Singing in the Restroom

     As Kevin’s nurse, I used to have a hard time getting him out of the restroom at school. He loved to sing in that small, tiled room where his voice echoed and became louder and clearer. 

     He often, daily, asked to spend more time in the restroom. He had subtle ways to slow down or delay the work process in order to have a little more fun. He would often start by asking me to sing with him. He loved for me to pick up his hands and make large sweeping musical gestures as we sang. While I moved his arms and hands, he used his eyes to give full expression to the chosen song. There was always great expression in his eyes, and perhaps even more when his hands and arms were moving through the air as if he was the conductor. Two of his favorite songs to sing in the restroom were “Take me out to the ball game,” and “He’s got the whole world in his Hands.” Most days he would plead (or beg): “One more time, Mr. Allen. One more time!” And as soon as I’d put down his arms he’d look at me and say: “One more time…Please!”

Eye Contact

     One day, on a playful whim in the classroom, I put on a pair of extra-large sunglasses to attempt eye contact with a student who typically would not make any eye contact; he lived in his own world. I had attempted to make eye contact with this particular student for more than a year. Nothing seemed to work; the connection to people just didn't seem to exist in his world. To my surprise, the extra-large sunglasses worked immediately. The student cocked his head and looked past (or through) the oversized glasses. As he stared into my eyes a big grin came across his face. Our worlds met. I forgot to smile back (at first) as he caught me off guard and unprepared. I was in awe. And by the smile on his face, so was he. It was as if we had met for the very first time.

Not Buying, Just Touching.

     While spending some time at the local mall, we found ourselves inside Sears checking out the Tools and Hardware department. Boy Stuff. After I had picked up a few items and shown them to Kevin, he said: “Mr. Allen, can I hold that screwdriver?” It just happened to be a screwdriver with a real “grippy” handle. 

     “Sure,” I said and went ahead and placed it in his hand to hold (and feel).

     “Ahhh,” Kevin said. “That’s nice. I like that!” So I looked around and found something else that he might like to hold. This time it was a foot long screwdriver. Next I handed him a small sledge hammer, then a wrench, a ratchet, a hatchet, a razor blade knife and any tool I could get into his hands. Sometimes Kevin would have one tool in each hand and look for another to trade. He was in tool heaven; thoroughly excited. Once we had held everything in the “tool” department, we moved over to the “hardware” area.

     “Can I hold that, too?” Kevin asked as he gazed at the bins of nuts and bolts before him. He wanted to pick up and hold and handle everything. He was thriving on touch. We spent a good 90 minutes just handling the merchandise, with a few curious stares along the way. In the hardware department it was sponges, brushes, rope, tape nuts, bolts, and a variety of other miscellaneous items worth touching and holding. Every now and then, someone would stop and stare and wonder what we were doing--playing or stealing? A clerk tried to help us a couple of times, but then left us alone after he realized we were not buying, just touching.

   “How about that, Mr. Allen?  Can I hold that, too?"