyone knows a genuine smile from a kid can make any teacher weak in the knees.
Last week he missed school for a court hearing.
Without his energy in the room, the clock hands turned a little slower.
The following day, he burst out of his blue, Graco carseat like he was being shot out of a cannon. There was a hush that fell over the room as he began to distribute a high five and smile to young and old alike.
And then...as if by pure magic, he shouted...the clearest and happiest “hey guys!!!” that has ever been shouted and followed it with a scoot to the front of the room to unpack his backpack in a flurry.
Her heart soared- far, far above the clouds of astonishment. This was a new level of amazement, one that could not be articulated in words. It was the kind of speechlessness that helped her understand, a little more clearly, his inability to put voice to emotions.
It was all spelled out in his "hey guys."
He missed his teachers and his classmates.
He knew where to put his Spiderman backpack.
He used words, actual words, to express a sincere greeting.
He was happy to have a home.
What led to the transformation? The answer is as elusive as the cure for COVID. Who knows? Maybe he started eating an apple a day.
Or maybe, just maybe, the change happened when the foundation of love he was receiving from his grandmother collided with the care of his school people, school people who say things like...."What a privilege to have the opportunity to be a blessing to a kiddo and witness the growth he is achieving. Each day I wake up, pinch myself, and think, 'Is this really my job'?"
-CDB