Today put the "learning" in "service learning"

Today was my third visit to Mensajeros de la Paz, and it was tough. I went for a couple of hours on Monday as well, and found that each of the kids was totally different. Theresa was very difficult--I think she was starting to catch a cold, and spent a lot of time pointing at her neck and frowning. I also discovered that she does not mind very well, and makes an earth-shattering scream when told "no." Nevertheless, she is still proving to be helpful. Maria was using some different phrases, many of which I couldn't decipher. She was still her smiling self, though. Pancho and Mariela were pretty calm, surprisingly. My question about how/when Pancho eats was answered--we fed him lunch with the other kids. It's a pretty difficult process, because if he's stirred up he shakes his head from side to side and arches his back. It's quite possible that more of the food ended up on the floor than in his mouth. We're learning more than they are!

TODAY... I spent a good 2 1/2 hours at the park with Theresa and Maria, which was great. Maria was very content on the swings for a long time, and Theresa spent most of the morning digging around in the cracks of the pavement. She seems to be fascinated by the garbage in the park--she picks up every piece of everything, and often puts things in her mouth. I'm working on a strategy to cut back on the mouth part, partly just because it makes my gag reflex extra sensitive, and also because it's probably not a good idea to put someone's old sucker stick in one's mouth! "No" doesn't cut it with her, and her reaction to physical restrainment is so abrasive that it scares me. She has a scream/grunt/yell that is unbelievable, and I'm trying to avoid it when I can. Carmen and Theresa (the women who live in the apartment) told me to to give her a strong "no," but she's not responding to me yet. We'll see.

Lindsey came after her class at about 11:30 and we took the kids back to the house to rest and play. Melena, Theresa's daughter, has been home sick all week, so we played with her toys the rest of the afternoon. Melena is a very sweet little girl, and I think she's pretty bright. She's quick to pick up on jokes and is great for playing pretend. It breaks my heart, however, to see how she interacts with the other children. She is already aware that they are different than she is, and I suspect she's picked up on the way the adults treat the children and has learned to mimic them. Melena pulls away when they try to touch her, she orders them around like she does her dolls, and otherwise acts as if they aren't in the room. She's only 4 years old, so my heart wants her to play with them like peers and be more patient than the adults, but it just isn't so. I'm new at this and don't know what's best, but I hope I can set a different kind of example for her as to how to interact with the other children. I'll be slow to believe that yelling and scolding are the best ways to communicate, and ignoring them until they're doing something wrong is going to teach them how to behave. I am new at this.

The hardest part about today was that I felt like each of these children is miserable far too often, and the world has too narrow a view of who is normal and capable and worthwhile and productive. We work so hard to define what is the best way to be and look and live, and we end up making it virtually impossible to live up to our expectations. I understand very well that our definitions and goals have a purpose, but why aren't we more creative in using the skills that we DO have, especially when we are lacking in others?

Pancho was pretty riled up today, and lashed out at me several times. My left eyebrow is a little tender. Our service learning director, Monica, told us that he has been diagnosed at autistic. We have a meeting with the director of Mensajeros and a doctor on Wednesday to discuss some options and ask questions... I'm looking forward to that. I'd like to know each of their stories and get some professional suggestions about what kinds of things we can be working on, and what sort of things to look out for. It may be impossible, but I would give anything for Pancho to have a peaceful day. Using my very narrow interpretation of the world and our emotions, I feel like he's angry and trapped and constantly crying for help. He'll reach his hand out to me and look me right in the eyes, and I feel like he's just happy to hold hands and be out of his room for a while. And then, almost instantly, his eyes dart and he starts breathing heavily and he'll swing at me with the other hand. I guess I just want to love him and have everything be easy, but our situation is way too complicated. I'd take a thousand black eyes for a hug from that kid.