Tuesday, November 20, 2007
"Bless us, Oh Lord"
I went to the commissary today in preparation for Thanksgiving. The aisles were crowded--within 45 minutes of my arrival every available grocery cart was in use. Lucy sat in the cart seat and was fairly cooperative. She DID kick her crocs off in the first 5 minutes, but I simply plopped them in the cart and sent up a prayer of thanks they didn't come off somewhere else, unnoticed. Lucy DID also contribute a few items to the cart, but I removed them before we paid for them (a large bottle of soy sauce and some chocolate cookie cereal). I had the pleasure of meeting a nice lady who introduced herself and has an 8 year old daughter with Ds, and many others greeted Lucy. It was finally time to unload the cart and I got all the cold stuff on the belt and was reaching for the cereal when I heard Lucy recite the Sign of the Cross in a loud voice from her seat. Surprised, I stopped and looked up to see her bow her head, while mumbling inaudibly, then again cross herself loudly and valiantly attempt to rip open a large bag of peanut butter filled m&m's!
Saturday, November 17, 2007
interesting article on Dr. Lejeune, link at bottom of article
Something very unusual happened at a Special Olympics for those with a
learning disability. Two sprinters, both of them suffering from what is
called Down's Syndrome, raced side by side. One of them pulled away, then
suddenly stumbled and fell. His companion stopped, lifted him up, massaged
his knees, embraced him. Together they shared podium honours. Emotion swept
the stands. Spectators had been given a lesson in love.
Down's Syndrome participants focused on one particular spectator. They
smothered him with embraces and kisses. They emblazoned him with their
golds, silvers and bronzes. He was the man who had defended their dignity,
given them a new name and identity, discredited 'mongolism' and 'Down's
Syndrome' with their racist connections. The former term came from the
belief that their physical appearance denoted a link with the inhabitants of
Mongolia. The latter term commemorated the mid-19th century Sir Langdon
Down, apparently a believer in white racial superiortity, who described the
handicap as "mongolian idiocy".
The hero-spectator was Jerome Lejeune. He was born in 1926 in Montrouge,
Hauts de Seine, southwest of Paris. Much of his early education came from
his father, a vet by profession and a man of both a philosophic and
practical bent. Jerome graduated in medicine at the University of Paris. His
hospital experience evoked a compassionate interest in children affected by
mongolism, as it was called. He noted both their 'head' (their limited
intelligence, especially in abstract subjects) and their 'heart' (their
affectionate nature). What had genetics to say about them?
He began a meticulous research. Assisted by Raymond Turpin and Marthe
Gauthier, he focused on chromosomes, the rod-like cell-carriers of genes,
arranged in side-by-side pairs. In 1956 Tjio and Leven had established that
in most human beings each cell had 23 pairs, ie 46 chromosomes. Early in
1959 the 'Paris Three' announced the discovery of a 47th chromosome,
physically identical with the 21st pair, in 'Down's Syndrome' children.
This seminal discovery of 'trisomie 21', as he called it, gave new impetus
to genetics research by Lejeune and others and made the traditional names
with their racist nuance obsolete - though rather regrettably Down's
Syndrome survived in Anglo-Saxon circles. It also gave him a doctorate in
science and an international reputation. He never discovered a way of
preventing the trisomic condition but he did develop treatments that
improved intelligence and actvity. His research extended to thyroid and
amino-acid deficiency.
In Paris he ran a free consultancy (even after it lost state funding). He
became a legend of one-to-one compassion and respect for human dignity to
the parents and children who came there from various countries. He worked
for several years in the US, where he was a member of the American Academy
of Arts and Sciences and received the Kennedy prize from JFK himself.
Genetics also brought him to Russia, Israel, Chile and Japan. (He was much
taken by the Japanese word for 'womb': shi-kiu: 'infant's temple'). He
worked with a UN committee on congenital abnormalities. In 1974 Pope Paul VI
made him a member of the Pontifical Academy of Sciences. In 1982 he was
elected to the French Academy of Moral and Political Sciences.
Along with all this he had a family life deeply and openly imbued with
Christian faith. He was married to Birthe Bringsted, a Dane, whom he had met
in student days. She shared and supported his values and interests. They had
five children. They lived in Paris most of the time but also had a house in
the countryside south of the city. His sojourns there were precious to him
for relaxation, appreciation of life in nature, as well as prayerful and
scientific reflection. This pattern of family faith and fulfilment must
surely have helped him in the war he waged during his later years: the
defence of human life against abortion and other anti-life procedures.
