“Heidi, Heidi, Heidi. No wait. Time out. It’s my turn to talk,” said Akash Patel, 8, an excitable, energetic 3rd-grader at Hynes Elementary School in Morton Grove, looking for a chance to explain certain dimensions of a book called “Toad and Frog Are Friends.”
Last year, at this time, things were notably different.
“Well, he was throwing things,” said teacher Susan Mies, describing how Patel acted out in her2nd-grade classroom. It was behavior not uncommon for youngsters blind from birth, as Patel has been, a way of venting frustration and discouragement.
Now, fingers flying, Patel can read Braille. He rides a tandem bike, enjoys yoga, swims and, as he announced proudly, “I can do `Bombs Away.”‘ That splashy entry into a pool off a diving board is known to older swimmers as “The Cannonball.”
What caused such a change in attitude?
For starters, his teachers, like Mies, stood by him. There was expert help from a vision specialist, a mobility trainer and from Donna Barlow, a special education teacher at Hynes.
But at the center of what might be called “The Turn-around of Akash Patel,” suggests Barlow, was “a wonderful relationship, one that involved friendship as well as mentoring.”
It was a fortuitous pairing, the linking of Patel with Heidi Musser, 33, also blind since birth. She has been his volunteer teacher for 12 months, meeting him four times a week at school for 90-minute sessions. They also get together, after school, for fun.
“She’s his friend,” notes Erika Musser, Heidi’s mother. “That’s why he learns so quickly.” And her daughter, she adds, has learned much from her pupil.
Many of the benefits, for both teacher and pupil, had to do with helping each other overcome one of the widespread curses of the late 20th Century–social isolation, an unfortunate fact of life that hits even harder at people with disabilities, especially the blind.
“I threw things, too,” admitted Heidi Musser, recalling her own early days in school when she often felt cut off, ignored and unable to interact with surrounding sighted society.
Much of her schooling was at home, after her parents, longtime residents of the Edgewater neighborhood, fought a declaration by the Chicago Public Schools system that had judged her, at age 7, to be mentally disabled, unsuitable for regular classes.
Later, at Northeastern Illinois University, where Musser graduated with a bachelor’s degree in music in 1996, she found little social interaction with other students, making for difficult days. But she did have a breakthrough–in sports.
An ardent swimmer, she met a lifeguard at the Northeastern pool who guided her through the Chicago Park District’s annual 2-mile fun swim in Lake Michigan. The first disabled participant in the event’s history, Musser found her spirits raised by the rush of attention.
She expanded her interests, becoming a triathlete.
She swam, with a coach beside her in the water shouting commands to turn left or right. She rode a tandem bicycle, serving as the engine in the rear while a rider in front steered. To run, she used a small elastic tether to lightly tie her to a guide, running slightly ahead.
Two months ago, Musser went to Montreal for the 1999 Triathlon World Championships. She won a gold medal, as the first blind triathlete ever to compete in a triathalon over the same courses as able-bodied athletes.
The idea of Musser passing her newfound confidence, to say nothing of some exacting sports skills, to Akash Patel came about almost by accident. “It started last year at `Everybody in the Pool,”‘ recalled teacher Mies, referring to a program at the Leaning Tower YMCA in Niles. “I knew Akash was going to be going, with the other 2nd-graders. I wanted him to swim.”
Mies had seen Heidi swimming there and first contacted her coach, Mark Landeck, wondering if he could help Patel. Landeck, instead, showed up with Heidi. “It’s amazing how one connection can have a rippling effect,” said Mies, recounting the scene for a visitor.
“Heidi worked with Akash in the water. `Why don’t you sit on my back while I swim,’ she said, `so you can feel what the movement is like.’ She did little tricks to get him to put his face in water, like dunking his head as part of a song,” Mies said. “If you’ve never seen a pool, and can’t imagine what it’s like, or how deep the water is, that can be quite frightening.”
What worked in water might well work on land, Mies thought. She invited Musser to work with Patel at Hynes, starting at the piano, to develop finger skills, then adding Braille lessons. Now she plans to expand her teaching role, taking on more students as her time allows.
“When you watch them together, there seems to be a real understanding,” said Mies. “Also, his life now seems more real to other children at school. This fall, he has wowed them with his piano playing and with his reading of `Toad and Frog,’ one of our course readings.”
“Heidi was the first blind person he’d ever known,” added teacher Barlow. “He’s become aware of the world, awakened to matters he never cared to know about before. In Braille, for example, he learned in six months what normally takes a year.”
