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Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Society slowly learns to deal with autism

By Maura Lerner

http://www.startribune.com/lifestyle/health/146612015.html?page=1&c=y

For a college class, the assignment seemed simple enough: Gather in circles of five or six students and discuss a few questions as a group.

But one young man refused, sitting uncomfortably apart from his classmates and saying nothing.

In the past, he might have flunked the assignment outright. But in this case, the professor met with the student in private and decided to let him answer the questions by himself.

That's just one way colleges and other parts of society are starting to adapt to what might be called the autism phenomenon.

As autism has morphed from a medical oddity to a commonly diagnosed disability -- affecting one in 88 children -- the ripple effects are being felt far beyond grade schools. Travel agencies such as autistictraveler.com are catering to families with autistic children; AMC Theatres offer sensory-friendly screenings. Some businesses are starting to tailor internships to autistic young adults. Universities such as St. Thomas are trying to make dorms and classrooms more autism-friendly.

"There are more and more students, it seems, coming to college with Asperger's," a form of autism, said Kim Schumann, disability director at the University of St. Thomas in St. Paul. "I think there's going to be more pressure to adapt and have support services in place, because they're going to come."

The latest jump in autism numbers -- released by federal officials 10 days ago -- are fueling concerns about what some say is a rising "tidal wave" of people with special needs.

"I think this whole issue has so many implications for society that we've only begun to think about," said Virginia Richardson, parent-training manager at the Pacer Center in Bloomington, which assists people with disabilities.

Experts are still debating what's driving the numbers --whether it's a true surge in autism, or a reflection of changing definitions and diagnostic techniques. Autism, a brain disorder that affects speech, learning and behavior, covers a wide range of abilities, from children who can barely speak to academic high achievers.

Most, however, share a defining feature: They lack the social skills that come second nature to their peers.

In college, said Schumann, that can spell the difference between success and failure. Students with autism often struggle with how to interact with others, stay on task, organize their work.

"If they don't have those skills, that will spill into academics," she said.

One autistic student, she said, waited for hours outside a professor's office to turn in a paper. He took the professor's instructions literally: to hand it in by 4:30 p.m. When the professor didn't show up in person, the student left -- and missed the deadline.

"What the professor meant was, put it in my mailbox," she said. Schumann helped the student and teacher straighten things out.

Where to draw the line?

Since autism is a disability, colleges are required to make accommodations for those students. That might mean extra coaching, a private dorm room, or extra time to complete a test, said Kathy McGillivray, director of disability services at Hamline University in St. Paul.

"Of course, schools have to draw the line at some point," McGillivray said.

Once, she recalled, a parent insisted her child "needed a list of what they were supposed to do that day, every day. I said, that's not something I'm going to be able to do." Instead, she advised the parents to hire another student to help the child. They did -- and after a semester, the extra help was no longer needed.

Essentially, McGillivray sees herself as a coach. Sometimes she advises students to write a letter to their professors, explaining that they may have trouble making eye contact or seem awkward in meetings because they have Asperger's. "And that works for a number of students."

She noted that the solutions vary, because the students themselves are so different. One might flounder with a roommate, "but you wouldn't want to assume that's an issue for every student who's on the spectrum," she said.

Thriving

At Medtronic, managers weren't quite sure what kind of accommodations they'd need to make when they started an internship for disabled young adults, including several with autism, as part of a national program called Project Search in 2009.

What they found is that the interns with autism tended to do better in cubicles than in open spaces, because "there's no interruption," said Stan Blackwell, who oversees the project at Medtronic.

At first, the students struggled with "some of those social skills," said Kathy Daas, a finance manager who works with the interns. "A lot of them couldn't make eye contact very well."

But on the job, she said, they thrived. On some tasks, they were more accurate than her regular employees, she added. "More detail-oriented, more focused, and they are so concerned about doing everything right." By the end, she said, even some of their social awkwardness had disappeared. One student gave a presentation to a couple of hundred people, something she said she "never expected."

But programs like this are rare. And advocates worry that neither colleges nor businesses are prepared for the coming rush.

"We, for a long time, have watched the autism wave come," said Sean Roy, a disability advocate at Pacer Center. "I think it's going to start spurring some serious conversations. But when you have a social condition like that, change happens, I think, over a longer period of time."

Morehead State University: Mentoring program to aid disabled

Mike James The Independent
The Daily Independent Sun Apr 08, 2012, 11:55 PM EDT

http://dailyindependent.com/local/x1224376313/Morehead-State-University-Mentoring-program-to-aid-disabled

MOREHEAD — The first freshman days at college can be daunting under the best of circumstances.

Students with disabilities face the same challenges — learning to navigate the campus, getting the right books, settling into the social scene — but with additional difficulties of vision impairment or lack of mobility.

Some Morehead State University students with disabilities want to spare younger students some of the anxiety they felt when they came to campus for the first time. They have launched a new organization called Students Empowering Exceptional Individuals, which will pair successful upperclass students who are disabled with middle- and high-school students who share the same disability.

"I want to show other students they can go to college and be successful with a disability," said Adam Black, who is vice president of the organization. Black, who is visually impaired and has a learning disability, said he had a role model when he was at Russell High School, and that led him to believe other students could benefit from the same kind of guidance.

