I am working with a 16 year old girl named Jenna for the summer. Jenna has autism, is nonverbal, and is mentally handicapped. I work with her M-F for eight hours a day (Originally I was working 9 and a half hour days, but my hours got cut a bit).
Working with Jenna this summer has definitely not been what I thought it was going to be--which is a blessing in many ways and a struggle in others. Originally I was a little concerned I would get bored quickly- 9 and a half hours days are long days when you are with only one other person for their entirety. It's safe to say in this case I was wrong; very wrong.
Jenna definitely keeps me busy and on my toes the entire time I am there. We spend most of it doing crafts, puzzles, playing games, and working on simple things like making meals, doing laundry, and going to stores to work on things like waiting in line.
The first 9 days were probably the hardest. The first day went great, but every day after that things seemed to be going downhill quickly. Avalanche quickly. At the end of the week I was exhausted and Jenna's mom was commenting on how tired I looked. Not exactly what I wanted to be hearing at the time.
The second week was also difficult- it seemed like the more I went the more Jenna came to dislike me and the more discouraged I became. Most of the week I left in tears. Trust me- hearing "shooo" "go home" and "go away" for hours on end gets to you after a while.
It was the Thursday of the second week that Jenna and I experienced our first major breakthrough; and she was happy, no excited, when I got there. As soon as I walked in the door she was literally jumping up and down wanting to tell me something.
The way Jenna and I communicate is interesting. It is a mix of sign language, what words Jenna can speak, and the words that come out of my mouth. For the most part we can now understand each other. I've learned how sounds she makes mean certain words- for example she makes a specific sound that means grandpa (but doesn't sound like grandpa at all). But that morning, she was wanting to tell me something. The trick that morning was figure out exactly what it was. Turns out she had seen a bird in the bird feeder we had made. It's the baby steps friends. Baby steps.
That day Jenna and I bonded. And since then things have been going great. That's not to say we don't have our moments because we certainly do. That's not to say Jenna doesn't occasionally tell me to go away or shoo and that's not to say that I haven't left with tears in my eyes. But- it's the little things that count:
- It's her laughing at me when I accidentally spill glue on the table
- It's her jumping up and down because she's excited to tell me something
- It's seeing the look of pure and simple joy on her face when she completes a big project- like a popsicle house
- It's hearing her mom tell me Jenna's always so excited to show her what she's made that day over and over again
- It's the progress Jenna's made in waiting in lines
- It's how she laughs when she finishes a puzzle or wins a set in a matching game
It's these little things that make all the frustrating times so incredibly worth it.
When I worked with Jacob, laughter was a part of our routine. Jacob laughed at just about anything.
It wasn't until I started working with Jenna that I realized how amazing and wonderful it is to hear a laugh.
Those first few days I didn't hear Jenna laugh. I didn't really realize until she did it how desperately I needed to hear it. Now, I start off the day trying to get her laughing. It makes all the difference.
I guess this post is kind of all over the place. But if there is one thing I want you to take away from this post, it's this.
Children, teens, and adults with autism desperately long for their worlds to make sense. Our job is to love them and care for them exactly the way they are and to help them make sense of the world in whatever way they can, all the while showing them God's love.
It's life changing.
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