He realised that the great chromosome discovery would be misused in a
'search and destroy' technique for the aborting of trisomic babies. This
danger and his mission to fight it came poignantly home to him when a
tearful trisomic youngster flung himself into his arms and begged him to
defend those like him still unborn. He told his genetics team: "I am going
to undertake the duty of speaking publicly in defence of our sick.If I do
not defend them, I betray them, I renounce what I have de facto become:
their natural advocate."
He was the leading light in establishing the World Federation of Doctors who
Respect Human Life (from conception to death), Chairperson of Laissez-le
Vivres (Let Them Live), President of the Society for the Protection of
Unborn Children. He set up 'The Houses of Tom Thumb' for mothers tempted to
abort because of materially difficult situations. He became a brilliant
defender of human life on platforms, television and radio. Too brilliant for
some; after one television programme, his wife overheard a studio executive
say to a subordinate, "Lejeune? That swine! But what talent! He's too good.
Don't invite him again." Other forms of opposition included threatening
graffiti, harassment of patients and labelling of them as 'monsters' and
disease-carriers, the attempted wrecking of meetings.
What saddened him immensely was the abandonment by so many doctors of their
pro-life oath-bound Hippocratic ethos. At an international medical
conference on health in New York which was favouring the legalisation of
abortion, he did not mince his words: "This Institute of Health in an
Institute of Death." That evening he wrote to his wife: "This afternoon I
lost my Nobel Prize."
He was an adviser and informant of Pope John Paul II on genetics and related
issues. They became real friends; to John Paul he was "Brother Jerome". When
in Rome he was the Pope's guest at table and private morning Mass. He and
his wife lunched with the Pope only hours before the assassination attempt
on 13 May 1981. Later that year John Paul sent him with another scientist to
Moscow to warn the Soviet supremo Brezhnev of the disaster nuclear bombing
would be to the human race.
It is very likely that he influenced the text of 'The Gospel of Life', which
is perhaps John Paul's greatest encyclical. Here and there in the section
about abortion the very strong words of the Pope seem to echo those of
Lejeune in his pro-life crusade: an expression perhaps of the remarkable
convergence of mind that united them in friendship. In 1994 John Paul made
'Brother Jerome' first president of the Pontifical Academy of Life. The Pope
knew that Lejeune was dying of lung cancer. The appointment was a farewell
accolade from one great Christian humanist to another. He was president for
33 days. His 'little ones' were in his mind to the end.
He died on Easter Sunday, 3 April 1994. Many, including the Pope, saw a
'sign' in that this great apostle of life departed on the great feastday of
the Lord of life. Notre Dame de Paris was packed for the funeral Mass. The
officiating bishop read John Paul's message in which the Pope thanked God
for 'Brother Jerome', praised him for all he had done for human life and
dignity, called him an ostracised 'sign of contradiction' in a permissive
society and warned of the organised culture of death that menaced the
unborn, the aged and the sick.
But the speaker who impressed most was the trisomic Bruno who had been one
of the children involved in the famous discovery 35 years previously. He
spoke of Lejeune from the heart and spoke to him as to a friend still
present: "Thank you, Professor Lejeune, for all that you have done for my
father and my mother. Thanks to you, I am proud to be me. Your death has
healed me." It was a testimony that Jerome Lejeune had lived up to what
could be called his 'mission statement'.
"Only one phrase will dictate how we behave: the argument that does not
deceive and that from elsewhere judges all; the very word of Jesus: what you
have done to the least of mine, you have done to me."
Lejeune: the young one: so well-named
Called to protect the very young
Newly-arrived, on the lowest rung
Of the ladder of life and under threat
because they're ill - but don't forget
they are of us. So he proclaimed
in science and faith, in deed and word:
'a human's here, a tiny 'who'
a miracle completely new
a wonder-gift, an infant given
meant like all of us for heaven
a little one loved by the Lord'.