The organization is sending out notices to school districts in MSU's eastern Kentucky service area to refer students who may benefit from a mentor, said president Stacy Timberlake, a senior special education major from South Shore.

So far the group has gotten a reply from one and is hoping for more, she said.

High school students who ask for a mentor will outline their interests and disabilities and be matched with a member.

That will happen at events the organization will host this fall on campus.

The idea is to build relationships with the younger students and help guide them through college, said Timberlake, who is almost blind and has a seizure disorder.

Learning the mechanics of college life, like housing, scheduling and campus geography, isn't genuinely difficult, but it can seem so to a freshman away from home for the first time, she said. As a mentor, she hopes she can help smooth the way and be a reassuring presence.

The university has numerous resources for students, whether disabled or not; organization members can help students find them, she said.

Share on emailShare on printShare on redditMore Sharing ServicesCollege 101: Ask for help

Students with learning disabilities often don't ask for the help that is available

http://articles.chicagotribune.com/2012-04-11/news/ct-x-disabled-college-20120411_1_disabled-students-higher-education-and-disability-richard-allegra

Peggy O'Connor, 33, lost her tuition grant at Moraine Valley Community… (Zbigniew Bzdak, Chicago Tribune)

April 11, 2012|By Andrea L. Brown, Special to the Tribune

Anthony Mazzuca returned from military duty in Afghanistan with disabilities that affect his hearing and memory, making him eligible for special assistance in his pursuit of a community college degree.

But he doesn't take the extra help.

"I don't like to waste resources," said Mazzuca, 47, of Waukegan, who is pursuing a business degree from the College of Lake County in Grayslake. "I do like to challenge myself."

The former soldier is among the ranks of college students with disabilities who prefer to make their own way. Experts have a hard time tracking their numbers because the students prefer to fly under the radar.

"Many have left the disability back in high school," said Thomas Crowe, director of the Office for Students with Disabilities at the College of Lake County. "They don't want to use it as a crutch."

In high school and elementary school, educators are obligated by law to identify and assist students diagnosed with disabilities — so they get help whether they want it or not. But once students enter college, it's up to them to seek help through the school's disabilities office.

No formal study has tracked how many students with disabilities earn college degrees without assistance, said Richard Allegra, program manager and director of business development for the Association on Higher Education and Disability.

"We don't have a handle on the students who don't register with the office and get through," Allegra said. "That's the number that's kind of elusive to us."

Allegra speculates 10 to 15 percent of students he's encountered in his 30 years working in disability services tried the college experience on their own before seeking help. The reasons vary, but avoiding stigma is likely the overarching motivation for trying to get by without help, especially for people with psychiatric disabilities, he said.

"They don't want to be looked at as different or feared," Allegra said. "Young people want to be part of the group."

Some colleges try to dispel those fears, and have been working harder to help disabled students understand that leveling the playing field should not be equated with "extra" help.

The Moraine Valley Community College Center for Disability Services works closely with its district high schools to help students feel comfortable identifying their disabilities and seeking the help they deserve, said Director Debbie Sievers.

Every fall, representatives from the college give presentations to special education students about the differences between high school and college. They distribute brochures and also offer tours to give them a feel for the campus, Sievers said.

Starting in February, representatives speak one-on-one with students and also communicate with parents.

"We talk again more in detail with students about what their plan is," Sievers said. "We talk about their career options."

In the summer, the department conducts student orientations and helps students register for classes. During the semester, the department sends out midterm evaluations.

"That has helped us to be very proactive with their academic success," Sievers said.

Despite the college's best efforts, some students don't seek help, even if they are well aware they have a disability.

Beginning in preschool and continuing through elementary and high school, Peggy K. O'Connor, 33, of Orland Hills, had assistance from a classroom aide. She was 10 when doctors finally diagnosed a disability that affects her memory and ability to retain information.

Even though she passed her classes at Moraine Community College last fall, O'Connor was surprised to learn that her grade-point average wasn't good enough to continue receiving a tuition grant.

She said she now knows she should have sought the help that she knew was available.

Enrolled in only two classes — a reading requirement and physical education — O'Connor thought she could handle the load. By the time she recognized she was studying the wrong material, it was too late for the disabilities office to schedule help for that semester.

"I didn't have an aide to sit with me in the classroom. I didn't record the lectures," O'Connor said. "I thought I was understanding the materials in the right way in what the instructor was looking for."

Coming to the realization around finals time that they "blew it" and should have gotten help is not unusual, said Nancy Litke, senior director of the Academic Success Center at Roosevelt University in Chicago.

For an extra fee, Roosevelt offers a transition program in which students meet with a specialist to work on strategies for success in college. That involves in part helping students identify and apply their strengths, as well as develop skills for communicating when they might need special help in class.

"We work really very hard on developing self-advocacy skills to help them to be able to be more comfortable talking to professors," Litke said.

Mazzuca, the veteran, has identified several strategies to keep him on task and help him maintain his GPA. He looks at his calendar every day to jog his memory. He spends most of his day on campus.

"I'm here six days a week, 12 hours a day," Mazzuca said. "I have to be here 60-65 hours a week.

