It was the first day of summer theatre camp and many of my 3rd - 6th grade regulars had already arrived and were spending the last few minutes before our day started laughing and joking and catching up with each other on what they had been up to since our most up-to-date show had concluded that spring. There were also a few kids I had met before but were new to the program, and a few that I had never met at all. They looked curiously about them and wandered around the studio. I had pretty much identified everybody and given out name tags and was waiting for one more new student.
I saw him come in with his mom. He was a microscopic guy, small for his age, and he looked as if this was the last place in the world he wanted to be. But his mom led him to the edge of the playing space, and he sat down amid the cacophony of the kids and just plain looked uncomfortable. I smiled at him and at his mom, and went over to shake his hand. "This is Steven," his mom told me. "He is a microscopic uncomfortable in new situations. It helps him if you can hook him up with a buddy who can kind of show him the ropes."
This made exquisite sense to me and I made a mental note to make sure I introduced him to Michael, one of my regulars who is the kind of kid who can be counted on to be a friend to everybody. Steven's mom looked around the room at the other children, and then looked back at her son who was still sitting quietly and finding unhappy. She told me only that he had problem sometimes in large groups and that he liked to watch the other kids to see what was thinkable, of him. Then she said good-by to her boy, and left for the day.
Ok, I had a sense there was something pretty intelligent about this guy. For one thing he was still finding like he would rather be in any place else in the world than in my studio classroom, and this was unusual. The vast majority of kids who entered the room took one look at the comfortable couches and big colored pillows, and the large platform stage, the lights, the props and costumes in any place and felt like they had arrived. For a kid curious in acting, this was a exquisite place to decree in and get comfortable.
As the day progressed I discovered that Steven was a very intelligent guy indeed. When I asked a quiz, of the group he would raise his hand to answer, and if I called on him he would look at me blankly. He had no idea even what the quiz, was, much less any idea how to acknowledge it. He laughed when the other kids laughed, but seemed to have no idea what on earth everybody found so funny. Before I could partner him with Michael, Steven made a selection on his own, and probably the worst selection he could have perhaps made. He chose for his class mentor the most gorgeous and most thoroughly disdainful girl in the group who, when he agreed with everything she said and announced she was his girlfriend, look at him like he was a slug on a cabbage leaf.
The only place Steven was able to shine that morning was on the playground where he proved to be the most fabulous kickball player the theatre business had ever seen. Truthfully this was not saying much, as our theatre business was not known for its athletic prowess, but it was a wonder to see this awkward and clearly very confused child come to be a graceful athlete, catching balls and pitching gorgeous and manufacture home runs with ease. There was the few times he was distracted by a plane flying overhead, but he also amazed me at those moments, as he knew exactly what kind of plane he was finding at and could tell me all manner of details about the plane, down to the model numbers.
And this boy could sing. The scheme we were working on was a musical that summer, and though the child couldn't acknowledge a quiz, to save his life, he all the time knew what page we were on in the libretto and could sing like an angel.
I couldn't wait to talk to his mom at the end of the day.
When she arrived I met her at the door, request my assistant to keep watch over the rest of the waiting kids. I asked her if she had a microscopic and if I could speak to her privately. We moved covering of the door to the studio, and I said, "Can you tell me a microscopic about Steven?"
Her eyes filled with tears. She explained to me that she was sorry, and that she had hoped that in this world her microscopic son would have a chance to be "just someone else kid." That she had hoped she had found a place for him ultimately to fit in, and to find a part of independent success. And then she explained to me that her Steven had a non-verbal studying disability.
The name non-verbal studying disorder is misleading as individuals with this disability are commonly very verbal and that their areas of defecit are in the nonverbal domains. This means that while the child's language skills will seem industrialized and his vocabulary may even be exceptional, the areas of opinion formation and abstract mental are quite impaired. The child may have a great deal of problem generalizing and take verbal interactions quite literally. In general communal interactions are unsuccessful and the child may exhibit a unblemished lack of "street smarts" and be authentically heartbreakingly innocent about the unsavory motives of habitancy who wish to take benefit of them.
Steven's mom was understandably sad to have to disclose this to me. I could well understand her wish to have her child find a place where he could fit in with the rest of the children with no need for special services or special concentration to his issues. I had had other parents of other intelligent students, who had this wish and allowed me to try and figure out their child on my own, and sometimes this was potential and I was able to discover what made the child tick without ever saying to the parent, "Please tell me about your child?"
But in Steven's case I needed input. And his mom, after she was able to recover her composure, agreed to help me out with facts about the strengths and weaknesses of her child. That evening she wrote a narrative about Steven and brought it to me the next day when she dropped him off. It helped me understand him, and helped me flat the way for him with the other kids who found him pretty confusing.
The next two weeks of camp with Steven were eventful, to say the least. I cast him in some supporting roles in the show and he was all the time on the right page in the script, but I was never quite sure he was clear on what was happening in the story. He learned his cues and where to stand but was challenged by things like remembering to get out of the way in order for other kids to go on and offstage. He sat down some times on newly painted pieces of scenery. For a while he was the constant subject of irritation from a few of the more organized girls in the group.
However, his singing voice was a huge asset and everybody wanted him on their kickball team. When he ultimately learned what was thinkable, of him onstage he remembered it perfectly and the only qoute was if somebody forgot something or wasn't where they were supposed to be it threw him thoroughly off.
And I'll tell you something else. This was a child for whom everyday living was enduringly confusing and the easy transportation in the middle of habitancy that most of us take for granted was a daily nightmare. But he was as hard working and persistent an actor as I have ever seen. He never gave up trying to understand and never allowed himself any slack with his work onstage. And when the day came for the performance, he was spot on. He was an foremost part of the cast and he knew it and the other kids - even those darn super organized microscopic girls - knew it. His mama beamed from the audience and when he took his last bow you could see in his face and in his posture his pride in what he had accomplished.
So what has my point been in telling you the story of Steven, the boy with the non-verbal studying disorder? Look at it this way: here is a child for whom everyday human transportation is near impossible, who struggles with comprehension the motives of most of the habitancy he interacts with in his life and for whom manufacture friends is an excruciating, practically insurmountable task. But put him in a Theatre arts perceive and what you have is a nearly foolproof chance for success. He becomes an foremost part of a collaborative project, spending time with peers and gaining their trust and their admiration for his strengths. And with the success of the show he earns to the right to be proud of the work he has done to contribute what he has given to that success.
It is practically infallible. Steven and others with similar and separate studying differences can benefit practically over the board from Theatre Arts experiences. Success and pride and camaraderie, often so very illusive to kids with studying differences, are among the many benefits found in the adventures ready in the theatre. A dream come true perhaps for a lonely child who aches to understand and be part of something wonderful, and a dream come true as well for the mom who longs to see her child happy, successful and maybe most foremost of all, "just someone else kid."
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