Working at the School for Mentally Challenged Children

When I first visited the School, I was first struck by the size of it, at nearly 10 times the size of the school I taught in up north in Himachal Pradesh. Also, the children’s challenges range from mild autism, to sever brain damage causing both mental and physical problems.

While walking around and meeting the classes, we were suppose to be finding a group where our abilities would be best suited. I met a great group of 6 young lads, aged between 13 and 18 who were classed together as "Dumb"- unable to speak, for various reasons.

(I should point out here that political correctness does not exist in the Indian institutions we are working in- spastic, dumb, retard, crazy, and psycho are all phrases banded about without malice by the teachers and assistants working here)

The lads do not have a regular teacher, and on that day (and most days) they have no teacher at all- they just scribble in their books, or sit there bored. This upset me, as the lads are perfectly capable of learning at a suitable level for their age, as seen in their books showing previous volunteers work. So I told the head teacher I wanted to teach them, he said fine, and the next day I was ready to start.

Only the next day the head teacher put me in the severely retarded children instead- where I got pissed on, hit, pulled, pinched, snotted on and screamed at (actually not unlike a bad Friday night shift back home).

But if I'm honest- it's been great work actually.

The kids are between 6 and 10 years old, classed together according to their IQ, the highest belonging to 9 year old Flavia at 60, and the lowest 20. A few of the kids have been diagnosed with cerebral palsy, autism and downs syndrome, but the rest are so far undiagnosed, and are referred to as simply retarded or brain damaged.

My original lesson plans, involving teaching aids such as bingo cards, snap, etc go out the window, as it's soon apparent just maintaining the children’s welfare takes most of my time and effort.

For example Clecy often takes to forcefully headbutting the marble floors of the classroom, only causing bruised lumps if caught in time, but open bleeding head wounds if not. She does this about the same time Olwen tries to stab Rishikesh with a pencil he's took from someone’s bag, and Vijayish usually chooses this time to give it legs, out the classroom and onto the road, while Stephen starts to choke on his own vomit- though he can do so on someone else’s, a far more complex situation I wont describe here.

I'm not exaggerating or taking the piss- This happened just last Friday, and usually their teacher Golda is on her own, trying to keep things together and provide some part of the one-on-one care these children really need.

So more often than not, we take turns- I'll cuddle, spin, tickle and generally give affectionate attention to little Clecy, which in turn keeps her safe and happy while Golda gives simple exercises to the others. Then we swap, and I'll get them, one at a time (there is no other way) to make a contribution towards a big picture or collage.

You see teaching, in the traditional sense, is not really possible with these children. Improving their manual dexterity and their understanding of what they are doing and the world around them is more useful and attainable. For example one of the children cannot speak or hold a pen, so plowing into the alphabet and 9 times tables would be a little ambitious.

I try to give each child an activity on the poster according to their ability, at least as best as possible i.e Flavia can colour-in, so she colours in the flowers. Vijayish can glue (with assistance), so he sticks on the grass, and so on.

Originally my approach to these kids was one of big, stupid, fluffy grins and a "hey little guy, lets do some work" approach... So they naturally see me (and all the volunteers who come here past and present) as the big stupid lump we are who they can walk all over.

And they do!

For example, Vijayish has never stabbed his teacher with a pencil (he dare not). But without fail, he will go for anyone with white skin because he finds the response hilarious, with all the gentle pushing and polite pleading such as:

"Oh, er, no, er, please dont, I say, Ow! That's not nice, do stop... no,... OW!, Now then!, stop it!... be a good boy, that's it... OW!!"

I was exactly the same the first time. I mean- how do you effectively defend yourself against a mentally challenged 8 year old with malnutrition, without risking hurting him, and thus instantly becoming a bully. Without doubt, the super-fit, 20 year old Kiwi and sultry Swedish girls who also volunteer at the school would go nuts if I hurt the little fella! I'd never live it down back at the Idex office- and who the hell wants 30 odd women all mad at him at once? (Especially when they are all young and cute...)

So the next day, I was sure to shut the classroom door behind me first.

He went for me, specially sharpened HB pencil in hand, so I quickly dropped him, disarmed him, flipped him in the chair and forced him into colouring (with a nice, soft crayon) before he had time to properly scream...

"Good boy, excellent, well done!" I cooed, a hand clamped around his crayon hand to help him as he stared at me, frozen in utter shock at what had just taken place. For a moment I was worried as he stared at me, bottom lip quivering... But his mind seemingly made up, his face cracked into a big smile, before focusing on his new-found colouring, his hand moving faster as he really got into it.

We're best mates now, and he hugs me every morning when he sees me, and when music plays, he always takes my hands and starts to boogie, laughing (understandably) at my dancing efforts, like a chicken plugged into the mains.

Slowly, the other kids have also accepted me, and together we have got good games of catch going on during sports (important in developing hand-eye co-ordination and gross motor skills), relay races through hoops etc. We have also just finished a great collage of a sparkly-sunflower, surrounded by other different colored flowers in a grassy field.

We're currently working on a beach scene, using real sand and sea-shells Golda and I have collected. Golda sets simple exercises in the kids books, such as join the dots, and while she keeps hold of Clecy and deals with the runners, vomiters and stabbers (Olwen, who impervious to pressure points, still wrestles with me over the odd HB) I go from student to student. After tiffin (lunch break) we swap roles.

This one-on-one attention the kids so desperately need, improving their fine motor skills with exercises such as colouring-in, gluing etc, and generally interacting with someone and keeping their minds working, rather than being ignored like they are outside of the classroom.


"We cannot teach these children normally, it is not possible" Golda once said to me, "But we can make their lives better, no?"

That's indeed what she does, and it's been a privilege to help her.