The last year I worked as a special education assistant teacher in the local middle school I was assigned to the SID classroom. SID is short for Severely Intellectually Disabled. The kids in our room all qualified SID because they were evaluated to have an iq score of less than 25. All four of our students had some degree of physical disability. One girl was blind. One girl a quadriplegic. Two of the kids autistic. Only one of the autistic students, Nathan, had verbal skills.

Nathan was twelve years old and tall for his age. He looked like a gawky stork. Long skinny legs with knees that bent out at a forty five degrees when he walked. A shock of thick dark blonde hair that stuck up off his head, no matter how many times a day I combed it. If you’ve ever seen the movie What’s Eating Gilbert Grape and Leonardo DiCaprio’s brilliant portrayal of Arnie then imagine Nathan like that. Only not quite as socially acceptable, in looks or behavior. Not nearly.

Nathan came from elementary school with a huge file of goals, both short and long term. My job was not to teach Nathan reading or writing skills. His goals were all aimed at one thing. Social acceptance through behavior modification and life skills.

Here’s a few of Nathan’s goals we planned to address in sixth grade:

Complete potty training. He had been weaned off pull up diapers in fourth grade but still continued to wet his pants. Especially when he became excited. He became excited a lot.

Learn to complete two and three step instructions. As in: Nathan stand up and push in your chair now please. Three steps seemed a long way off at the beginning of the school year.

Expand his vocabulary. Nathan had a short list of words he used in communication. He recently (in the previous year) had begun to string two words together. This development was encouraging.

Strengthen his fine motor skills. Eye hand co-ordination was not one of his strong suits.

Practice appropriate physical contact. Nathan was a very affectionate kid. If he liked you he would hug you. With his whole body. And not let go. You had to actually peel him off of you. And he had a bad habit of grabbing women’s breasts. Random women. I kid you not.

You have to understand that none of the above goals were new. These goals were the same goals that had been addressed since Nathan began public school as a four year old. All day, every school day, for eight years. And at home. He had only one new goal for sixth grade.

Learn to identify denominations of money. Pennies, nickels, dimes, quarters, and dollar bills.

This goal pertained to a dream  Nathan’s parents had. One day, far into the future, they hoped  Nathan would be able to successfully walk the two blocks from their home to the local grocery store and purchase a gallon of milk.

Nathan was a good natured kid. He was eager to please. He came from a loving home and you could tell he was valued. His parents wanted everything for Nathan. They accepted his limitations but constantly challenged him to grow. It was important, especially to his mother, they be able take him out in public without constantly worrying about his safety. We all worried someday Nathan would get his ass kicked for grabbing some lady's boobs.

I give all my students nicknames. Nathan soon became Nate. Then Nate The Great. And eventually just The Great One. I loved that kid. He tried so hard. He was funny. Both intentionally and unintentionally. He laughed a lot. We got along swimmingly.

Before I go on it’s important for you to know Nate’s vocabulary:

Yep (yes)

Nope (no)

Mommy (he called everyone he liked by this name)

Uh (one)

Dah (Dad the one exception to Mommy)

Ummm (hungry or good depending on the circumstance)

I (meaning Nate himself)

Cud (could)

Puppy (he had a dog at home that he loved)

Hey (hello, goodbye, or look at me)

You (you)

Kay (okay)

We started in right away addressing his goals. Even though we worked on all of them everyday in every way possible I had my own priority. Appropriate physical contact. Nate was just too big to be grabbing the other kids in the class in a wrestler’s hold. His classmates were fragile. And they didn’t like it. Plus, once a week I took the kids to the mall or somewhere else public and I wanted him to learn acceptable behavior. For all our sakes.

I tried to teach Nate to shake hands. He was good at it. Too good. He would grab onto your hand and put the Ninja death squeeze on it. Seriously drop you to your knees. And not let go. We gave up on that. Okay, how about high-five? Oh man, he was a natural high-fiver! Yes! Not a hand shake exactly but close enough. Then, working on the two-step goal, we added the fist bump. Success! By October he had mastered a THREE step greeting. The high-five, fist- bump, elbow-on-the-side. You have no idea how hard it is for a kid like Nate to perform three physical actions in a row. We all celebrated his new skill. Over and over every day. Each time he started to hug someone (other than Mom or Dad) we intervened with High-Five Nate! It worked like a charm.

In November I decided to attack the money goal. To be honest I was not optimistic. I was enjoying Nate’s social success and didn’t really want to put him or me through a task I was certain he would not be able to grasp.

So we began. I put a penny, a nickel, a dime, a quarter, and a dollar on the table between us. Slowly I identified each one to Nate. I had him pick each one up and look at it.

Me: This is money Nate.

Nate: Yep.

Me: This is a penny Nate.

Nate: Yep.

