I wrote the following diary entry my third week into the school term with my first autistic student.
The frustration I experienced upon my initial encounter with an autistic child is still very real today. At the time, (in the early 1980’s) my student was not identified as autistic. I was trying to teach with her with seven other "mildly to moderately mentally challenged" students.
Although I had taught special education for eight years and had earned a Master's Degree in the field, I knew this child was like none other I'd ever encountered. She was not mentally challenged in the same way the others were. There was something compelling about her. She was beautiful, but impossible.
We lived in a small town and no one seemed to have any answers as to how I should teach her. I begged every professional who came near my classroom to PLEASE help me. I was desperate. I was disillusioned. I was ready to QUIT. My husband was becoming less and less tolerant of my coming home crying every afternoon. Nothing anyone suggested worked. Eventually all the professionals began avoiding my room. Sabotage! What next?
This is what I wrote about a little four year old girl that discouraging September day:
Jenny is a child with severely negative, inappropriate behavior in the classroom. She is very strong-willed and stubborn. So far, I have found no form of reward or discipline to modify her behavior.
Positive reinforcement works only for the moment at hand. It only works if Jenny feels so inclined to allow me the satisfaction of choosing the task while she complies. Most of the time it has to be her idea to do something and on her terms, if it is to be done without conflict.
She seems to thrive on conflict and negative attention. Although she is non-verbal, she makes certain that everybody knows she is a force not to be taken lightly. Surprisingly, there are days when she is more compliant than others. On those days she initiates short periods of "affection." She hugs my legs or puts my arms around her!
Also, she will perform certain tasks receiving only mild rewards, such as M&M's. She is, however, much more likely to perform (build 8 block towers, string beads, etc.) if she thinks I am not watching. It's as if she never wants to do anything in her life if it is at the suggestion of someone else.
Jenny is very hyperactive rarely remaining seated for longer than 5-10 seconds. She is beginning to make fleeting eye contact even though she seems to have a serious aversion to looking at people.
She has self-stimulatory behaviors like turning round and round on the floor with her eyes closed, making noises, and keeping her body in constant motion. She pulls away from any show of affection unless it is initiated by her.
There are days when I seem to be making some progress. However, just when I think I have taken a giant step forward, the next day I discover I am back to "square one."
Many days Jenny is literally "bouncing off all four walls." The entire class is kept in an uproar while she races from one side of the room to the other. She will not stay in a time-out chair without an adult staying right beside her and forcibly holding her.
I often feel she is getting the attention she seems to crave, even if it is negative. Time-out becomes, in her view, a "not so unpleasant place to be." She really doesn't care about missing out on activities the other children are participating in because she shows no desire to play or participate anyway. She is always "doing her own thing" and always by herself.
I see her watching me out of the corner of her eye to see if I am observing her misbehavior. Ignoring her does not work because she continues doing one thing after another, each action a little worse than the one before it. If ignored she gets louder and louder so class cannot continue. She knows I will eventually be forced to get up from what I am doing and bodily remove her from whatever it is she should not be doing.
All in all, Jenny appears to be a very seriously disturbed little girl, compelled to exert extreme control over her life and her environment. Any interruption that conflicts with her direction or will, results in intense resistance in the form of shouting, pushing, throwing, pinching, turning her back to you, screaming, crying, scratching, kicking and absolute refusal to do what you ask!
I began reading books, professional journals, and articles to see if there was a name for the way this child was acting. I had heard about autism, but knew very little about it. After intensive and frantic research, I finally decided she must be autistic. After a long, arduous struggle, the school system finally agreed to the pediatric neurologist's diagnosis of “autism.” It meant fewer students in my classroom so I could work more intensely with Jenny and two or three others with similar behaviors.
That entire year, and every year since then, I have devoured every available book, professional journal, article, and current research data I could find on autism. There was no one close to our small rural community who had information or experience in the field.
What was accomplished?
Over the next 10 years, six of which, Jenny was my student, she made gains beyond anyone’s belief. At sixteen, she continued to be non-verbal, but she was able to do many things on her own:
Spell many words
Understand almost everything that was said to her
Write in cursive
Add and subtract
Read and understand well over 1000 words
Attend to a task for an hour at a time if necessary
Write her name, address, and telephone number
Follow written directions
Sort, wash, dry and fold clothes
Dust and vacuum
Write a grocery list and find the items in a grocery store
And communicate quite well on an electronic augmentative communicator!
There is hope for even the most severely afflicted children with autism. Until we find a cause and a cure, early intervention is the key to progress. There have been many more “Jennys” in my life since then, and all can be helped to make progress and lead happy lives.
NOTE: The name of the child has been changed so that this story could be told. The picture shown at the top of the page is not the child described.