A SPECIAL CHILD

The year was 1969.  I was teaching in a migrant kindergarten.  A deaf boy, Guillermo,* was placed in my class.   There were no experts to consult.  I was told to make him feel accepted and work on socialization.  He watched the other children and followed along.  The biggest help was a cousin who had the uncanny ability to tell exactly what Guillermo wanted.  They had been together since birth, and the cousin seemed to sense what Guillermo was thinking.

There was structured curriculum to teach English to the children who only spoke Spanish.  Guillermo did other activities during the English lesson.

We did a variety of activities including manipulatives, coloring, and painting.  Guillermo used only black crayons and paints.  We were thrilled in February when he picked up a red crayon to color valentines.  He began to use other colors after that.

We had a mesh container in the classroom for the children to observe live things. They had an affinity for bugs and worms.  We would observe their treasures for an hour or two and then release them back into their own environment.  Guillermo’s instinct was to smash all bugs and insects found on the playground.  We had to watch him closely.  He did not understand why we just looked and did not destroy.  One day a small bird flew through the open window of the classroom hitting the window sill.  Stunned, the bird fell to the floor.  Guillermo rushed to it, grabbed it, and had his arm ready to dash it to the floor when I reached him.  I surprised him by taking his arm, causing him to release his grip.  Fortunately, the little bird had recovered enough to fly back out the open window.

During the last week of school, I watched the children looking intently at something on a shrub at the edge of the playground.  Suddenly Guillermo raced toward me holding something in his hands.  He opened his cupped hands slightly so that I could see a beautiful butterfly.  When he turned from me, I was ready to rescue the butterfly.  Instead of throwing it to the ground and stepping on it, he raised his arms high above his head, opened his hands wide, and released the butterfly.  As we watched it take flight, I had tears in my eyes.  He was learning!

*not his real name

Note:  He began first grade at a regional day school for