And so on. You get the picture. If you have ever worked with intellectually disabled kids, or have one, or know one, then you can appreciate patience. Every day for ten minutes Nate and I worked on money skills. After a week or so I started asking him to pick up and hand me (fine motor skill) coins.

Me: Nate hand me a quarter.

Nate: Kay (hands me a penny).

Me: Nate thank you but that’s a penny. Hand me a quarter (I point at the quarter).

And so it went for a couple more weeks. And then one day…one day The Great One actually hands me the correct coin! Was this just a fluke? No! The kid starts getting it right just shy of fifty percent of the time! To understand how amazing this was you have to know that Nathan could not show you the difference between a circle and a square. Red or blue. Hot or cold. There was a whole lot of High-Fives going on during money skills. I decided maybe, just maybe, by the time Nate finished public school at twenty one he might be able to hand Mom and Dad two quarters and a dime if they asked.

One day in early December I figured if Nate liked money skills time so much maybe money should be one of his new words.

Me: Nate, what is this? (I gesture toward the coins on the table)

Nate: (blank stare)

Me: Nate, is this money?

Nate: Yep.

Me: Can you say money, Nate?

Nate: I cud.

Me: I know you could. Please say money for Mrs. R, Nate. Money.

Nate: I cud.

Me: Nate listen. (I take his hand and put it on my mouth) Money.

Nate: Mommy!

Me: No Nate. Not Mommy. Muuuuuuunnnneeee. Like that.

Nate: Mommy!

That afternoon I asked Nate’s mom to send in a picture of herself. The next day I tried again. I put the money in a pile to Nate’s left and his mom’s photo to his right.

Me: Hey, Nate. Who’s this? (pointing at Mom)

Nate: Mommy!

Me: Yes! Good Nathan. Good job. High-Five!

Me: Nate, what’s this? (pointing at the coins)

Nate: (blank stare, little smile)

Me: Nathan, where is the money?

Nate: (Points at the money! Yes!)

Now I knew that not only did he know the difference between Mommy and money, he could hear it in the words.

We did a lot of role playing with Nate. For example: Nate, let’s pretend it’s raining outside. Go to the coat rack and get your rain coat. He was good at it and had fun when we pretended. The next day I tried a new tactic.

Me: Hey Nate, look at Mrs. R. Focus, okay?

Nate: Kay.

Me: Nate let’s pretend.

Nate: Kay.

Me: Now listen. Nate look at me. Okay, new pretend game. Let’s pretend that I’m Mommy, okay?

Nate: Yep.

Me: And let’s pretend you are Nathan, okay?

Nate: Yep.

Me: Alright. I’m Mommy and you are Nate, got it?

Nate: Yep.

Me: Okay. Let’s pretend you and Mommy are talking. Remember, I’m Mommy. I say, Hey Nate, what should we get Mrs. R for Christmas? Then you say money! Okay?

Nate: Kay.

Me: Ready?

Nate: Yep.

Me: Okay. Remember, I’m Mommy. I say Hey Nate! What should we get Mrs. R for Christmas this year? And you say…

Nate: Uh puppy.

Me: What? No! You’re supposed to say money Nate!

Nate: Kay.

Me: Let’s try it again. Hey Nate! What should we get Mrs. R for Christmas this year? And you say…

Nate: Uh puppy.

Me: Arrrgggggg. No Nathan. Mrs. R does not want a puppy. I have a puppy already. I want money! Got it? Nate can you say money for me?

Nate: I cud.

And so it went until we both burst out laughing and moved on to the next practice skill of the day: making microwave popcorn. Ummm.

On the last day of school before winter break I was waiting with my other students for Nate’s handicapped bus to arrive. When it pulled up to the front of the building I could hear Nathan laughing and squealing from his seat. When the driver opened the door she was exasperated. He’s been like this since I picked him up she said. He’s pretty wound up. Well, all the kids in the school were excited. Today was winter holiday party day. Why should Nate be any different?

Wound up for certain. Nate bounded down the bus stairs, those crazy knees punching the air, and raced towards me. He was braying like a donkey. Haw haw haw. Nate had a habit of falling down. I was afraid he’d trip. And I was afraid he’d wet himself out here on the sidewalk. He had on his backpack and was waving a red envelope over his head.

Me: Dude…slow down. Look at me. Deep breath. Chill. Calm down, okay?

Nate: Hawww haw haw. (waves that envelope right in my face)

Me: Nate. Seriously. Calm down. What? What?

Nate: Hey! (shoves the envelope in my face again)

Me: Okay Nate. Thanks. (I notice my name written on the envelope)

Nate: Hey you!

Me: Is this for me? Thanks Nate. What is it?

Nate: MONEY!

Me: What?

Nate: MONEY!

I tore open the envelope and inside was a Macy’s gift card. MONEY! I danced around waving it over my head. MONEY! High-Five, fist-bump, elbow on the side and, just this once, a big hug.