It was my last semester in college. My major, Social Work, required a semester long field placement similar to student teaching. I was placed in pediatric rehab center. They work with kids with development delays, disabilities and injuries provided Physical, Occupational and Speech therapies; as well as a reverse immersion pre-school. My job was multi-faceted and thankfully, I had a supervisor that saw my strengths and interests and allowed me to pursue unique opportunities.
Kyle was a sweet little four-year old in the pre-school program. He had bright blue eyes that only rarely connected with someone else's. He was just starting to learn sign language as a way to communicate with others. He had quite a vocabulary under his belt but his teachers wanted him to get a few strung together, to build sentences. I jumped at the chance when asked to help. I know sign language, I've taught it to autistics kids before and most importantly Kyle had stolen my heart. He would run into my office on the way to preschool instead of going to class. We had connected without any real explanation.
Weeks went past, Kyle and I struggled along. He increased his vocabulary, his time of attention to task and his following of more complex commands. He just couldn't get the sentence concept. At the end of one particularly frustrating session, Kyle signed "swing" and I agreed. Swinging was one of his favorite activities and hearing his laugh was enough to erase any frustrations at slow progress. As I pushed and he laughed, I had a break through. It was something I knew, but had not really tried. At least not with his favorite of all activities: swinging. Use play as a way to learn and their favorite activity as a built in reward. I decided to make him ask for more swinging.
I stopped pushing and the swing slowed to a stop. Kyle signed "swing".
I replied "Yes, you are on the swing, Kyle"
Kyle: signs "please:
Me: Please what Kyle?
He gave me a look. He knew that I knew what he wanted but couldn't figure out why I wouldn't give it to him. I held my breath and waited for it to sink in or for him to throw a tantrum.
Kyle: "more."
Me: More what Kyle?
I swear you could see the light bulb above his head. He smiled bright and signed "More" "Swing" "Please".
I jumped up and down and cried. And nearly forgot to give him his reward of more swinging. I pushed him for a bit and tested to see if it stuck. As soon as he stopped he signed his three word sentence again. Just in time for his teacher to come out and see it, too. She cried and laughed and celebrated with me. Kyle was learning. And the smile on his face was such a reward.
It wasn't long after that my semester was over and I had to say goodbye to Kyle. He continued to learn; made more sentences, gained more vocabulary and even started creating sign names for people. As is often the case, he probably experienced set backs, slow downs and many tantrums but he overcame a hurdle with me.
I feel incredibly blessed to have been a part of such a pivotal moment for Kyle. It may have made more of a difference to me than to him.
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Comments (10)
aww...that is awesome....made me cry
This post got to me.
This is a really amazing story.
I work as a Behavioral Interventionist with kids diagnosed with Autism so I can really relate to you! That is really touching :)
What an awesome story!
A wonderful, well-written story. And so touching. Bravo.
very nice.
That's wonderful. I hope he continues to grow.
How awesome that must have felt! :)
@Kristenmomof3@xanga - A good cry, I hope!
@edlives@xanga - On the days that don't do go so well with the kids I work with-- I remember this day. It can and does work if we don't give up.
@strappleberry_xD@xanga - @doesthisdefineme@xanga - @Murphy_Rants@xanga -@SpongeBobScaredyPants@xanga - Thank you.
@BohemianLamb@xanga It's counted as one of the best days of my life.