Follow This Article UNF program offers students with intellectual disabilities full university experienceRead more at Jacksonville.com: http://jacksonville.com/news/metro/2012-04-17/story/unf-program-offers-students-intellectual-disabilities-full-university#ixzz1sRx3mKie

By Matt Soergel jacksonville.com Copyright 2012 The Florida Times-Union. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.



Read more at Jacksonville.com:
http://jacksonville.com/news/metro/2012-04-17/story/unf-program-offers-students-intellectual-disabilities-full-university#ixzz1sRx9Eewh

The crashing piano notes of Henry Cowell's "The Tides of Manaunaun" — parts of it played with the flat of the hand, the fist and the forearm — rings out through the University of North Florida classroom, majestic and brooding.

The students remain straight-faced throughout the 100-year-old experimental piece. It's a music appreciation class, but they give few signs of appreciating the composition, at least not openly.

Except for Joel Reeves, that is. He leans forward. He smiles. He really listens. He's eating it up.

That's what this time of life is about, what college is for, right? And Reeves, 23, is loving his college experience — though at one point in his life few might have thought it likely he would have one.

Reeves, who has Down syndrome and a hearing disability, is part of a program at UNF aimed at allowing students with intellectual disabilities to attend college.

They audit two classes each semester instead of taking them for credit, but in many other respects they're just like every other college student.

The 25 students in this school year's program can take classes and go to basketball games. They can use the weight room and swimming pool. They can hang out in the cafeteria and game room. They can go to concerts and movies. They can work on campus and live in an apartment with roommates.

There's even a separate graduation ceremony, scheduled for April 25.

It's called the Arc Jacksonville Academy On Campus Transition Program. It's been up and running since 2007, a collaboration between UNF and the Arc Jacksonville, a nonprofit that works with people with developmental disabilities.

"For our students, all they truly want to be is just another college student," says Crystal Makowski, the program director. "We don't let the IQ define our students."

Sometimes, Makowski says, she'll see one of her students around campus hanging out with others, and they'll pointedly ignore her. But she's OK with that — that's what their independence calls for.

Those in the program have a range of conditions such as autism, Down syndrome and fetal alcohol syndrome; some are undiagnosed.

Jason Hibbard, who teaches Reeves' music-appreciation class, has had several students from the program in that course and others have taken the history of rock with him. They're a joy, he says.

"A lot of them, like Joel, are among the most responsive students," he says. "They tend to be pretty enthusiastic about the music, especially the rock class."

Keyaire Law, 22, said she's not really sure what her intellectual disability is called, but whatever it is, it doesn't stop her from taking college courses and riding her skateboard — she calls it Purple Haze — around campus.

"There is no such thing as normal," she says. "And we're not dumb, we're not stupid. We just have special needs."

Kayla Kubart, 20, a business student, just had lunch with her. Kubart is one of some 220 student mentors who volunteer an hour each week to the transition program students, a crucial link in getting them integrated into college life.

Law is taking water exercise and cultural geography, a class that's got her interested in reading maps and learning about different religions. She's also working part-time in the Disability Resource Center, which she hopes will lead to an office job after she finishes at UNF.

Going to college is important to her. "If I have children along the way, I don't want to say, 'No, your mom didn't go to college,' " she says.

The program focuses on helping the students make the transition to living independent lives as adults: With the help of AmeriCorps volunteers on campus, they learn about such things as budgeting money, making resumes and applying for jobs, nutrition and fitness.

Maurice Olayinka, 21, lives in an apartment just off campus with three roommates. In his spare time, you can find him in the game room on campus playing video or card games. But his passion is art: He's taking a sculpting class, and he has notebooks filled with the comic-book characters he's created, including many of Maxar the Reptile.

"He's my boy," said Olayinka.

He's not sure what his intellectual disability is — people often ask because he's bright and talkative. He says, though, he sometimes has problems with comprehending things that come easily to others.

He graduates from the program next week. He's got the next step figured out, though: He's been working part-time in the food court in the student union, busing tables and keeping plates and silverware on hand. He just got a raise this month and has already been offered a full-time job there.

He's taking the job.

Olayinka says he's a little sad about graduating. He almost even cried, thinking about it.

"The good thing is, I'm going to be here," he says. "I'm just not going to be going to school here. But I'll still be around campus."



Read more at Jacksonville.com:
http://jacksonville.com/news/metro/2012-04-17/story/unf-program-offers-students-intellectual-disabilities-full-university#ixzz1sRwz2wdv

Sunday, April 8, 2012

KIVA program helps students with disabilities enhance life skills

By Robert Nott | The New Mexican

3/4/2012

http://www.santafenewmexican.com/Local%20News/Independent-transitions

Randy Mares couldn't decide if he was more nervous about his job applications or the fact that he was about to perform some dance routines in front of an audience at the Mary Esther Gonzales Senior Center on Alto Street on Friday morning.

But preparing for the workforce and displaying social skills -- via ballroom dancing -- are all part of Santa Fe Public Schools' KIVA program. KIVA, which stands for Keeping Independent Visions Alive, helps students with disabilities transition from high school into the community by teaching them life skills and emphasizing independence.

