Stamford tries to offer its autism spectrum disorder students a full education
The Autism News | English
Mickey Teubert (at center) with Michael Kinzler, his mentor in the drama club, and Stamford special education teacher Sheree Cook.
By William Squier | New Haven Advocate
Heidi Teubert was disappointed when her son, Mickey, didn’t appear in his high school’s spring musical, Pippin. Mickey, who is finishing freshman year at Stamford High, isn’t your typical teenage actor. He has a neurological condition known as autism spectrum disorder (ASD). It’s a developmental disability that affects his ability to communicate and interact socially.
Perhaps it was wishful thinking when Teubert proposed that her son be given the chance to act. But Mickey had been in several middle school plays and, due to his particular form of ASD, has a gift for memorizing dialogue. He can recite whole episodes of cartoons with energy, nice vocal projection and all of the subtleties of characterization intact. “It’s one of his strengths,” his mother says.
Still, it was decided to ease Mickey into the drama club with a two-day-a-week stint on the set construction crew. The guidance office arranged for a junior, Michael Kinzler, to act as his mentor. Ultimately, Heidi Teubert was satisfied with the outcome. But, when she talks about it, there’s a tacit ellipsis at the end of some of her sentences that suggests she would have liked to push for just a little bit more.
Pushing for more is what Stamford High School’s new autism program is all about. “It’s the very first high school program developed in the city,” says Susan Chandler, head of SHS’s special education department. “It’s extremely intensive and takes a great deal of planning, dedication and time on the part of the staff.”
The program’s certified special education teacher, Sheree Cook, has set some ambitious goals. “I am insistent that these kids will earn a high school diploma,” says Cook. That means teaching them four years of English and math, three years of history and two of science. Her students also need to develop life skills, like cleaning and cooking for themselves, and tackle what Cook calls “the hidden curriculum” — subtle social behaviors that elude most kids with ASD, like lifting their chins and looking people in the eye when they speak. And they’ve only got four years at Stamford High and an unpredictable school budget to accomplish it all.
Chandler reports that the trend for teaching ASD students is to mainstream them into general education classes. “Being included is extremely important to their parents,” she explains. However, the staff at Stamford High School felt that a self-contained classroom would allow for greater flexibility. Funding for the past year was supplied, in great part, by federal stimulus dollars. Outside groups like the Knights of Columbus donated the appliances for a classroom kitchen, staff members brought in their old pots, pans and other household items, and the non-profit foundation Stamford Education 4 Autism filled in the remaining gaps.
Mickey Teubert’s struggles began as a premature baby in Russia. When the Teuberts traveled there to adopt him, they sensed something about Mickey wasn’t quite right. But they brought him home and Heidi threw away every book that dealt with early childhood development. “I didn’t want to be too freaked out,” she recalls. “I knew that he was going to be delayed and would catch up.”
At age five, however, a friend took her aside and suggested Mickey might have autism. When tests proved her suspicions correct, Teubert sprang into action. “People didn’t understand him in the school system,” she says. “So, they weren’t sure how he was going to behave. Every year was a battle to get what he needed.”
So, Teubert founded Stamford Education 4 Autism with Robin Portanova, the mother of another boy with ASD. Together they worked to raise both awareness and, when necessary, money for materials and services that school administrators were sometimes slow to provide. “It was about educating the educators and the community,” Teubert explains. “We weren’t willing to wait.”
When Mickey, Anthony Portanova and two other students, Olivia Shea and Arrian Velasco, had completed middle school, the mothers looked into each of the city’s three high schools to find the right place to continue their studies as a group. The Academy of Information Technology and Engineering was determined to be too small to house the class. Westhill High School is equipped with facilities like an industrial kitchen that made it a better fit for job training courses after they finish four years of academics. So Stamford High School got their approval.
Mickey’s class consists of the first four students to reach freshman year in the city’s public school system with autism as a “state marked disability.” That means Connecticut officially acknowledges that the disorder affects the way they learn and that the school has a duty to accommodate them. But even though the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act obliges the school to provide a “free and appropriate public education,” it is an unfunded mandate that leaves a lot of room for interpretation. The law only requires that children with ASD be educated until age 21. “Then, that little yellow school bus doesn’t come to the house anymore,” says Cook. It’s a clock that everyone — including the students — can hear running out.
The problem is that little is actually known about what causes ASD and how best to educate people who have it. Although the Centers for Disease Control estimates one child in every 110 is affected with autism, a consistent curriculum has yet to developed, especially for those students who have aged out of the “early intervention” stage. Sheree Cook’s solution is to improvise.
“Every moment of every day is individualized,” she says. “Everything we do has to relate to daily life and be functionally based.” To make those links between their academics and life skills, half of the classroom has been outfitted like an apartment, complete with a working kitchen. Preparing a recipe, for example, can then become a math class that involves measuring using fractions, setting the oven temperature and finding the correct sized pan.
The students have a small army of people helping Cook to teach them, including one-on-one assistants, occupational therapists, speech pathologists and the school’s psychologist. And Cook is in constant contact with the instructors of elective courses like physical education to figure out how to adapt the classes to meet her students’ needs. Extra time spent working with them on the equipment in the fitness room, for example, has made it possible for all four students to workout independently at the after-school cardio club.
To make sure the students are a part of the larger school community, Cook maintains an open-door policy and encourages their peers to drop in whenever they’d like. That’s what brought seniors Jasmine Jones and Katie Faughnan to Room 106.
Jasmine is a star athlete who captains the senior basketball team. Chandler knew Jasmine before she began her daily visits and says she’s noticed a change in her over the last year. “This is a softer child who exhibits sympathy and empathy,” she feels. Jasmine has also decided to study psychology in college.
Katie often stops by to help the class practice their communication skills during their snack break. “In elementary school I was in a special ed program, so I can relate to these kids,” she says. Katie’s college plans include learning to teach special education. But short-term, both she and Jasmine are headed to the senior prom and they’ve promised to bring in pictures to share with the class.
Michael Kinzler was asked to work as Mickey’s drama club mentor by his guidance counselor. “My mom is a kindergarten teacher and she has autistic children in her class,” he says. “So, she told me about things that are common, like repeating what they hear. But it was more difficult than I expected. It took me about two weeks to learn Mickey’s cues.”
Ultimately, Michael found his experience as rewarding as Katie and Jasmine. Sue Chandler sees it as a win-win for all involved. “They were able to come in here and reach outside of themselves at a time when many children are very self-centered,” she points out.
What the future holds, not just for Mickey’s class but the entire program, is something that’s always evolving. Five more students will be joining the four already in the class next fall, so the room will have to be enlarged. But federal funding isn’t likely to keep coming. “When that money runs out, we’re concerned,” says Cook.
So far, the autism program hasn’t been brought into the city’s cost-cutting discussions. At best, the education budget that has been proposed keeps spending levels for the school system at this year’s rate. However, Stamford Director of Administration Fred Flynn, has recommended that the budget be cut by a million dollars.
Still, as long as there’s forward motion, the inhabitants in Room 106 will be taking it a day at a time. Or, to quote Mickey, who somehow summoned up patter from an ancient Vaudeville routine, “Slowly I turned. Step by step. Inch by inch.”
Source: http://www.newhavenadvocate.com/featured-news/the-students-in-room-106
Please share this news with friends, family and also with your contact list on Twitter, Facebook and MySpace.
