Spring Break
Lessons from Down Under
Difficult days and carefree nights at an Australian internship
by Alana Moses
Features | 5/1/07
Posted online at 11:17 PM EST on 4/30/07
/ Last updated at 2:39 PM EST on 4/30/07
Five weeks ago, I started working at the Wairoa School as part of my participation in the Boston University Sydney Internship Program. Situated in the beautiful Sydney beachside suburb of Bondi, Wairoa is a public school for students with moderate to high behavioral and intellectual needs. After my first day or two of work, "cultural immersion," BU's ultimate goal for our internships, was the last thing on my mind.
While other students on my program were being wined and dined at their internships, I was just trying to avoid being hit, kicked or spit on by the children in my class. Most of the students at Wairoa are autistic, which is why I, a psychology major, was placed there. But it soon became clear that no prior knowledge or experience could possibly have prepared me for working in such a unique environment as a special-needs school.
At Wairoa, I spent each day of the week with a different classroom. Tuesdays were devoted to a "secondary" classroom of 12- and 13-year-olds, I spent Wednesdays with a "middle" classroom of eight- to 11-year-olds, and Thursdays and Fridays with two "junior" classrooms of four- to six-year-olds. Each child at Wairoa has such a unique developmental situation that their behavior doesn't necessarily reflect their age. For example, many of the secondary students were still wearing diapers (or "nappies" in Australian lingo), while some of the junior students were being toilet-trained. And some of the junior and middle students could speak, while a number of secondary kids were completely nonverbal.
I liked working with the junior classes best-for some reason I felt that there was more hope in those classrooms. I was told that at Wairoa, if kids aren't speaking by the time they enter school, they most likely won't ever speak. This news hit me pretty hard, as I watched teachers read, sing and talk to their students every day; students who will never be able to interact with teachers, family and friends in a way that I take for granted.
While other students on my program were being wined and dined at their internships, I was just trying to avoid being hit, kicked or spit on by the children in my class. Most of the students at Wairoa are autistic, which is why I, a psychology major, was placed there. But it soon became clear that no prior knowledge or experience could possibly have prepared me for working in such a unique environment as a special-needs school.
At Wairoa, I spent each day of the week with a different classroom. Tuesdays were devoted to a "secondary" classroom of 12- and 13-year-olds, I spent Wednesdays with a "middle" classroom of eight- to 11-year-olds, and Thursdays and Fridays with two "junior" classrooms of four- to six-year-olds. Each child at Wairoa has such a unique developmental situation that their behavior doesn't necessarily reflect their age. For example, many of the secondary students were still wearing diapers (or "nappies" in Australian lingo), while some of the junior students were being toilet-trained. And some of the junior and middle students could speak, while a number of secondary kids were completely nonverbal.
I liked working with the junior classes best-for some reason I felt that there was more hope in those classrooms. I was told that at Wairoa, if kids aren't speaking by the time they enter school, they most likely won't ever speak. This news hit me pretty hard, as I watched teachers read, sing and talk to their students every day; students who will never be able to interact with teachers, family and friends in a way that I take for granted.
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