Baby Steps
It is such a joy to watch children grow. Every time I see my grandson, Toby, it seems like he can do even more than he could the last time I saw him. Right now, he is learning to walk, a little ahead of schedule by most people's reckoning. He practices, over and over, day after day, and slowly, almost imperceptibly, his walking skills are improving. It won't be long until he takes off--soon, he'll be able to walk anywhere he wants, unassisted.
In the almost fourteen years that I've been teaching preschool, and even before that, when I taught kindergarten and elementary school, I've been privileged to watch hundreds of children grow. Most grow normally, reaching milestones right on schedule. A few, like Toby, are driven to learn some new skills as quickly as they can. And, a few more have to work very long and very hard to reach even basic milestones. Some children, through no fault of their own, are never able to do the things that most of us take for granted.
I think of the four-year-old who may never walk even as well as Toby does now, but who tries so hard to push his walker in the direction he wants to go. I think of the kids with traumatic brain injuries who have fought every step of the way to relearn basics that they once performed flawlessly. I think of the boy whose cochlear implants enable him to hear just enough so that, with a great deal of determination, he can speak and learn almost normally.
I think of the many children with autism that I've worked with over the years. There is a saying about people with autism--"if you've met one person with autism, you've met one." Some speak very well; others, not at all. Many perform little rituals, over and over again. Most must work a long time to gain even the most basic social skills. All have some difficulty adapting to change. People with autism thrive on routine; when the routine changes, they feel great stress. Our three-year-olds with autism cry often. Our four-year-olds cry much less, and are beginning to use picture schedules and other visuals to help them get through the day. Parents and teachers alike express their frustration as they try to deal patiently with elementary-aged children with autism. It isn't easy. We keep reminding ourselves that many adults with autism are able to lead relatively normal, even independent, lives. That hope gives us the courage to keep on trying, day after day, even when progress is slow.
Preschool teachers can usually spot potential issues that may not pose a problem until children are learning to read, or until they attempt to use higher level thinking skills. I'm concerned when I think of those children who seem to have "learning disability" imprinted on their foreheads, because I know that the road ahead will not be easy for them.
I empathize, and sometimes agonize, with the parents of "special" children. Some parents learn to take each day as it comes, rejoicing in each baby step, urging their children to do their best to accomplish everything they can. Some parents face seemingly insurmountable challenges that most of us can barely imagine. Even the best parents have times when they are grasping for a little hope and a lot of patience.
Not so many years ago, we never saw any children with disabilities in our schools. Many were institutionalized before they reached school age, while others were sent to specialized schools for the deaf or mentally handicapped. In recent years, things have changed--for the better, I think. Now, all children must have the opportunity to learn in the least restrictive environment possible. Public schools must include all children in regular classrooms as much as possible. That's why my preschool classes always include some children with so-called "special" needs. That's why all of my students are learning to accept one another and get along with everyone, regardless of ability or disability.
Even "normal" children have a variety of abilities, as well as areas where they may struggle, at least for a while. Children all learn and grow at their own rates. Some, like Toby, may learn to walk very early. But even high achievers usually have at least one area where they are slower than their peers. While most babies Toby's age are beginning to crawl, Toby shows little interest in conventional crawling. He scoots across a room very quickly in his version of a soldier crawl, but he is working so hard to learn to walk that he may bypass traditional crawling altogether. That's okay. God made each of us to be unique people, with unique abilities and disabilities. Life would be rather boring if all of us were exactly alike.
Not too long ago, one of my former students, who has autism, stopped in my new classroom for a few minutes. It had been a couple of years since we had seen each other face-to-face. After he looked around, checking to see if he could find anything familiar in the room, he walked over to me and gave me a hug. I was floored! Kids with autism rarely initiate hugs with anyone; even with close family members, they may give hugs only when prompted. It's times like this when I realize just how privileged I am to be able to work with kids of all abilities and disabilities. Even preschool baby steps lead to greater growth than we can imagine.
In the almost fourteen years that I've been teaching preschool, and even before that, when I taught kindergarten and elementary school, I've been privileged to watch hundreds of children grow. Most grow normally, reaching milestones right on schedule. A few, like Toby, are driven to learn some new skills as quickly as they can. And, a few more have to work very long and very hard to reach even basic milestones. Some children, through no fault of their own, are never able to do the things that most of us take for granted.
I think of the four-year-old who may never walk even as well as Toby does now, but who tries so hard to push his walker in the direction he wants to go. I think of the kids with traumatic brain injuries who have fought every step of the way to relearn basics that they once performed flawlessly. I think of the boy whose cochlear implants enable him to hear just enough so that, with a great deal of determination, he can speak and learn almost normally.
I think of the many children with autism that I've worked with over the years. There is a saying about people with autism--"if you've met one person with autism, you've met one." Some speak very well; others, not at all. Many perform little rituals, over and over again. Most must work a long time to gain even the most basic social skills. All have some difficulty adapting to change. People with autism thrive on routine; when the routine changes, they feel great stress. Our three-year-olds with autism cry often. Our four-year-olds cry much less, and are beginning to use picture schedules and other visuals to help them get through the day. Parents and teachers alike express their frustration as they try to deal patiently with elementary-aged children with autism. It isn't easy. We keep reminding ourselves that many adults with autism are able to lead relatively normal, even independent, lives. That hope gives us the courage to keep on trying, day after day, even when progress is slow.
Preschool teachers can usually spot potential issues that may not pose a problem until children are learning to read, or until they attempt to use higher level thinking skills. I'm concerned when I think of those children who seem to have "learning disability" imprinted on their foreheads, because I know that the road ahead will not be easy for them.
I empathize, and sometimes agonize, with the parents of "special" children. Some parents learn to take each day as it comes, rejoicing in each baby step, urging their children to do their best to accomplish everything they can. Some parents face seemingly insurmountable challenges that most of us can barely imagine. Even the best parents have times when they are grasping for a little hope and a lot of patience.
Not so many years ago, we never saw any children with disabilities in our schools. Many were institutionalized before they reached school age, while others were sent to specialized schools for the deaf or mentally handicapped. In recent years, things have changed--for the better, I think. Now, all children must have the opportunity to learn in the least restrictive environment possible. Public schools must include all children in regular classrooms as much as possible. That's why my preschool classes always include some children with so-called "special" needs. That's why all of my students are learning to accept one another and get along with everyone, regardless of ability or disability.
Even "normal" children have a variety of abilities, as well as areas where they may struggle, at least for a while. Children all learn and grow at their own rates. Some, like Toby, may learn to walk very early. But even high achievers usually have at least one area where they are slower than their peers. While most babies Toby's age are beginning to crawl, Toby shows little interest in conventional crawling. He scoots across a room very quickly in his version of a soldier crawl, but he is working so hard to learn to walk that he may bypass traditional crawling altogether. That's okay. God made each of us to be unique people, with unique abilities and disabilities. Life would be rather boring if all of us were exactly alike.
Not too long ago, one of my former students, who has autism, stopped in my new classroom for a few minutes. It had been a couple of years since we had seen each other face-to-face. After he looked around, checking to see if he could find anything familiar in the room, he walked over to me and gave me a hug. I was floored! Kids with autism rarely initiate hugs with anyone; even with close family members, they may give hugs only when prompted. It's times like this when I realize just how privileged I am to be able to work with kids of all abilities and disabilities. Even preschool baby steps lead to greater growth than we can imagine.
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