Autism-World

It is the middle of a lesson in the classroom at Greenbriar Public School in Brampton, and the boys, aged 12 to 14, take turns jumping on the trampoline in between listening to their teacher.

“It releases tension,” teacher Carole Ann MacDonald says matter-of-factly, as she surveys a classroom that also includes terrariums, a beanbag chair, a sectional couch and, most importantly, three teaching assistants and a teacher for just nine students.

Ms. MacDonald knows, perhaps more than most, the need for an autistic child to have a release from the structure of a school day.

When she was a bit younger than these students, she was labelled “retarded” and severely disabled, and required a team of private tutors to get her through school. It was not until her final year of teacher’s college, three years ago, that she was diagnosed with Asperger’s, a form of autism.

Ms. MacDonald is considered by autism experts such as Dr. Kevin Stoddart to be among the highest functioning cases of Asperger’s. She does not shake hands obsessively or have any noticeable physical tics. Her unusualness manifests itself in a way that is difficult to pinpoint.

In the classroom, where other teachers might give harsh words when students misbehave — the boys on this particular day were eating, pacing the room and talking out of turn –Ms. MacDonald laughs.

Her laughter, punctuated by bursts of “ha” and her patient repetition of instructions, somehow diffuses the boys’ frustrations to communicate. Inappropriate reactions, such as laughter, are among the traits that define Asperger’s, which is a difficult disorder to diagnose.

The logistics of handling a busy day on a rotary teaching schedule is a challenge for someone with autism, who prefers order and structure.

“There are so many transitions all in one day. I teach science, then I switch to math, then I have to switch to drama and then I have to switch to teaching language,” says Ms. MacDonald in one breath. “I rely a lot on the teaching assistants for support and understanding–[they] have no problem telling me, ‘You need to switch subjects and keep focused.’ “

It has taken Ms. MacDonald two decades to try to understand what made her different.

“The testing process was difficult, explains Ms. MacDonald, “It’s not like you walk through the door and you are diagnosed. It mainly comes from a feeling inside — that you know you are different from other people and you want to find out why.

“Obtaining my diagnosis involved a long process of looking into my family history and by the time they told me I had Asperger’s, I already knew.”

She found the label empowering. As for her students, “Some people say we shouldn’t label kids because ‘kids are not jam,’ but I disagree. Without the labels, my pupils wouldn’t get the right placement or funding.”

Like a typical Asperger’s person, Ms. MacDonald has no qualms talking openly about her personal life, even in class.

“Boys, I know what it’s like to be suspended from school. I know what it’s like to fail math class,” she tells them. “I used to forget my tuba and was always late for school. It’s OK. When you get to high school, cling to the smart kids in class. That’s what I did.”

She explains her candour with her students this way: “Kids need to know if a teacher is gay or disabled so they can have role models to identify with.”

When she applied for her job, straight out of teacher’s college, she already had an impeccable resume, which included master’s-level courses from York University, but what won her the job was a sense that she offered “this sort of ‘other’ dimension to her understanding of the students,” says Pat Lewis, the school’s principal.

Brooks Masterson, a school psychologist, said that people with Asperger’s are known for not understanding other people’s views, because they lack a pragmatic language. “But as a teacher, Ms. MacDonald conveys empathy and enthusiasm. She is an advocate for them and experiences what they go through.”

Social worker Barbara McFarlane, who worked with Ms. MacDonald last year, can offer some insight into why her teaching method works so well: “Us outsiders would see a child’s ignoring instructions as a weakness. Carole Ann is able to get in touch with them and recognize when a child does not understand instructions.”

She said that it is through Ms. MacDonald’s work that “these kids have risen from the bottom of the totem pole to the top of the educational system. In some cases they are functioning at a higher level than the mainstream students.”

Ms. MacDonald’s mother, Pam, a Newmarket business woman, says her daughter has been so focused from a very early age.

“It was almost as if Carole Ann had an innate sense of what she needed in order to succeed, and an unstoppable determination to obtain it,” says her mom. “If she was quiet, you knew she was taking something apart. She seemed to have no fear. I always thought she was just a very active child. I have subsequently learned that autistic children don’t understand non-verbal cues, and need things explained very clearly; they can make inappropriate comments, and almost shut down in stressful situations.”

Admittedly, Ms. MacDonald says, some educational staff might think her teaching concepts are strange, especially since previous teachers in the class spent their time preventing injury from outbursts or meltdowns.

“Some teachers told me that I should give my students the basic life skills in the hopes that one day they could be a cashier at Wal-Mart. I tell my students that they are not going to Wal-Mart. They are going to college and university,” she says.

“Now we even have students in our class attending the gifted classes at the school.”

Today, more than 19 families are on a waiting list to put their child in Greenbriar’s autism class. One family even moved from Saskatchewan to get a placement.

“I tell the kids and parents that I have Asperger’s,” Ms. MacDonald says. “The parents look relieved.”

This entry was posted on Friday, May 18th, 2007 at 1:29 pm and is filed under Autism research.