Special Needs Children
February 16, 2007
Earlier today I had a performance at a school for children with “Special Needs.” It’s a tricky term that has come to encompass a wide range of issues from “At Risk” youth to children suffering from Autism or mental/physical challenges.
One of the questions that I always ask when I am going to perform at a school whose students are majority “Special Needs,” is what is it that they mean by special needs. I have walked into classrooms of special needs children where, out of 25 students, 20 of them were young African-American males diagnosed ADD or ADHD. I have walked into a classroom of special needs children to discover some were autistic, some dealing with cerebral palsy and many others suffering from different types of birth defects. For this reason, I always ask.
This morning I was being preped by the principal to expecct a crowd who might not be very attentive. I simply smiled. There are keys to working with special needs children; one of which is to forget about the term “Special Needs” and all of the baggage it carries with it.
I assured the principal that everything was going to be alright. She seemed to cautiously accept my optimistic demeanor and consoling words.
I chose to make an entrance as opposed to be sitting in the room as they were ushered in. I also consciously chose to lower the volume of the microphones and amplifiers, putting them down low, very low. For the robes, I wore a bright, inviting, earth tone color (green). The song I chose to serenade them with was a traditional song called “Kaira.” Kaira means peace in Maninka and Bamanakan; it is a very soothing song, played slowly it is reminiscent of a baby’s lullaby. My intention was to use this song to book end the program.
I won’t go into detail about the performance but I have to say that it was the staff that aided in its’ success. The staff totally bought into the event and aided in call/response chants that I taught them. With the staff modeling the behavior that I needed it was smooth sailing to elicit smiles and moans from many of the nonverbal children. Eye contact was at a premium which was an added benefit. I fused the story with the song and music, not stopping the performance.
I eliminated the stage and chose a close proximity performance. I spent all of my time in the audience, among the children. I allowed their eye contact, or avoidance, to dictate my movements. Some of their eyes were calling for me to visit their area, others were directing me not to. In the end both camps seemed pleased as was evidenced by the number that approached me following the show.
I have to say that this experience was truly magical for me. It is a wonderful feeling to exercise one’s craft and receive as much as you give. These children were very affirming.
I left this performance feeling better than I’ve felt in a long time. I felt like we had truly communicated and the children had affirmed my purpose for being a storyteller.
I entered this performance with an idea that was confirmed. For me, it is the idea that the soul does not know age, physical disability or socio/economic status.
I love my work and wake up every morning kissing the air I breath with a gentle thank you. A reminder that I have awakened one more time and have the potential to do so again. What I do with the time between each of these mornings is a key to living a fulfilling life. These children helped me to remember this.
This is why I do what I do.
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