Loving Abundance

He was five years old when he stepped into the doorway of our learning center.  He was a transferee.  The mom expressed her concern that because there was quite a number of students in his former school, she felt his progress was a bit slow.  We discovered he could only speak a few words equivalent to the language skills of a two year old. No speech therapist was hired since it was out of their budget.   He identified all the colors as “boo”; and he still didn’t master the letters of the alphabet.  This was required in order for us to accept him into our Kids n’ Concepts Program.  Nonetheless, seeing that he was already too big for the other classes, we accepted him into our fold.

Right from the beginning, you would know that he was around.  His lilting voice was unmistakable.  And he was calling us “sir” instead of “teacher.”  After several futile attempts, he finally settled for “mam.”   Teacher Susan fondly recalled how she became “sisa” which later evolved to “isan” and the nearest he could utter was “usan.”  Teacher Jing became “jen.”

His presence in the classroom caused a commotion.  He periodically disrupted the class with his antics.  He would switch the lights on and off.  He would go from table to table to see what the others were up to.  If a classmate was writing, he would try to grab the pencil. During play time, he would run after the girls and try to hug them or give them wet kisses.  “Gifford!”, they would cry out.  “Yuck!”, the girls would scream at the “wet kisses” he placed on their cheeks or upon seeing him wipe his runny nose with the back of his hand.

Stella, our principal, calmly received the complaints of the teachers and watched Gifford at work.  She surmised that he was engaged in all those activities because of his desire to get everyone’s attention especially his classmates.  Ultimately, he just wanted to get along and to belong.  And since he couldn’t express things verbally, that was the only way he knew how.

She began to change everyone’s perspective of Gifford by pointing out all the little things he did that showed his affection.  You couldn’t help but smile when you see the glee in Gifford’s eyes when he was running after the girls.  The teachers were no exception.  Sometimes he would grab your arm or hair and smack a lot of kisses. He was undaunted with whatever response you may have. He just kept right on loving.  He was very real and his face was expressive in showing his disappointment, excitement or hurt.

I watched the teachers transform before my eyes.  I saw how they began to respond differently.  Irritation was replaced with laughter.  They began to explain to the kids that Gifford just wanted to make friends.  We also taught Gifford how to show his affection (without robbing his spontaneity), wait for his turn, wipe his runny nose with a handkerchief, or remind him to get a haircut.  Along with all this, he was now learning colors, identifying pictures, learning the alphabet and even started to write.

Months passed and we could see improvements.  His teacher proudly showed a paper bearing his name—G i f f r o d!  Albeit the wrong spelling, he had gone a long way.

His speech improvement was still slow.  But that didn’t deter him from communicating.  Whenever he had a new haircut or new shoes, he would pass by the office and announce proudly, “mam!” with matching grin, raising his eyebrows up and down and pointing to his head or tapping his feet on the floor.  What he couldn’t say, he acted out.

The beauty of it all was that I could see his classmates start to accept him.  We would often catch the kids looking at us and how we responded to Gifford.  By accepting him, we taught them to accept him as well.

Whenever I remember him, his natural exuberance for life beckons to me like a sweet song.   My heart is full of joy when we take a trip down memory lane and recall the funny and endearing things he did.  We talk about a boy who could be heard shouting in the street as he skipped and ran all the way to our gate shouting “Mam, Mam, Mam!” announcing to the world his arrival.  We remember pausing from whatever we were doing and exclaiming with a hearty smile, “Gifford is here!”

Indeed he is here.  Gifford was one on my list of inspiring children.  He has left an indelible footprint in my heart.

By:  Michelle Simtoco