A few years ago, I had a class of kids who had all knew each other since kindergarten. They also put a boy from a different grade in who was a little bit different. This class was rambunctious and a bunch of wise-asses and I saw their faces when this other child entered. I was worried.
The first day, the team that received the new guy, was very upset. They ran in front of him to make catches and throws and despite this the boy didn't care. They did. I said nothing. By week three, a few kids realized, despite not being aware of the rules, he could hit, run, catch, kick, etc.
By week five he was getting congratulations and high fives from a few. By week seven, he still couldn't grasp all the rules, but the snickers had turned to encouragement. Then one day we were playing basketball and his team was winning. Everyone on his team had scored, so the other kids stopped trying to win and tried to get him the ball. What was amazing wasn't that his teammates did such s wondrfull thing, but that the other team, even if slightly obvious at times, assisted in this. Eventually, after about seven or eight attempts he scored. They all congratulated him and the game then continued as it began.
In the final week as the kids said goodbye to him, the mother stood there in disbelief. She thanked me for everything I had done to make it easier for him and for getting through to the others. I explained to her that I never once said anything to the kids and that while it took a few weeks, their acceptance and kindness was in no way a result of sympathy or pity projected by me.
In week one, I was told G was autistic and had severe processing issues. I was told if his inclusion was a problem to let them know. The thought never crossed my mind and after three weeks, it never crossed the minds of a bunch of eight year olds. Why would it? Being aware doesn't mean you need to change who you are and what you do, you just have to accept it.
The first day, the team that received the new guy, was very upset. They ran in front of him to make catches and throws and despite this the boy didn't care. They did. I said nothing. By week three, a few kids realized, despite not being aware of the rules, he could hit, run, catch, kick, etc.
By week five he was getting congratulations and high fives from a few. By week seven, he still couldn't grasp all the rules, but the snickers had turned to encouragement. Then one day we were playing basketball and his team was winning. Everyone on his team had scored, so the other kids stopped trying to win and tried to get him the ball. What was amazing wasn't that his teammates did such s wondrfull thing, but that the other team, even if slightly obvious at times, assisted in this. Eventually, after about seven or eight attempts he scored. They all congratulated him and the game then continued as it began.
In the final week as the kids said goodbye to him, the mother stood there in disbelief. She thanked me for everything I had done to make it easier for him and for getting through to the others. I explained to her that I never once said anything to the kids and that while it took a few weeks, their acceptance and kindness was in no way a result of sympathy or pity projected by me.
In week one, I was told G was autistic and had severe processing issues. I was told if his inclusion was a problem to let them know. The thought never crossed my mind and after three weeks, it never crossed the minds of a bunch of eight year olds. Why would it? Being aware doesn't mean you need to change who you are and what you do, you just have to accept it.
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