Getting To Know Me.....

Early on in my teaching career I worked in an institution

 for emotionally challenged children and adults.

It is a government-run provincial institution. 

After two years of working

 in the Annapolis Valley of Nova Scotia, we moved to the city of Halifax,

the capital of Nova Scotia.

Back in those days it was no problem finding teaching jobs especially 

ones teaching students with 'special needs'. When I got this new job

I knew it would be challenging and I had the energy and the desire

to work with this population (for reasons I may get to in this

'Getting To Know Me' series).

                                       So, my teaching position was to work with children from

the ages of 5 to 12 years of age.

These kids were all 'live-in' patients of this hospital.

They were there for either evaluation and/or treatment,

and a few actually lived there for a while until a proper

placement could be found.

The facility I worked in was brand new and a separate building

from their residence and also from the adult hospital.

This institution is situated on a beautiful piece of land 

overlooking Halifax Harbour and it actually slopes 

down to the water.

I had about eight children the first year. And a few 

I will never forget for different reasons.

One little fellow was autistic. Back then in 1977

autism was not getting the attention it is getting

today. It was a 'condition' that was treated like a number

of other 'disorders'.......like the mentally challenged.

I know these terms are not used today and I have

witnessed a number of 'labels' and their evolution

over the years.

Suffice to say that this boy displayed all the 

stereotypical behaviors of a person with autism.

He was about 9 or 10 years old and wore a helmet

to protect him from the impacts he would 

self-inflict.....he was what we called

a 'head-banger'.

He was a gentle little boy most of the time

but I was soon to discover that he didn't

like his routine being changed...at all.

Every morning he would leave his residence

and head up to the school building like

the rest of the kids did.

Only thing was he would make his way up the path

going/facing backwards. He would almost go at a 

joggers pace running backwards all the way up

and into the school, down the hall, into the classroom

and to his desk....backwards. And, he was good at it!

As I had mentioned, this was all new to me and I was

in the learning mode as well. So, one morning I

wanted to change my classroom around a bit

and proceeded to rearrange the desks and tables.

Everything looked better in my mind...until

this boy was on his way into the newly arranged 

room and couldn't find his desk where it was 'supposed'

to be. He began to SCREAM and cry. I didn't know

immediately what was wrong with him until

he made it perfectly clear through his arm movements

and gestures that he wanted his desk to be where it

always had been....up near the blackboard.

I moved it back as fast as I could and he settled down

and I learned something too that day.

This fellow couldn't/wouldn't speak and he kept

pretty much to himself. Most of the time all I could 

do with him was to let him draw. He would make

these incredible and very intricate designs

either on paper or on the blackboard. And all 

freehand. He so enjoyed doing these.

The hospital setting took a little getting used to after teaching

in a public school setting. I was now part of a medical team

that worked together to determine what behavior therapy or 

treatment was best for each individual.

For this little guy one of the behavior therapies used to 

discourage his head-banging was to use a 'cattle prod'

on his arm whenever he hit his head.

All team members were involved in this so that there would be

consistency and therefore complete elimination of this behavior.

Or at least that was the aim.....and it was well-intentioned.

Remember it was 1977.

The 'shock' from one of these things was obvious to anyone

who tried it out. You knew it was uncomfortable and got your

attention. I immediately did not like this 'therapy'. Something

just didn't sit right with me about using this on a child, let

alone anybody.

As a 'team member' I had to record each time he would hit his head

or self-inflict in any other  way. I also was expected to use this

device (like a large wand) on his arm.

I felt that there was nothing else I could do but comply.

So the first time he self-inflicted I gave him a shock.

(Even saying this and writing this now makes me feel ashamed

that I did this.)

I felt even worse for him after he started to cry and sob.

 It was like I had betrayed him and that was what hurt him the most.

Again, a learning situation for me. From that first 'treatment'

till the end of the year, I fudged the program chart by writing down

false instances and treatments. It was all I could do to keep my job 

and not have to inflict any pain on this innocent child.

This little fellow was there for the year and never stopped 

self-inflicting. He was placed in another institution

and I have no idea what became of him.

The two years I spent at this hospital pretty well drained the energy

out of me. I knew I could not spend another year there. 

It was far too demanding emotionally for me.

We moved to Vancouver, British Columbia on the west coast of Canada

that summer. And you know what job I was offered in a school-setting?

One for emotionally disturbed children! I declined and started painting houses 

and doing gardening to make a living....along with substitute teaching.