Easter Day, all labour done
Rendezvous with Mary's Son
Once a very little One
Now the Lord of life, says 'Come'.
http://www.theword.ie/cms/publish/article_574.shtml
Back to top
learning disability. Two sprinters, both of them suffering from what is
called Down's Syndrome, raced side by side. One of them pulled away, then
suddenly stumbled and fell. His companion stopped, lifted him up, massaged
his knees, embraced him. Together they shared podium honours. Emotion swept
the stands. Spectators had been given a lesson in love.
Down's Syndrome participants focused on one particular spectator. They
smothered him with embraces and kisses. They emblazoned him with their
golds, silvers and bronzes. He was the man who had defended their dignity,
given them a new name and identity, discredited 'mongolism' and 'Down's
Syndrome' with their racist connections. The former term came from the
belief that their physical appearance denoted a link with the inhabitants of
Mongolia. The latter term commemorated the mid-19th century Sir Langdon
Down, apparently a believer in white racial superiortity, who described the
handicap as "mongolian idiocy".
The hero-spectator was Jerome Lejeune. He was born in 1926 in Montrouge,
Hauts de Seine, southwest of Paris. Much of his early education came from
his father, a vet by profession and a man of both a philosophic and
practical bent. Jerome graduated in medicine at the University of Paris. His
hospital experience evoked a compassionate interest in children affected by
mongolism, as it was called. He noted both their 'head' (their limited
intelligence, especially in abstract subjects) and their 'heart' (their
affectionate nature). What had genetics to say about them?
He began a meticulous research. Assisted by Raymond Turpin and Marthe
Gauthier, he focused on chromosomes, the rod-like cell-carriers of genes,
arranged in side-by-side pairs. In 1956 Tjio and Leven had established that
in most human beings each cell had 23 pairs, ie 46 chromosomes. Early in
1959 the 'Paris Three' announced the discovery of a 47th chromosome,
physically identical with the 21st pair, in 'Down's Syndrome' children.
This seminal discovery of 'trisomie 21', as he called it, gave new impetus
to genetics research by Lejeune and others and made the traditional names
with their racist nuance obsolete - though rather regrettably Down's
Syndrome survived in Anglo-Saxon circles. It also gave him a doctorate in
science and an international reputation. He never discovered a way of
preventing the trisomic condition but he did develop treatments that
improved intelligence and actvity. His research extended to thyroid and
amino-acid deficiency.
In Paris he ran a free consultancy (even after it lost state funding). He
became a legend of one-to-one compassion and respect for human dignity to
the parents and children who came there from various countries. He worked
for several years in the US, where he was a member of the American Academy
of Arts and Sciences and received the Kennedy prize from JFK himself.
Genetics also brought him to Russia, Israel, Chile and Japan. (He was much
taken by the Japanese word for 'womb': shi-kiu: 'infant's temple'). He
worked with a UN committee on congenital abnormalities. In 1974 Pope Paul VI
made him a member of the Pontifical Academy of Sciences. In 1982 he was
elected to the French Academy of Moral and Political Sciences.
Along with all this he had a family life deeply and openly imbued with
Christian faith. He was married to Birthe Bringsted, a Dane, whom he had met
in student days. She shared and supported his values and interests. They had
five children. They lived in Paris most of the time but also had a house in
the countryside south of the city. His sojourns there were precious to him
for relaxation, appreciation of life in nature, as well as prayerful and
scientific reflection. This pattern of family faith and fulfilment must
surely have helped him in the war he waged during his later years: the
defence of human life against abortion and other anti-life procedures.
He realised that the great chromosome discovery would be misused in a
'search and destroy' technique for the aborting of trisomic babies. This
danger and his mission to fight it came poignantly home to him when a
tearful trisomic youngster flung himself into his arms and begged him to
defend those like him still unborn. He told his genetics team: "I am going
to undertake the duty of speaking publicly in defence of our sick.If I do
not defend them, I betray them, I renounce what I have de facto become:
their natural advocate."
He was the leading light in establishing the World Federation of Doctors who
Respect Human Life (from conception to death), Chairperson of Laissez-le
Vivres (Let Them Live), President of the Society for the Protection of
Unborn Children. He set up 'The Houses of Tom Thumb' for mothers tempted to
abort because of materially difficult situations. He became a brilliant
defender of human life on platforms, television and radio. Too brilliant for
some; after one television programme, his wife overheard a studio executive
say to a subordinate, "Lejeune? That swine! But what talent! He's too good.