"We teach them what most teens do intuitively," said Alice Giovinco, rehabilitation counselor for the district's special education transition services. "If you teach them the skills -- and they have to learn via a hands-on approach wherein you teach them over and over and over again -- some of them are capable of holding part-time jobs."

The students are all graduates of Santa Fe Public Schools, which has about 2,500 special-education students enrolled. KIVA's participants, who range in age from 18 to 22, attend daily sessions that include talks on job opportunities, classes in body movement and dance, and visits to local nonprofits where they work as volunteers.

One day they might work at the Santa Fe Animal Shelter and Humane Society grooming animals and cleaning kennels, and the next day they might be packing lunches at Kitchen Angels. According to Giovinco, many Santa Fe nonprofits have supported the program by offering work opportunities.

"I'm very appreciative of these community agencies. Without their help we would be campus-based, and you can't teach these kids what they need to know in a classroom," she said. (KIVA does have a home base at the Academy at Larragoite School on Agua Fría Street.)

Teresa Norton, Food Services Director for Kitchen Angels, said she has been relying on KIVA students to help out for about five years. "They do things that need to be done, that are simple to do," she said. "Some wash dirty trays, some fold clothes, some of them separate and line up bags for us -- we send our meals out in bags. I'm not afraid to ask them to do anything that I need done."

Giovinco said the program began about nine years ago. It employs her, two teachers, and several teacher aides so that students can receive as much one-on-one training as possible.

Among other tasks, the teachers assist the students in figuring out how to use the city's public-transportation system. Students and teachers get to ride for free, thanks to councilor Carmichael Dominguez and Mayor David Coss, Giovinco said.

KIVA instructor Dino Roybal, who has taken ballroom dance lessons, gave the students dance lessons in swing, salsa, country western and waltzing to prepare for Friday's concert. Student Mares did just fine when it came to dancing, and he took part in singing some Ritchie Valens tunes at the concert, too.

Roybal said dancing teaches the students social and communication skills and hand-eye coordination.

A few of the KIVA students hold part-time jobs at local restaurants, Giovinco said. She noted that several national employment studies indicate that employees with disabilities have high workforce performance ratings, better retention rates and less absenteeism in the workplace.

She said KIVA has limited funding and she's always looking for new sources or grants to support it. Donations to the program can be made via Santa Fe Partners in Education, www.sfpartnersineducation.org.

"By the time they leave this program, they have developed skills to help transition to a more active adult life," Giovinco said of the KIVA students. "Otherwise they just transition to the TV."

‘Next Stop’: Aging out of special-needs network and navigating the future

By Janice D'Arcy


 

http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/on-parenting/post/next-stop-aging-out-of-special-needs-network-and-navigating-the-future/2012/03/09/gIQAd4SNES_blog.html

A few years ago, a Washington mother and her son set out to navigate the region's Metro system, to learn and memorize its colors, stations and connections.

That mission was about more than curiosity. It now serves as the backbone of a coming book that tracks the parenting travails of the mother and her "differently-abled" son as they try to navigate not just the Metro but also the frustrating years after a child ages out of special-needs support typically provided in schools.

Learning the Metro, for the son David, was intended to be the first step toward learning to live an independent life. It was also a mission for a mother who, like so many mothers of autistic children (see the earlier post today about this subject), had spent years overseeing his care and was now learning to let go.

Glen Finland, the mother, wrote of the journey in the Washington Post Magazine in 2009.

She went on to develop the piece into the full-length book "Next Stop". It will be released by Amy Einhorn Books on March 29. Next week, I'll post a Q&A with Glen about the book and her family's experiences. Let me know if you have questions for her.

First, here's an excerpt from "Next Stop":

The next morning found us back on the train, studying the maps of the city. Maps are everywhere you look inside the Metro, and David loves maps. Especially ones that tell him: You Are Here.

It's actually quite hard to get lost on the Metro, but somehow I had done it again. I didn't realize it until we climbed out of the underground to surface in the morning bustle and stir of Judiciary Square.

"I thought you'd like to see what's above ground here, David." As I spoke, he stared at my mouth, not my eyes, most likely missing the facial cues that might alert him to the snow job I was giving him. But with David, nothing is ever exactly what it seems.

"You got us lost again, didn't you, Mom."

We turned around and headed back down into the station. At the fare gate, David inserted his Metro card and passed easily through the turnstile. I stuck my card in, too, but it spit right out with a little digital alert that said Add fare.

David and I were now separated by the turnstile in the pushiness of rush hour.

"Dave, stay right where you are," I said. "I've got to put more money on my farecard. Back in a sec."

The line at the farecard machine stood six deep. I fumbled around in my bag for my wallet. A dollar bill and four quarters. Yeah, that should do it. I looked back over my shoulder to gesture to David to be patient — and he was gone. Vanished. I raced over to the turnstile and pushed against it, straining to pick him out of the crowd.

The stationmaster appeared at my side. "Ma'am, you can't get in without a farecard."

"But my kid's gone ahead of me. You gotta let me in."

"How old is he?" asked the guard, a middle-aged black guy with bushy gray eyebrows.

"Twenty-one, but . . ."

His concern transformed into a scoff. "Ma'am," he said, hiking up his pants, "you can't get in without a farecard."

"My boy doesn't know where he's going. I've got to get to him."

