by Missy Tijerina
(Editor's Note: I met Missy Tijerina on the ROP List, an electronic-mailing list where parents of preemies who are blind or visually impaired as a result of Retinopathy of Prematurity and some adults with ROP trade stories, support and information. I have "known" Daniel in that way since his earliest infancy and have listened as Missy shared her feelings about being the mother of a child who would never see, her worries about Daniel's food aversions, her jubilation about his first words, the successes he experienced with scleral shells, his first days at preschool, his first Halloween party when Missy sent photos of the cutest Halloween bat anyone on the list had ever seen. I am very pleased that Missy agreed to share her family's very positive experience with the UNLV nursery school program.)
Send my precious former 23-week premature miracle and now blind two-year-old son to preschool? What was I thinking? I must be crazy. There had to be another alternative. Surely I could find some caring person to watch my Daniel in her home while I went to work every day.
I was confronted with a true child care crisis when my son's in-home caregiver told me that she was moving out of state. I spent the next three months interviewing providers and visiting their homes. Many had reservations about watching a blind child, and no one seemed suitable to tackle the task at hand. What was I to do?
Fortunately, things seem to happen in very wonderful and mysterious ways for moms of preemies and special-needs children. I heard about a preschool program administered by the Department of Education at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas from another mom of a preemie. She had so many wonderful things to say and it sounded fantastic -- but would they be capable of working with my blind son, let alone accept him into the program? With school registration only a week away, I contacted the director of the program, Catherine Lyons, and explained my situation. She took a genuine interest in Daniel and seemed excited about welcoming him into the program. She explained that the school operated within a traditional classroom setting, with classroom teachers and university students who worked as teachers' aides.
Just thinking about my Daniel's first day at school, I was terrified! Would they be able to love and care for my precious baby? Or would he sit in a corner all day without anyone to hug him when he was upset? How would he be received by his classmates and the teacher? The questions kept me up all night. He was, after all, my miracle preemie and the most special thing that had ever happened in my life.
To help children adjust to the new environment, the school encourages parents to drop off their children and say a quick goodbye. Fortunately for me, Ms. Lyons understood my anxieties and allowed me to stay for a few hours with Daniel on his first day. Being a mom, I believed that my extended stay was for Daniel's benefit. Now, though, I realize that the exception was made to help me with my own transition! Daniel took so quickly to his classroom, the teacher, aides and his 12 new classmates. Within weeks he was doing and exploring so much. It seemed as if he was learning something new and wonderful on a daily basis. I discovered that my blind son can create the most magnificent works of art with finger paints. That he can ride a tricycle. That he enjoys making new friends. And that he loves to read books!
The year has flown by. Recently, I was surprised when I walked into Daniel's classroom to find all of the university student aides blindfolded and trying to play with the toys and books in the room. On the tables were the remnants of arts and crafts projects and ice cream melting. Daniel's teacher explained to me that she wanted to try to give the college students a little sample of what Daniel's everyday experiences were like. They were required to scoop ice cream from the container, put it in a bowl, pour chocolate sauce over it and eat it, do an arts and craft project and explore the classroom. At the end of the day they were asked to write about their experiences (not knowing that I would ever see a copy of what was written).
The teacher presented me with a copy of the pictures that were taken during that day and the stories that the college kids who work with Daniel on a daily basis had written. One particular story touched me deeply. There is a student aide named "Mr. Eric." Here is what he wrote:
"This past Thursday in the meeting, I learned a lot about myself and Daniel. At first I thought the whole activity would be fun and kind of silly. As time passed during the activity I slowly came to realize how hard it was for Daniel and how I take things for granted in my life. Though I feel bad for him, it is not good for us to baby Daniel because we have to get him ready for the world. The most that we can do is help by making him understand concepts, speaking to him and letting him do things independently. I truly love Daniel and want to help him in any way I can."
There were many other stories that shared similar feelings: realizations about how the aides needed to assist Daniel by explaining and describing things better and help him by teaching him independence. I remember how worried I was when I first enrolled Daniel in the preschool at UNLV. Now, my husband and I smile whenever we see a bumper sticker on a car that reads, "My son is an Honor Student at John Doe Elementary School." We keep saying that we need to get one that reads, "Our three-year-old attends the University of Nevada, Las Vegas."
Now I know that Daniel is in the perfect place.
CAPTIONS
Daniel dressed up as a bat for his first Halloween party at preschool. Here he looks ready to take off on another adventure with the help of his walker!
Eric is sitting on the floor next to another student who is playing with a doll, thinking that someone would bring him a toy to play with. After a few minutes, Missy said, he realized that if he wanted to play, he was going to have to get a toy for himself!
Eric (left) cautiously pours syrup over his bowl of ice cream.