As a communications major, I was intrigued with my nonverbal students and their ability to convey pleasures, needs, and wants without words. Four of our ten students were nonverbal. Deena was a thin girl with a constant whine. She would continuously slap herself in the face on her “unhappy days” unless she was physically restrained by an arm brace that would not allow her to bend her elbow. On her “happy days,” she would walk around the room, patting her classmates on the arm and laughing. Unfortunately, her “unhappy days” outnumbered her “happy days” five to one. When she needed to be toileted, she had a specific cry that was recognized by Joan. My constant prayer was that Joan would never be absent!
Kathy was usually very happy and showed little interest in anything other than watching the other students. She did love music and would clap her chubby hands during our music time. There was one song in particular that she loved. Joan and I would sing it to her every day and she would laugh whenever we sang the last phrase ending with the words, “fly, fly. fly!” Imagine our surprise one day when Kathy, sitting quietly after getting her teeth brushed and attempting to wash her own face with a wet washcloth, suddenly burst out singing, “fly, fly, fly!” At that moment, I felt anything was possible.
I often entertained myself with the thought that maybe these kids were really normal, but just acted as if they weren’t for the “fun” of it. They sure received a lot of attention. But, I was having a great time being the school caregiver and knowing that I was there for an entire school year empowered me to give even more of myself to my students.
Patrick was the most severely handicapped of our ten students when it came to IQ level. He could do absolutely nothing for himself except assist in pulling up his trousers after toileting. I was amazed at how affectionate he could be when 99% of the time he seemed totally unaware of the people around him. Only occasionally would he initiate contact with other people. In all the time I was with Patrick, he made eye contact with me less than five times.
Rich was probably the most intriguing of my nonverbal students. When he was frustrated, he would bite the side of his hand angrily. After he finished off my bulletin board, I decided not to replace it. So, instead, Rich would tear off pieces of our calendar to savor. All paper on my desk was vulnerable to his impulses. In addition to eating any paper he could find, he started peeing in the corner of the room. I found this intolerable and set up a system of consequences—usually sitting in a chair with a staff person beside him for 5-10 minutes. He would randomly complete a workshop task, but violently resisted our attempts to teach him self-care skills. As the weeks progressed, I saw Rich change into an angry, angry person. The hand biting happened more often. Peeing in the corner became a common occurrence. Then he started running out of the room, out of the school to the nearest car and gas cap. I was usually the one that ran after him. Bringing him back into the school, I always noticed he had a smirk on his face.
“I know you’re in there Rich,” I would say softly, “what can I do to help you?” He would make eye contact, smirk again, and then bite his hand. Upon entering the room, he would run to his chair and sit down.
Since I had been informed that I would be staying for the entire school year, I was toying with the thought of doing home visits. And on this day, I decided the first home I should visit was the home of Rich.
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