Don't invite him again." Other forms of opposition included threatening
graffiti, harassment of patients and labelling of them as 'monsters' and
disease-carriers, the attempted wrecking of meetings.
What saddened him immensely was the abandonment by so many doctors of their
pro-life oath-bound Hippocratic ethos. At an international medical
conference on health in New York which was favouring the legalisation of
abortion, he did not mince his words: "This Institute of Health in an
Institute of Death." That evening he wrote to his wife: "This afternoon I
lost my Nobel Prize."
He was an adviser and informant of Pope John Paul II on genetics and related
issues. They became real friends; to John Paul he was "Brother Jerome". When
in Rome he was the Pope's guest at table and private morning Mass. He and
his wife lunched with the Pope only hours before the assassination attempt
on 13 May 1981. Later that year John Paul sent him with another scientist to
Moscow to warn the Soviet supremo Brezhnev of the disaster nuclear bombing
would be to the human race.
It is very likely that he influenced the text of 'The Gospel of Life', which
is perhaps John Paul's greatest encyclical. Here and there in the section
about abortion the very strong words of the Pope seem to echo those of
Lejeune in his pro-life crusade: an expression perhaps of the remarkable
convergence of mind that united them in friendship. In 1994 John Paul made
'Brother Jerome' first president of the Pontifical Academy of Life. The Pope
knew that Lejeune was dying of lung cancer. The appointment was a farewell
accolade from one great Christian humanist to another. He was president for
33 days. His 'little ones' were in his mind to the end.
He died on Easter Sunday, 3 April 1994. Many, including the Pope, saw a
'sign' in that this great apostle of life departed on the great feastday of
the Lord of life. Notre Dame de Paris was packed for the funeral Mass. The
officiating bishop read John Paul's message in which the Pope thanked God
for 'Brother Jerome', praised him for all he had done for human life and
dignity, called him an ostracised 'sign of contradiction' in a permissive
society and warned of the organised culture of death that menaced the
unborn, the aged and the sick.
But the speaker who impressed most was the trisomic Bruno who had been one
of the children involved in the famous discovery 35 years previously. He
spoke of Lejeune from the heart and spoke to him as to a friend still
present: "Thank you, Professor Lejeune, for all that you have done for my
father and my mother. Thanks to you, I am proud to be me. Your death has
healed me." It was a testimony that Jerome Lejeune had lived up to what
could be called his 'mission statement'.
"Only one phrase will dictate how we behave: the argument that does not
deceive and that from elsewhere judges all; the very word of Jesus: what you
have done to the least of mine, you have done to me."
Lejeune: the young one: so well-named
Called to protect the very young
Newly-arrived, on the lowest rung
Of the ladder of life and under threat
because they're ill - but don't forget
they are of us. So he proclaimed
in science and faith, in deed and word:
'a human's here, a tiny 'who'
a miracle completely new
a wonder-gift, an infant given
meant like all of us for heaven
a little one loved by the Lord'.
Easter Day, all labour done
Rendezvous with Mary's Son
Once a very little One
Now the Lord of life, says 'Come'.
http://www.theword.ie/cms/publish/article_574.shtml
Back to top
Thursday, November 15, 2007
A beautiful conversion story
http://www.mommylife.net/
Please take a few minutes to read the conversion story (under the heading WIBAWIB--"where I've been and where I'm bound") of Barbara Curtis. Barbara is a well known Evangelical writer and mother of 12 children--4 of whom have Down syndrome! She has recently made the decision to become Catholic, and gives a beautiful and dramatic account of God's grace at work in her life.
Welcome home, Barbara!
Please take a few minutes to read the conversion story (under the heading WIBAWIB--"where I've been and where I'm bound") of Barbara Curtis. Barbara is a well known Evangelical writer and mother of 12 children--4 of whom have Down syndrome! She has recently made the decision to become Catholic, and gives a beautiful and dramatic account of God's grace at work in her life.
Welcome home, Barbara!
Sunday, November 11, 2007
A merry heart doth good like medicine
One endearing aspect of Lucy's development has been her emerging sense of humor. Yesterday as I buckled Lucy into her carseat, I told her, "We are off to run some errands." Lucy answered, "Run, run, run, Mama!" with an amused twinkle in her eye.
