Well, that didn't sound quite right

Part 2

Esteban was a tall, handsome kindergartner on the autism spectrum. He had an extremely high energy level, and almost no impulse control. He would enter the classroom like a whirlwind: art projects blew off the walls, and books would fall from the shelves, even if he came nowhere near them. He was a five-year-old force of nature.

On the playground, we often had to ask Esteban to come sit on a bench with a teacher for a few minutes, so he could take his (generally) good-natured exuberance down a notch and focus on making a better choice. Or at least a choice that didn’t directly endanger himself or innocent bystanders.

So we might say something like, “The rule is, up the ladder and down the slide,” or, “The rule is, wait in line with my hands to myself.” Esteban would repeat, “Up the ladder, down the slide,” and return to play, hopefully remembering to follow “the rule.”

We were rather shocked when Esteban began repeating, “Son of a bitch!” His family seemed patient and loving, and since their home language was Spanish, it seemed unlikely that Esteban had heard that phrase at home.

One morning at recess, Esteban had attempted to push past several children who were ahead of him on the playground structure, and my teaching assistant called his name.

“Son of a bitch!” Esteban replied, as he descended to the ground and walked to the closest bench.

Suddenly it became clear: What we had been hearing as “Son of a bitch” was Esteban’s approximation of “Sit on the bench.”

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Rory was a new student who was very excited to learn about everything in our classroom. He would ask, “What’s that? What’s that Lego toy? What’s that toy truck? What’s that window? What’s that music?”

One afternoon, he asked, “What’s those bitches?”

Um, what?

Pointing at the classroom aquarium, he repeated, “Those bitches!!! What’s those bitches in the water?!?”

“Rory, those are FISHES in the water.”

Relieved that I had understood him, he answered, “Yes, THOSE bitches!!! What’s those bitches in the water????”

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Every day, we individualized tasks for our students. Often we incorporated activities that our occupational therapist suggested, to practice fine motor skills in an engaging way. One morning, Sally Ann was supposed to use tongs to pick up brightly colored pom poms and drop them into a container. Quickly finding the tongs to be an impediment, she threw them aside and began scooping the pom poms up with her hands. My teaching assistant returned the tongs to her and patiently explained, “Sally Ann, this is not supposed to be a hand job.”