This one's for you, David

Copyright 2005 Leader Publications

By Catherine Coyle-Murphy

            Having a student walk past you in the hallway of your high school, make eye contact, nod and say, “Hey, man.”

            Waiting in line in the cafeteria, then going through the line to select what you’ll have for lunch.

            Eating that lunch in the school cafeteria along with all the other students.

            Things to which most of us wouldn’t give a second thought, the severely handicapped student longs to do.

            A few years ago I had the privilege of working as a teacher’s assistant with the Special School District of St. Louis County. I was assigned to a student, David, who has quadriplegic cerebral palsy. At the time I worked with him, David was 16 and a freshman at a high school in the Rockwood School District.

            In technical terms, David is non-verbal. He can’t speak. But that doesn’t mean he can’t communicate. David could raise his head, or sometimes just his eyes, up for yes, and down for no. And you would be amazed at how much communication can take place with such seeming limited abilities.

            David was assigned to a special education classroom, but he attended an English class, gym, art and a music class outside the special ed. room.

            David loved being a part of the regular school and he relished being treated as just a regular kid.

            When I worked with him, I always took him through the lunch line, wheelchair and all, to select his meal. He wouldn’t opt for waiting at the table while I selected his lunch for him, even though it would have been faster. David wanted to do whatever the other kids did. And he wanted the independence of picking out his own lunch.

            We would go through the lunch line and I would tell David what was available and he would raise his head up if he wanted it, and down if he didn’t.

            When David really wanted something, he would raise his head up, or back, as far as he could and hold it there.

            When he seriously didn’t want to do something, he would drop his head down, chin resting on his chest, and keep it there. A time or two when he did that and the other teachers and I were distracted, he would get tired of holding his head down and begin to raise his head, only to let it drop quickly again once we turned our attention back to him. He would then continue to hold his head down and look up and around with his eyes to see if we were paying attention.

            When walking with David through the hallways of the school and he wanted to meet someone, and that someone was always a girl, he let me know by darting his eyes quickly between the girl and me. I would then approach the girl and tell her David would like to meet her. The girls would always smile and blush at the flattery and come up and talk to David.

            As a native Guatemalan Indian, David is handsome with black hair and eyes and a dark complexion. I would often overhear the girls saying, “He’s so cute,” as we passed them in the hallways or in the gym class.

            It was sometimes difficult to assess David’s intellectual abilities. At times when I was instructed to test him, I would ask him questions, often using flash cards and asking him to answer yes to the correct answer or to gaze at the correct card. At first, David would get all the answers correct, but after a short time, he would get bored and begin to purposely give wrong answers.

            Sometimes, when he was really bored with an assignment, he would turn his head aside and refuse to look at the material at all.

            For art class, I would place my hand over David’s, or place his on top of mine, and draw whatever he wanted. I was given some information about him at the start of the school year, such as that he liked sports, girls and animals, so I had an idea of what to ask him he wanted to make.

            For collages, I would hold up magazines for him and he would let me know when he liked a picture he wanted to include in the collage.

            When working with clay, I would have David feel the clay as much as possible while we sculpted his chosen project. We made an owl and a mummy.

            David attended the homecoming dance, with myself and another aide as his assistant. He danced with at least seven girls. Some asked him to dance, others he asked, through me. The girls would hold his hand and move his chair to the music as they swayed along. I remember when David’s dad arrived to pick him up after the dance. His poor dad just couldn’t understand why David didn’t want him to attend with him.

            In gym class, we would play kick ball. We would release David’s feet from the footrests and push his wheelchair fast toward the ball after it was rolled toward him so his foot would hit the ball. Then, we would run as we pushed his chair, running bases around the gym lobby floor. David loved it and laughed hard the whole time.

            The gym teacher would also take David near the end of the class and work with him in the same way, having David participate in one of games going on, whether it was soccer, basketball or other indoor gym games.

            Outside, we would push David’s chair around the track as the other students walked or ran.

            Some might question having such a severely handicapped student attend a regular school, but those who do should try to put themselves in David’s shoes. David wanted to be a part of the high school scene. He wanted to do the most ordinary things we all take for granted. Things like receiving that nod and that “Hey, man,” from another kid passing by in the hallway. Things like waiting in the cafeteria line and picking out your own lunch. Things like attending a regular class, or dancing with a girl.

            And why shouldn’t he?