The stationmaster shook his head. "Sir. My son is autistic." The man looked at me with a blank expression. "He's, he's …" Ah, damn. How do you explain the cognitive buckshot of autism in the time it takes a child to disappear? With each second stealing David further away, I had no choice. I resorted to the shortcut word that everybody knows. It was the wrong word, a throwaway word, but it meant something and was the only word that could get me what I needed right now. And that was David. With my conscience shrieking, Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! I looked into the stationmaster's eyes and said, "My son is retarded. You have to let me go find him."

"Tell me his name," said the guard. "I'll make an announcement over the PA system."

"See, that's just it. He'd never pay attention to a stranger's voice — only my voice. Please …"

The guard took my elbow and led me to his kiosk. He reached through a window, pressed a button, and withdrew a microphone. "Make it short," he said, holding the mic up to my face. "Tell him to return to the fare gate."

I leaned toward the mic and an enormous voice I didn't recognize jumped out of my throat. "David, it's Mom," I said. "Come back to the fare gate."

The words quivered and, still holding the mic to my mouth, the stationmaster said, "One more time."

"Come back, David. Come back to where you started."

This time the words flew over the crowded train platforms and ricocheted off the steel rails. Disregarded by most commuters, they were plain enough to grab one young man's attention, wherever he'd gotten to.

And then he was there. Undamaged and unconcerned. "Hey, Mom" was all he had to say. There was nothing for me to do but to shake it off and get back on the train.

The stationmaster approached us and handed me something: a pocket map of the Metro system. "Just in case your mother gets lost again," he said to David. Then he keyed open the fare gate and, with the gentlest shoulder pat, eased me through."

Transition Academy Helps Students with Disabilities Find Jobs, Support

The Lake Washington School District's Transition Academy helps kids with disabilities transition from school to employment, and find a place in the community.

Poudre School District Cooper Home helps special-needs students live independently

http://www.coloradoan.com/article/20120322/NEWS01/203220334/Poudre-School-District-Cooper-Home-helps-special-needs-students-live-independently?odyssey=tab%7Ctopnews%7Ctext%7CNews

Lindsey Caddoo, 19, is like a lot of girls her age.

She likes to watch TV, especially the ABC Family show "Pretty Little Liars." She loves to watch "Twilight," and is "obviously" an Edward fan. She dreams of being as famous as her distant cousin Taylor Swift and wants to be "just like her" someday.

But to some, Caddoo might not seem so typical.

She has Down syndrome.

"I have trouble talking about myself sometimes," she explained.

But one Poudre School District program is helping Caddoo and 16 other students with mild to moderate disabilities transition into the real world and gain a sense of belonging after high school: Cooper Home Learning 4 Living.

Cooper Home, 740 E. Stuart St., is a transitional support facility that helps 18- to 21-year-old students with some form of disability transition from high school to independent living.

For Caddoo, it's a place where she can learn the basics, maintain three internships throughout the community and meet new people.

"It's fun to be here," she said. "I have friends here. I have friends that love me a lot."

At Cooper Home, Caddoo and her classmates learn and practice the basics of everyday life, from riding the bus alone to completing daily chores and cooking to participating in recreational opportunities available for adults with disabilities.

This week, students from the Cooper Home learned dance moves at local Club Tico as part of the Adaptive Recreation Opportunities, a service available to people of all ages with disabilities.

"We want the kids to be able to go from high school to the Cooper Home to adulthood," said Gayna Jobe, teacher coordinator for Cooper Home.

"We try to look at what's available in the community that they could use in adulthood, working with them now so they can bridge that gap to independent living."

The ultimate goal is the highest level of independence possible for each of her students, Jobe added. For some, complete independence is possible. Others will always live with family members but will leave the program with the skills necessary to lead a normal life and converse with the average person on the bus or at work.

(Page 2 of 3)


 

"We read the paper everyday and talk about various things that are happening in the world and in Fort Collins and Denver, so they can talk about, for example, how Peyton Manning is coming and Tim Tebow is leaving," she said. "It makes them more able to communicate with other adults. In order to be a part of your community, you have to know what's going on.

Overcoming hurdles

Jobe said the biggest hurdle to young adults with disabilities is their own perception of themselves, perpetrated by society's sometimes less-than-favorable view of the disabled.

"When they come to me, they don't see themselves as young adults," she said. "They don't see themselves as being able to ride the bus by themselves because they haven't been given to that opportunity.

"But when they come to me, I don't look at them like they're disabled. I recognize that they have challenges and disabilities - I don't ever deny that, but I don't let that stop them from being all that they can be."

One of the biggest hurdles for many students in the program is transportation. For some, riding the bus alone presents emotional difficulties.

For Qwalon "Q" Tabb-Tandy, 19, public transportation is sometimes physically challenging.

Tabb-Tandy was born with a spinal condition that limits the functionality of his legs. He has used a wheelchair or canes to navigate the world from the time he was a small child.

Doctors aren't entirely sure what caused his disability. He's been told it's either cerebral palsy or a spinal injury.

"The hardest thing for me is transportation," he said. "I ride the bus, but it's a long way to walk on my canes sometimes and the wheelchair is a lot harder to use than my canes."

