
Just back from day two at the school for the differently abled. The art work went approximately according to plan and I managed to cope - just. I find the way some of the children scream and cry as if from fear or pain very distressing.
There was the odd the smile or even laugh from others as they got to grips with rubbing the Markal crayon over the lumpy, bumpy silver fish. Crayon manipulation was a three person job. The care worker would be restraining the child's uncontrollable movements while I held the child's hand on the crayon and moved it back on forth. It was a bit like that game where y

ou all pile your hands one on top of the other and at one point the care worker was clutching onto my wrist for grim death and holding my hand down by mistake.
The ambulant children were able to sponge paint over my seascape masks. Bizarrely the tape ripped off a lot more successfully from one end than from the other. Something to do with the nap of the paper I think. One of the boys was into the string fishing line idea and happily splashed away while it gave his buddie a screaming fit of the horrors and he stayed with the collaged fish. It was just all too messy for the third child who just can't bare his hands to be dirty.
One older autistic girl was very distressed to have been taken out of her regular class and brought to the art room. She made straight for a bottle of blue paint I had foolishly left with the top off and poured it all over the floor.
What can I tell you? It's been a HUGE learning experience for me but for now I've had to back off. This is the school my late daughter went to and part of the reason for me being there is to try and learn a bit about her. Today they told me she was happy, loved music and looked just like me which made me cry.