Day 4

Each day is filled with new insights and experiences. I have so much to learn and understand! Many seem to forget I am a mere seventeen, no, eighteen-year-old (ah! I am still not used to not being a minor anymore!) who has not graduated from high school just yet. Did I mention how surprised the therapists were when I revealed my identity to them during our first meetings, all characterized by a conversation on my background and history? I think they all gaped at me, and all wonder how and why I chose to work at Centro "2 de abril," a detail I won't disclose to you just yet and save for my internship presentation ;D. It is only at the end of the day, as we gather our coats and belongings to leave, that they seem to remember I am the little baby. I feel so at ease with them though! They immediately embraced me as a colleague and emanate a motherly instinct to protect me. We have the most wide-ranging conversations possible, from discussing the impairments of a particular student to laughing about an imaginary boyfriend. Well, please, have some sympathy for us. If we always only stayed on heavy topics, we would end up in a mental hospital altogether. Laughing and joking is a natural defense mechanism that helps us in surmounting difficult and morose situations without hurting anybody. Laughing is an inoffensive and pleasant distraction for the mind that is very popular among the teachers at Centro “2 de abril.”

You must be wondering why I began today’s post with a brief description on my relationship with the teachers. It is because I would like to spend these minutes to expand upon my personal beliefs and the essence of communication. As I work at the institution, I am constantly facing the theme of communication, the means to express thoughts and emotions to others. In ToK terms, to share the personal knowledge and transform it into a shared knowledge. Why am I pondering on this theme? Because it is at the core of autism.

Apart from many more specifications, the main characteristics of autism can be labeled as an impairment in cognitive processes and in the layover of sensory messages to the brain as well as a difficulty in communicating. Actually, many people believe that people diagnosed with autism live in their own world, without putting much effort to connect with the world around them. I do not think it is a fair accusation and attribute. People, whether autism or not, make consistent efforts in discovering their surrounding and bonding with the people around them.

I had a shorter day today, accompanying Ta’s and Mu’s morning 1:1 sessions with Abril from 9 in the morning to noon. I really appreciate the 1:1 sessions because they direct more focus and concentration on each student, allow more specialized attention each child deserves to receive. Furthermore, the 1:1 sessions are much more organized, and I have time to process and thoroughly think about the time I spend with each child. I was able to assess Mu’s thought process as he pointed at pictograms (milk or cookies) depending on what he wanted to have next during his breakfast; his brows creased as he observed the pictograms, his smile widened when his demand coincided with his desire, a confused look and grunt escaped him when he wanted milk instead of a cookie or vice versa. Because he was not tired today, I could tell the differences between mistakes he made from inattention, mistakes he made because he ignored the right answer, and mistakes he would make on purpose. I was able to evaluate Ta’s mood from his actions. He gestures a lot, because he does not manage to speak, and it takes a whole lot of time to decrypt his gestures and facial expressions. For example, Ta often tenses his entire body and shakes his arms stiffly; however, depending on his facial expression, the action can be interpreted as happiness, frustration, or impatience. From today’s three calmer hours, I was able to reflect more deeply on the experiences I have gone through during these first few days.

I do not claim to understand autism, nor the complex nature of communication, and most certainly do not comprehend the children completely. However, I do heed to my belief that misunderstanding and shortages in communication cannot be attributed to solely one participant of the interaction. Let me illustrate this belief with the following example. Kate, Mary and Johnny are angry at each other because they have just fought. When Milly investigated the reasons behind their fight, she realized that Kate had misunderstood Johnny and had spread mistaken information to Mary. Mary, trusting Kate, was enraged and falsely accused Johnny for a thought that was attributed to him but was not really his. Of course, Johnny, who was innocent, had denied the accusation, and the whole misunderstanding bred a big fight. From an external perspective, the scenario seems quite absurd, but isn’t it something that happens quite often? If we acknowledge this for our relation with “normal” people, we must acknowledge its occurrence with us any autistic people as well. Yes, we make attempts to understand people with autism. But people with autism do make attempts to communicate to us. The problem is that they have very different ways of thinking from us, reason in their own way which is difficult to understand and interpret. People with autism notice and recognize things differently from us, see “part of the picture” instead of the whole (ha! Gestalt theory in psychology!), and it is not right to condemn them for thinking differently when their thoughts are not wrong. We don’t hold varying thoughts against one another. So, as an open question I ask: Is it fair to refer to people with autism as lacking proper means of communication when their differences arise from the different perspective they hold?

Four days are not enough to build relationships, yet I feel like I have become much closer to the boys, at least some of them. I can now predict Mu’s bursts of jealousy and sudden escapades to the kitchen from his fidgeting, and know when to pat him on the shoulder or give him my hand for him to find comfort and be soothed partially. I adopt a softer and more tentative approach when I am around Ta, who is more inclined to listen when teachers are not forceful and assertive, who occasionally shyly turns his cheek at me to ask for a kiss instead of pushing me away to adhere to my order to return to his seat. I know when to hold my distance from Si who needs his moments of solitude, when to join his manic state, when to cuddle him and play with him, when to beware for his dramatic displays acted for pathos. I foresee Fe’s tugging at my sleeve and asking for TV time, shrieking of protest and distaste, kicking at the floor; I feel when he quietly yearns for my touch, for my finger to gently stroke his nose (he loves it) and push his hair aside from his forehead. I can tell the protests of hunger, of boredom, and of sheer disobedience (sort of, more or less). I know when to brace myself for a more challenging time convincing and coaxing for work and cooperation, when to defend myself and escape from hits and shouts and cries, when to firm and toughen my demeanor and voice to (try to) appear stricter and meaner. I know when to loosen up and tickle, laugh, tease, play, and expect a happy response back. I am not saying the children are justified, but it is understandable that they result to loud and violent actions of protest. After all, the behavior was negatively reinforced, because their parents would heed to their desires in order to eliminate the undesirable stimuli of their children’s caprices (it’s a basic in classical conditioning).

In my humble opinion, the job at Centro “2 de abril,” and any rehabilitation center or educational institution actually, is to prevent accidents and breed learning that will open future opportunities. We are not trying to punish the students for things they are doing wrong. Rather, we are trying to help them alter their behavior, reward them for what they are doing right, and reinforce proper ways of behaving. The children will be much limited in the future, because their impairments affect conventional communication processes and social learning, and do stop them from developing much learning. Nonetheless, as teachers, it is our job to help them make the best out of what they have. And isn’t the first step in any teaching to understand the topic and student first?

I have not received formal education in higher-level psychology, nor have a specialization in autism. Therefore the only utility I have is in understanding the students and attempting to connect with them, develop relations, find the way to touch and open them up to me. As I struggle past the cries and shouts and open disobedience, I find occasional cooperation and calm, and eye contact and signs of affection. Maybe I’m totally wrong, because I am trying to look at things in the positive light. But at least, in my hopes and dreams, I think I am getting better and bonding with the children, and they are becoming more receptive of me. As I try to understand their way of thinking and communicating, maybe they are trying to understand further mine. After all, communication is a two-way street. If I make the effort to go one way, the children might make efforts to come up the other.