After he gets on the bus, the challenge can be entirely different when he's greeted - or stared at - by people.

"I wish the community would be able to respect people who are different," he said. "Sometimes people look at you and laugh or say mean things behind your back. You may not know what they say, but you know inside that they're talking about you.

(Page 3 of 3)


 

"It's unfair for us to go through that every single day, depending on what your disability is."

Jobe said community members often don't know how to treat people with disabilities, making interactions at times painful for both sides.

The best solution is to treat people with disabilities how they should be treated, she said: like people.

"People are afraid because they don't know what to expect," she said. "But we're all more alike than we are different. No matter who you are, you want to know that you're accepted and that you're loved. Just come get to know us. Come see what we're all about."

Inspiring dreams

Cooper Home helps move past stereotypes and inspire confidence in its students, an aspect that Jobe said is the most rewarding part of her job.

"Ideally, the last day with us will look like the first day of the rest of their lives," she said.

When students earn positions either as interns, volunteers or paid employees, they begin to see that independence really is a possibility.

"When students see themselves as successful and start to think 'I can do this,' it's so empowering for them," she said. "It makes them feel like they aren't as disabled as the world thinks they are.

Jobe said she tries to gradually change the mindset of her students by introducing them to mentorship opportunities, service projects and other activities.

Every Thursday morning, the group mentors students with disabilities at Laurel Elementary, which student Gabe Garcia, 19, says helps him see that he can be a leader despite his seizure disorder.

"I like hanging out with the younger kids," Garcia said. "Cooper Home has helped me a lot."

Garcia has also found fulfillment and purpose as a part-time cook at local restaurant Hacienda Real - fulfilling one of many goals he keeps in a cup at home: to get a job.

Tabb-Tandy also has big goals for his life, chief of which is to use his creative talents and passions to design specialized rollercoasters for people with disabilities.

"It's hard for family members to go on a great trip to an amusement park, but their family members with disabilities can't go on the rides because they could trigger their emotions or conditions," he said. "I want to make it so anyone can ride those rides without having a negative reaction."

"We read the paper everyday and talk about various things that are happening in the world and in Fort Collins and Denver, so they can talk about, for example, how Peyton Manning is coming and Tim Tebow is leaving," she said. "It makes them more able to communicate with other adults. In order to be a part of your community, you have to know what's going on.

Overcoming hurdles

Jobe said the biggest hurdle to young adults with disabilities is their own perception of themselves, perpetrated by society's sometimes less-than-favorable view of the disabled.

"When they come to me, they don't see themselves as young adults," she said. "They don't see themselves as being able to ride the bus by themselves because they haven't been given to that opportunity.

"But when they come to me, I don't look at them like they're disabled. I recognize that they have challenges and disabilities - I don't ever deny that, but I don't let that stop them from being all that they can be."

One of the biggest hurdles for many students in the program is transportation. For some, riding the bus alone presents emotional difficulties.

For Qwalon "Q" Tabb-Tandy, 19, public transportation is sometimes physically challenging.

Tabb-Tandy was born with a spinal condition that limits the functionality of his legs. He has used a wheelchair or canes to navigate the world from the time he was a small child.

Doctors aren't entirely sure what caused his disability. He's been told it's either cerebral palsy or a spinal injury.

"The hardest thing for me is transportation," he said. "I ride the bus, but it's a long way to walk on my canes sometimes and the wheelchair is a lot harder to use than my canes."

After he gets on the bus, the challenge can be entirely different when he's greeted - or stared at - by people.

"I wish the community would be able to respect people who are different," he said. "Sometimes people look at you and laugh or say mean things behind your back. You may not know what they say, but you know inside that they're talking about you.

"It's unfair for us to go through that every single day, depending on what your disability is."

Jobe said community members often don't know how to treat people with disabilities, making interactions at times painful for both sides.

The best solution is to treat people with disabilities how they should be treated, she said: like people.

"People are afraid because they don't know what to expect," she said. "But we're all more alike than we are different. No matter who you are, you want to know that you're accepted and that you're loved. Just come get to know us. Come see what we're all about."

Inspiring dreams

Cooper Home helps move past stereotypes and inspire confidence in its students, an aspect that Jobe said is the most rewarding part of her job.

"Ideally, the last day with us will look like the first day of the rest of their lives," she said.

When students earn positions either as interns, volunteers or paid employees, they begin to see that independence really is a possibility.

"When students see themselves as successful and start to think 'I can do this,' it's so empowering for them," she said. "It makes them feel like they aren't as disabled as the world thinks they are.

Jobe said she tries to gradually change the mindset of her students by introducing them to mentorship opportunities, service projects and other activities.

Every Thursday morning, the group mentors students with disabilities at Laurel Elementary, which student Gabe Garcia, 19, says helps him see that he can be a leader despite his seizure disorder.

"I like hanging out with the younger kids," Garcia said. "Cooper Home has helped me a lot."

Garcia has also found fulfillment and purpose as a part-time cook at local restaurant Hacienda Real - fulfilling one of many goals he keeps in a cup at home: to get a job.

Tabb-Tandy also has big goals for his life, chief of which is to use his creative talents and passions to design specialized rollercoasters for people with disabilities.

