Myth: He did not communicate the way I understand.
Reality: I did not understand the way he communicated.

Ever since my first child K broke the myth on special education, I realized that there was something very different in the way I perceived the world and the way K looked at the world.

By repeating a simple ring stacking exercise, K gave me so much confidence to believe in many things. In spite of his huge communication difficulties and my own shallow perception of taking speech as the only means of communication we both progressed at a very different level.

Suddenly the frustration that we were not communicating vanished. I started slowing down my mind and keenly observed the interactions between me and K.

K was rocking very gently when he was relaxed. If stressed he was rocking fast. He scratched when I touch him from behind or without notice. He would look through me and spread his lips which I named as ‘smile’. He smiled when I didn’t force and respected his ‘no’.

Here the list of K’s communication:

Anger – scratch, pinch, bite, throw objects
Happy – smile, hugs & brush cheeks
Sad – cry, scratch

Needs
Snack & Water – pull hand to bag
Open bag – hand on my hand (prompting)
Toilet – move to a corner
Swing – stand near door

Refusals – push away, move away & make noises

Social skills
Hi & Bye – gentle hand shake if hand extended
Eye contact – to search for me amidst a group of people
Hide behind - to avoid people with raised voices

On one hand, I was frustrated that K is NOT communicating, on the other hand I was amazed as I jotted down the list of things he needed and the ways he used to get across his needs. I realized that all along K was indeed ONLY communicating with me for whatever he wanted. My mind was so distracted and taking his efforts to communicate as a primitive ways of expression.

The depth of our mutual understanding came to a finale when one day I asked K to walk down the road from the bus stop to his home. The mother refused to believe that we both walked for ten minutes on the road. The mom swore that never in his 6 years of life in the Middle East and in Chennai has K walked on the road. He has always been used to ac cars and would throw massive, uncontrollable tantrums if made to wait or walk.

Well, now I was more confident in telling the mom with a huge grin, “Of course, we both walked hand in hand all the way to home”!

Deepa Raghavan

Myth: Special children need to be taught so that we can help them to cope with what they don’t have.

Reality: They are special not because of WHAT they obviously don’t have, but because they HAVE what we don’t have! They are not here to learn what we know, but to train us in what we need to BELIEVE in.

Armed with a Masters in Psychology and an inspiring course on autism, I was all set to handle my first child with autism. He was 6-year-old K. I was filled with pride as I was probably one of those rare special educators who had the luxury of starting a career with a large room and only one child to handle, while within the same special school the teacher student ratio was 1:13.

Having learnt about the condition and discussed widely about the strategies, I was all the more confident to teach K with great enthusiasm. I was convinced that all I needed to do is to teach A B C … 1,2,3… a bit differently and probably a few extra repeat sessions. Alas! I was grossly mistaken from the beginning.

K never looked at me nor the colourful books I had stacked neatly on the shelves. He hardly spoke and the grunting noises he made were too difficult for me to decode. He sat on the mat and endlessly rocked leaving me to wonder if there was anything he knew in this world.

Many days passed without any significant progress. Each day for the 3 hours we were together, we followed a simple routine. He would brush my hand as to say good morning; hold hands to go for exercise; and rarely come close to my face and look through my eyes. Invariably he would do potty in his pants and having high tactile sensitivity, he would create a racket to wash and clean. He would have snacks, sit on the swing in the hot sun and make me push till its time for him to leave, which usually lasted more than an hour. I would return home bruised by his scratches and bite marks. Every night I would lie down and wonder about my role in his life. Am I a teacher, a special educator or just a care taker? Many of those questions were never answered.

A month and a half had passed. I asked my mentors, they smiled at me and said you are doing a good job. You have to evolve the strategies for K and go with the child. I was thoroughly confused. Am I supposed to teach him what I know or be taught from a non-verbal child with severe communication difficulties to evolve strategies.

Well, given the freedom and also the huge responsibility to ‘evolve’ strategies I took K head on. To this day I don’t know for sure why I used these strategies. But today I am absolutely convinced; it’s the only thing that works. I just started to talk to him like any other kid, telling him all that we saw, naming all the people we met, praising him for coming with me, scolding him for the scratch marks, praying with him when he cried uncontrollably, even imitating his rocking to see if he notices, and just swinging with him for an hour in the hot sun (as he refuses to get down unless he intends to).

I religiously took all the materials every day and worked on the activities like stacking cups, insets, puzzles, book reading, etc. Not even for a single session did K look at what I was doing and to expect him to participate in the activities was asking for the moon! When given the ring or the puzzle piece, he would take it, look at it, flap many times and throw it as far as he could. Many times I spent the session time in pulling out those pieces from underneath shelves or from the play area (our room was next to the play area).

People looked at us very curiously for he never spoke and in startling contrast, I was chatting with him non-stop. They would ask is he your brother, your son or if I were his caretaker. On one hand, I was amused at people’s immediate need to attach relationships. On the other hand, I wondered why no one asked me if I was his teacher. I had fancied and aspired to be a special educator. So I was embarrassed and angry that they didn’t see me as a qualified professional. So I would snap back with childish defence that I was indeed K’s special teacher.

Then I had this huge task of making him imitate in the exercise sessions. I saw many children with physical difficulties smiling and generously letting their aides to help them do the exercises. My dear K was so insistent on rocking and be left alone that he would scream even to get up and stand in a line. I looked at myself and longed for a miracle to happen in understanding K.

There was absolutely no indication from K that I existed in his life. As days passed I was not only depressed but was convinced that I was a failure, incapable of becoming a teacher, let alone, a special educator. I spent agonizing nights cursing my inefficiency. I was frustrated that K didn’t understand me; that he never took any initiative to communicate with me. I spoke with K also that I had no clue if I mattered in his life, if I am teaching him anything, my fears about leaving the career without success and also how miserable I felt. He never seemed to listen to all that I said. He continued to rock and swing.

That morning I still remember very clearly. Someone knocked at my door to say I had a phone call. As I didn’t have a helper I had to lock the glass door from outside and leave. I was worried, as I had never left K even for a single moment alone. I told him I’ll be back in 5 minutes and requested him not to cry or scream, though I was unsure of his comprehension. The call took more than 10 minutes and I was panicking of the consequences.

I finished the call and rushed quickly to open the door and I was stunned to see what was before me. Through the glass door I saw my cute little K sincerely and with utter ease stacking rings one after the other. Tears were flowing uncontrollably and I didn’t see any reason to wipe them. This was probably the first time ever in our 120 hours of interaction that K had initiated, sustained and completed an activity on his own. It didn’t matter that there were only 5 rings or that the activity is for 1-year-old children. K did it independently. I rushed to give him a tight hug profusely apologising for intruding his privacy, as K doesn’t like to be hugged or kissed due to hypersensitivity to touch. That simple act probably was the seed for that dejected young special educator to eventually become a Founder Director for an institution, which is dedicated for the inclusion of special children at home, school and society!

Thank you K for making me believe in myself, for telling me it doesn’t matter what you teach as much as how you teach, for instilling in me the confidence that speech is not required to communicate one’s inner feelings, for bringing to the focus of universal truth that unconditional love creates miracles, for your patience to be with me though I was not a great teacher, for shattering the myth that age and knowledge are directly proportional and many more beliefs that helped me to be where I am today.

Deepa Raghavan