Another time as I prepared dinner, I heard Lucy singing her modified version of the old favorite, "Ain't it great to be Crazy" from the living room. Lucy was belting out the words, "Boom, boom, ain't it great to be MAMA!"
And finally, she often finds it amusing to put her hand down on the sofa cushion just before I sit on it to read to her, pause and then burst into giggles that I'm sitting on her hand!
Another time as I prepared dinner, I heard Lucy singing her modified version of the old favorite, "Ain't it great to be Crazy" from the living room. Lucy was belting out the words, "Boom, boom, ain't it great to be MAMA!"
And finally, she often finds it amusing to put her hand down on the sofa cushion just before I sit on it to read to her, pause and then burst into giggles that I'm sitting on her hand!
Nanny wanted?
Lucy has been on a big Mary Poppins kick lately, and today she requested a piece of paper and pencil, carefully scribbled all over it, tore it to shreds, and then threw it into the fireplace, gazing wistfully for a while as if she expected the pieces of paper to float up the chimney to Mary herself!
Inclusion in Catholic schools can happen!
'A great blessing' - Student with Down syndrome inspires school
By George P. Matysek Jr.
10/13/2006
The Catholic Review (www.catholicreview.org)
BALTIMORE, Md. (The Catholic Review) - Standing at his locker in a hallway
at Mount St. Joseph High School here, Ben Stevick attracted the kind of
attention that might otherwise be reserved for a quarterback on game day.
Just about every guy who passed through the bustling corridor seemed to call
out to the short-in-stature, 17-year-old sophomore, many of them patting him
on the shoulder and one playfully punching him on the arm and yelling, "Yo,
Ben, my man, what's up!"
The conversation soon turned to that perennial topic at an all-boys school:
girls.
"You ready for the dance tonight?" a student asked.
With a big smile that seemed to engulf his entire face - exposing metal
braces on his teeth, Ben nodded. It would be his first dance, and he had
been practicing his moves.
"Is Theresa going to be there?" he asked haltingly, adjusting a pair of
wire-rimmed glasses. The other guys returned the smile and assured their
sandy-haired friend that his crush would be there, along with plenty of
other girls.
The Friday afternoon scene at Mount St. Joseph from late September could
have played out in any high school in the Archdiocese of Baltimore. What
made it extraordinary is the fact that Ben has Down syndrome, a genetic
disorder that causes mental retardation.
Ben is the first student with Down syndrome to enroll in a Catholic high
school in the archdiocese. His presence at Mount St. Joseph has changed Ben
in significant ways and touched many hearts in the high school community.
There was never any doubt in Ben's mind about where he wanted to go to high
school. Matt, his older brother, had attended Mount St. Joseph, and Ben was
impressed by his big brother's experience.
Ben had attended St. Mary of the Mills School in Laurel, Md., in the
Archdiocese of Washington, and since some of his friends there planned to
attend the Xaverian school up north in Baltimore, there was added incentive
to apply to Mount St. Joseph. When Dick and Doris Stevick approached Barry
Fitzpatrick, principal, about enrolling their son, Fitzpatrick prayed about
it before agreeing to the historic arrangement last year.
Cheryl Hall, a special education teacher who had worked with Ben at St.
Mary, serves as Ben's personal tutor who accompanies him to classes.
Ben takes the same academic courses as his buddies, but they are adapted to
his skill level by Hall. The teachers sometimes work with him one-on-one
after class, and Ben also completes a work study - stocking shelves,
assisting in the gymnasium and doing other tasks that will help prepare him
for later employment.
In three more years, Ben won't receive a diploma when he graduates, but he
will get a certificate of attendance.
"In just one year, his academic skill level has already far surpassed what
we thought he was capable of," said Hall, noting that Ben's intelligence
level tests at about late second grade or early third grade.
While Ben's speech remains difficult to understand, it has improved greatly
over the last 14 months, Hall said. She credits that to the fact that Ben is
daily exposed to conversations from other students, and he's better able to
model his own speech after what he hears.
If Ben had not been accepted into Mount St. Joseph, Hall said he would have
enrolled in a self-contained public school program for children with special
needs. While he probably would have learned practical skills there, Ben
would not have been challenged academically in the way he has at Mount St.
Joseph, she said.
"We don't want to put limits on kids like Ben," Ms. Hall said. "We need to
push them and see how much they can do."