"It's hard for family members to go on a great trip to an amusement park, but their family members with disabilities can't go on the rides because they could trigger their emotions or conditions," he said. "I want to make it so anyone can ride those rides without having a negative reaction."

Milford Regional program helps young adults work past disabilities

MILFORD —

When Alicia Carco started an internship at Milford Regional Medical Center this fall, she was worried about how she would adapt to the working world or if she would succeed.

Now, the 20-year-old Bellingham resident and Milford High graduate, who has a mood disorder, said she has developed math, social and organizational skills that will help her for the rest of her life.

"At first I didn't know what I was going to experience," said Carco, who works in the hospital's linen department, where she fills orders and organizes linens to be sent throughout the hospital. Now "I want to do this job. I like my co-workers."

Carco is one of six young adults with disabilities who are participating in Project Search, a one-year program that provides training through unpaid internships with the goal of giving students the social and career skills needed to find a job.

Students rotate through jobs in the hospital's linens, food service, mailroom/stockroom, clinical equipment and equipment sterilization departments.

"We absolutely love having them here," said Frank Saba, the hospital's CEO, who said the program helps the hospital go beyond its primary mission of providing acute care. "It's been a great collaboration, and we're delighted to be part of it."

Project Search organizers and interns gathered at the hospital yesterday to celebrate the program, a partnership between the hospital, Massachusetts Rehabilitation Commission, Milford Public Schools, Riverside Community Care, Franklin-based Horace Mann Educational Associates and UMass Medical School.

Project Search was started at a Cincinnati hospital 15 years ago and has grown to more than 150 sites in four countries.

Massachusetts did not have any programs until this year, when they were launched at Milford Regional and a Cape Cod hospital, said Don Hughes, an associate division director at Riverside Community Care who manages Riverside's Central Massachusetts Employment Collaborative.

"It's really an opportunity to give them some real-world work experience," Hughes said.

The program's goal is to help students succeed in any work environment and to ease the transition between high school and full-time work, he said.

Charles Carr, commissioner of the Massachusetts Rehabilitation Commission, said the program targets a critical age group. Young adults with disabilities may become dependent on Social Security and other government benefits for life if they cannot find work, he said.

When Alicia Carco started an internship at Milford Regional Medical Center this fall, she was worried about how she would adapt to the working world or if she would succeed.

Now, the 20-year-old Bellingham resident and Milford High graduate, who has a mood disorder, said she has developed math, social and organizational skills that will help her for the rest of her life.

"At first I didn't know what I was going to experience," said Carco, who works in the hospital's linen department, where she fills orders and organizes linens to be sent throughout the hospital. Now "I want to do this job. I like my co-workers."

Carco is one of six young adults with disabilities who are participating in Project Search, a one-year program that provides training through unpaid internships with the goal of giving students the social and career skills needed to find a job.

Students rotate through jobs in the hospital's linens, food service, mailroom/stockroom, clinical equipment and equipment sterilization departments.

"We absolutely love having them here," said Frank Saba, the hospital's CEO, who said the program helps the hospital go beyond its primary mission of providing acute care. "It's been a great collaboration, and we're delighted to be part of it."

Project Search organizers and interns gathered at the hospital yesterday to celebrate the program, a partnership between the hospital, Massachusetts Rehabilitation Commission, Milford Public Schools, Riverside Community Care, Franklin-based Horace Mann Educational Associates and UMass Medical School.

Project Search was started at a Cincinnati hospital 15 years ago and has grown to more than 150 sites in four countries.

Massachusetts did not have any programs until this year, when they were launched at Milford Regional and a Cape Cod hospital, said Don Hughes, an associate division director at Riverside Community Care who manages Riverside's Central Massachusetts Employment Collaborative.

"It's really an opportunity to give them some real-world work experience," Hughes said.

The program's goal is to help students succeed in any work environment and to ease the transition between high school and full-time work, he said.

Charles Carr, commissioner of the Massachusetts Rehabilitation Commission, said the program targets a critical age group. Young adults with disabilities may become dependent on Social Security and other government benefits for life if they cannot find work, he said.

"People with disabilities are the largest minority," Carr said. "This is a great intervention in their life."

Milford schools Superintendent Robert Tremblay said the program shows the importance of work experience for students with or without disabilities.

"It's a good lesson for (the district)," Tremblay said. "I thank you for providing this for us and leading the way."

Since she started in September, Carco has gone from a shy girl to someone who can interact with and working alongside co-workers who are not disabled, said her mother, Michelle Bonati.

"I cannot tell you how proud I am of my daughter," Bonati said. "Everyone has watched her come out of her shell."

Brian Benson can be reached at 508-634-7582 or bbenson@wickedlocal.com.

"People with disabilities are the largest minority," Carr said. "This is a great intervention in their life."

Milford schools Superintendent Robert Tremblay said the program shows the importance of work experience for students with or without disabilities.

"It's a good lesson for (the district)," Tremblay said. "I thank you for providing this for us and leading the way."

Since she started in September, Carco has gone from a shy girl to someone who can interact with and working alongside co-workers who are not disabled, said her mother, Michelle Bonati.

"I cannot tell you how proud I am of my daughter," Bonati said. "Everyone has watched her come out of her shell."



