Special Education

Being a class teacher has many ups and downs. Last year, I had a student named Brian (siou, I have to use a pseudonym) who is special. When I first met him, he seemed normal. But, after I asked him to read a short, simple sentence in their literature book, he can’t. He appears to be in his own world most of the time, sometimes he talks and laughs to himself. He has his own repetitive routines, he was able to write his own name, but he was unable to catch up with the curriculum. He’s not bonkers, or stupid, he has autism.

I had quite a challenge with him. Once, he ran off to hide under a staircase because a student made fun of him. I didn’t realise he was hiding until a student pointed out that he was actually under the staircase, instead of being absent. I went to get him, to coax him gently to enter the class. He ran off and went straight home. But, there are times when he saw me and he would immediately enter the class without any resistance. There are many other events that transpired between Brian, his classmates and me (and other teachers). I recalled one day, he was in a very good mood and he patted everyone at the back. Once, during assembly, he hid in the classroom and as the others sang the national anthem, he was caught dancing and prancing in his own imaginary world. Regardless of that, he was never a nuisance.

I met with the parents last year to discuss about Brian’s learning condition. To me and my school bosses, it’s better for Brian to be schooled in a special school not because we can’t handle him, but it’s for his own good. Brian needs an environment where he can learn freely without being subjected to a curriculum that is rigid for a boy with his condition. The students can be mean to him and might trigger an anxiety attack which would lead him to destroy property. He might even injure himself or others if he was continuously provoke. He needs special teachers to cater his needs as an autistic child, and after he has been rehabilitated, he can enter mainstream schools like a normal student. It sounds cruel, but seeing Brian struggling with his learning and environment, I do think that  it is best if he entered a special school. But, for reasons I don’t know what, Brian is still in our school and I often hear other teachers expressing concern over his education.

This year, I didn’t teach his class and the responsibility of being his class teacher went to another colleague of mine. But, yesterday, his father called me and asked for my help to write a report on his behaviour. I thought it was for medical reasons, as I knew that Brian and his father have been visiting the hospital. But it wasn’t. It was because his father wanted to use that report as a valid reason for a transfer.

His father’s words still rang in my ears. He told me of his predicament, of how he wanted to bring his family to come with him to his new working place. He went to a school there to ask whether he could register Brian there. This was what the “teacher” told him:

“Kasi biar seja bah anak kau sana. Tu cikgu-cikgu dia tau sudah bah keadaan dia. Bagus lagi dia di sana.”

I felt angry hearing those insensitive comments. It sounds like they don’t want to be associated with him. To me, as teachers, it is our duty to accept and educate a child, regardless of his or her circumstances. I was moved with pity and together with Brian’s new class teacher, we wrote a report about his behaviour.

As we wrote our report, we felt guilty. As each word were typed, we felt as if we were judging him, condemning him for being an autistic. But at the end of the day, this task has to be done – for Brian to continue his education in our school and for his father to be transferred back near his family.

I wonder if Brian would ever be treated for his autism. I want him to be able to learn like the other students. I want him to lead a normal life despite having autism. I guess, for Brian, me and his class teacher, the challenge is still on. This will never stop until the people surrounding Brian be given an education on autism and autistic children.

God, help us.

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