In a recent history course, Ben sat near the front of the class and
studiously highlighted sentences in his textbook that his teacher said were
important. When it was his turn, he read aloud a paragraph about indulgences
and how they helped spark the Protestant Reformation. While the other boys
couldn't understand every word Ben said, there was no smirking as he plodded
through the passage at a careful pace.
Brother James Kelly, president of the school, said it's "a testament to the
caliber of our students" that Ben has been warmly embraced. No one has ever
picked on Ben. Students have instead gone out of their way to help him, he
said.
"I think he inspires them," said Brother James, noting that Mount St. Joseph
is the first Xaverian school in the country to accept a child with Down
syndrome.
"They see him working hard and struggling to learn while some of the others
can be lazy at times," he said. "He's a great blessing to our community."
Brian Abbo, a 15-year-old classmate and Ben's best friend, said students
feel close to Ben because he is a genuine and caring person.
"With Ben, you can't get mad," said Abbo. "He never does anything to hurt
you. He's not going to judge you. He considers everyone his friend."
The biggest challenge to enrolling students like Ben is the financial cost,
according to Brother Kelly. The inclusion program launched with Ben's
enrollment is being funded this year by a grant from the Catholic Coalition
for Special Education. The St. Giles program, named after the patron saint
of people with disabilities, is currently operating on a year-to-year basis
depending on the availability of funding, but Brother Kelly would like to
add another student with special needs next year.
Not every child with disabilities can be accommodated, he said, but there
are those like Ben who would do well if there were enough resources to
enroll them.
For his part, Ben said he loves everything about Mount St. Joseph. He enjoys
being on the swim team, he likes his teachers, and he said he has made many
friends. Asked what his favorite subject is, he unleashed his
characteristically warm smile.
"Chemistry, English, social studies, religion, math and P.E. - and lunch,"
he said.
With his religion teacher sitting by his side, the teen then returned his
attention to a map of the Middle East that outlined ancient rivers, deserts
and biblical jurisdictions. There would be a quiz in his religion class next
week. He had to study.
http://www.catholic.org/hf/teens/story.php?id=21615
By George P. Matysek Jr.
10/13/2006
The Catholic Review (www.catholicreview.org)
BALTIMORE, Md. (The Catholic Review) - Standing at his locker in a hallway
at Mount St. Joseph High School here, Ben Stevick attracted the kind of
attention that might otherwise be reserved for a quarterback on game day.
Just about every guy who passed through the bustling corridor seemed to call
out to the short-in-stature, 17-year-old sophomore, many of them patting him
on the shoulder and one playfully punching him on the arm and yelling, "Yo,
Ben, my man, what's up!"
The conversation soon turned to that perennial topic at an all-boys school:
girls.
"You ready for the dance tonight?" a student asked.
With a big smile that seemed to engulf his entire face - exposing metal
braces on his teeth, Ben nodded. It would be his first dance, and he had
been practicing his moves.
"Is Theresa going to be there?" he asked haltingly, adjusting a pair of
wire-rimmed glasses. The other guys returned the smile and assured their
sandy-haired friend that his crush would be there, along with plenty of
other girls.
The Friday afternoon scene at Mount St. Joseph from late September could
have played out in any high school in the Archdiocese of Baltimore. What
made it extraordinary is the fact that Ben has Down syndrome, a genetic
disorder that causes mental retardation.
Ben is the first student with Down syndrome to enroll in a Catholic high
school in the archdiocese. His presence at Mount St. Joseph has changed Ben
in significant ways and touched many hearts in the high school community.
There was never any doubt in Ben's mind about where he wanted to go to high
school. Matt, his older brother, had attended Mount St. Joseph, and Ben was
impressed by his big brother's experience.
Ben had attended St. Mary of the Mills School in Laurel, Md., in the
Archdiocese of Washington, and since some of his friends there planned to
attend the Xaverian school up north in Baltimore, there was added incentive
to apply to Mount St. Joseph. When Dick and Doris Stevick approached Barry
Fitzpatrick, principal, about enrolling their son, Fitzpatrick prayed about
it before agreeing to the historic arrangement last year.
Cheryl Hall, a special education teacher who had worked with Ben at St.
Mary, serves as Ben's personal tutor who accompanies him to classes.