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Shifting gears on drivers' education

  • Article by: JEFF STRICKLER
  • Star Tribune
  • March 6, 2012 - 2:41 PM
  • http://www.startribune.com/printarticle/?id=141595853

Like many young men counting down the days until they can drive, David Hastings has March 15 circled in red: It's the day he takes his behind-the-wheel driver's test. Is he confident he'll pass the test? "Yes, I am," he announced firmly.

Hastings had to master more than the usual challenges to get to this point. For one thing, he's 22, not 16. And he has autism.

Traditional driver's education classes haven't worked well for him.

But now that he's studying to be a graphic designer, he figures he needs a car for independence. He's determined that his form of autism, Asperger's, won't stop him from achieving either goal.

"It's an integral step to his becoming independent," said his father, Tom Hastings, who agreed that David needed to get his driver's license. "Initially he wasn't interested in driving. But he's gotten to the age where he realizes that in another year, he's going to graduate and, hopefully, get a job, and he needs to be able to get where he needs to go."

Hastings is a graduate of Courage Center's driving program. He tried taking a regular driver's ed course, but he struggled with it. "The guy couldn't tell me what I was doing wrong," he said.

That news of a communication problem didn't surprise Connie Shaffer, director of the Golden Valley center's program, which deals with students facing a wide range of physical and developmental issues. People with learning disabilities often need a different form of instruction, she said.

"You can't just say, 'Go up to the corner and make a right turn,'" she said. People with autism "don't process information the same way.

"You have to identify the steps and break them down: You tell them at what point to slow down, at what point to turn the wheel, at what point to turn the wheel back again and at what point to accelerate again. It's a different form of task analysis."

Larry Sjerven is executive director of Twin Cities-based Adaptive Experts, a for-profit driving program. Like Shaffer, he is both a certified occupational therapist and a state-licensed driving instructor.

"I have to wear both hats," he said. "First, I'm a therapist. I have to figure out what I can do to minimize a student's disabilities. Once I've done that, I can relate to them as a driving instructor."

The decision on whether to let offspring get behind the wheel can be difficult for parents, even under the best circumstances. Add the variable of a special-needs situation, and it becomes exponentially harder, Shaffer said. The decision ultimately involves many factors, from problem-solving ability, distractibility and decision-making to physical attributes, including maturity level, coordination and reaction time.

"We have to look at each person individually," she said.

If there is one universal factor, it's that learning-disabled students typically fare better if they're older than their counterparts.

"They tend to be delayed in the maturation process," she said. "They haven't participated in group social interactions as much. The person needs to be emotionally and cognitively ready" to drive. "If they're a little older, they've had more time to get life experiences."

The first step in both the Courage Center and Adaptive Experts programs is an assessment of the would-be drivers to make sure they have the wherewithal to maintain control of a vehicle. In addition to tests conducted in an office, Courage Center puts the would-be drivers in a car -- in its parking lot, not on a street -- to see if they grasp the concept of driving.

"I've had people drive straight for a telephone pole because they're watching a squirrel," Shaffer said. "We need to assess their ability to stay on task."

About 80 percent of the youngsters who go through the assessment move on to lessons, but Shaffer said that number is skewed as a result of parents not bringing in children who lack the concentration needed to drive.

"Most parents know" whether their child is a viable candidate for driving, she said. "On occasion we have parents who don't want to see the disability, but for the most part, it's a question of whether their child is ready or not."

The programs tend to be open-ended, Sjerven said. The state requires six hours of behind-the-wheel training, but that often isn't enough in these cases.

"You can't just say, 'You've met the requirement for your white card,' which certifies that you've had the six hours of training," he said. "If I'm not comfortable that the student can take the road test without a good chance of passing it, I won't sign off on the release form."

Shaffer agreed that flexibility is a cornerstone of the program.

"Sometimes they'll take a few lessons and then we'll tell them to go work on that for several months and then call us back," she said. "You just have to give them more time. It can take some people years."

It's not unusual to spend $1,500 or more on the lessons. For that reason alone, instructors focus on making each session count. And their success rate is impressive: 95 percent of the students who go through the Courage Center program eventually get their licenses, Shaffer said.

Which is not to say that they all pass the road test the first time they take it. But when they fail, it's usually for the same reasons that other students do.

"They get nervous and make silly mistakes," Shaffer said. "When you tell them what they did wrong, they say, 'Oh, yeah, I knew that.'"

Matthew Doble, who has problems with attention-deficit disorder, struggled so much with the written test -- he needed to take it six times before he passed -- that he lost interest in further training. But when the 18-year-old got a job offer 10 days ago, he became so focused on getting his license that he took three behind-the-wheel lessons from Courage Center last week.

"I'd love to get it done," he said. "I'm pretty excited about the job, but I need a way to get to work. I'd like to know that I have my freedom. I want to be able to do stuff without always asking for a ride."

For Tom Hastings, having David get a license will mean that his son has taken another step toward self-sufficiency.

"I don't consider myself old," the 64-year-old said, "but I do realize that I'm not going to be around forever."

Instructor Steve Quinn is as confident as David is about his chances of passing.

"We've been working together since July," he said. "He's really open about taking suggestions. I'm optimistic, but if he doesn't make it, we'll just try again."