Ben takes the same academic courses as his buddies, but they are adapted to
his skill level by Hall. The teachers sometimes work with him one-on-one
after class, and Ben also completes a work study - stocking shelves,
assisting in the gymnasium and doing other tasks that will help prepare him
for later employment.
In three more years, Ben won't receive a diploma when he graduates, but he
will get a certificate of attendance.
"In just one year, his academic skill level has already far surpassed what
we thought he was capable of," said Hall, noting that Ben's intelligence
level tests at about late second grade or early third grade.
While Ben's speech remains difficult to understand, it has improved greatly
over the last 14 months, Hall said. She credits that to the fact that Ben is
daily exposed to conversations from other students, and he's better able to
model his own speech after what he hears.
If Ben had not been accepted into Mount St. Joseph, Hall said he would have
enrolled in a self-contained public school program for children with special
needs. While he probably would have learned practical skills there, Ben
would not have been challenged academically in the way he has at Mount St.
Joseph, she said.
"We don't want to put limits on kids like Ben," Ms. Hall said. "We need to
push them and see how much they can do."
In a recent history course, Ben sat near the front of the class and
studiously highlighted sentences in his textbook that his teacher said were
important. When it was his turn, he read aloud a paragraph about indulgences
and how they helped spark the Protestant Reformation. While the other boys
couldn't understand every word Ben said, there was no smirking as he plodded
through the passage at a careful pace.
Brother James Kelly, president of the school, said it's "a testament to the
caliber of our students" that Ben has been warmly embraced. No one has ever
picked on Ben. Students have instead gone out of their way to help him, he
said.
"I think he inspires them," said Brother James, noting that Mount St. Joseph
is the first Xaverian school in the country to accept a child with Down
syndrome.
"They see him working hard and struggling to learn while some of the others
can be lazy at times," he said. "He's a great blessing to our community."
Brian Abbo, a 15-year-old classmate and Ben's best friend, said students
feel close to Ben because he is a genuine and caring person.
"With Ben, you can't get mad," said Abbo. "He never does anything to hurt
you. He's not going to judge you. He considers everyone his friend."
The biggest challenge to enrolling students like Ben is the financial cost,
according to Brother Kelly. The inclusion program launched with Ben's
enrollment is being funded this year by a grant from the Catholic Coalition
for Special Education. The St. Giles program, named after the patron saint
of people with disabilities, is currently operating on a year-to-year basis
depending on the availability of funding, but Brother Kelly would like to
add another student with special needs next year.
Not every child with disabilities can be accommodated, he said, but there
are those like Ben who would do well if there were enough resources to
enroll them.
For his part, Ben said he loves everything about Mount St. Joseph. He enjoys
being on the swim team, he likes his teachers, and he said he has made many
friends. Asked what his favorite subject is, he unleashed his
characteristically warm smile.
"Chemistry, English, social studies, religion, math and P.E. - and lunch,"
he said.
With his religion teacher sitting by his side, the teen then returned his
attention to a map of the Middle East that outlined ancient rivers, deserts
and biblical jurisdictions. There would be a quiz in his religion class next
week. He had to study.
http://www.catholic.org/hf/teens/story.php?id=21615
Thursday, November 8, 2007
An instrument of God
I recently met a woman at church, who looked with amazement at Lucy and asked if she was my daughter. When I said yes, she told me that about a year ago she had been praying in church for discernment about whether she should be open to life again. She told me that suddenly Lucy, (who she had never seen before or again until we met), came up to her where she was kneeling.
Before she could go any further with the story, my new friend's eyes welled with tears, and all she could say in a voice choked with emotion was, "Betty, your daughter is an instrument of God. She is an instrument of God."
Before she could go any further with the story, my new friend's eyes welled with tears, and all she could say in a voice choked with emotion was, "Betty, your daughter is an instrument of God. She is an instrument of God."
when your baby isn't "perfect"...
So many societal attitudes are wrapped up in the idea of the "perfect" baby, and OF COURSE, society tells us, it is understandable that any baby that is "less than perfect" SHOULD be done away with.
Have you ever stopped to think about the messages of perfection we are steeped in everyday?
1) Perfection is attainable and YOU can have it, with enough money of course. You can have the perfect car, house, education, job, looks, and body, and all at the same time.
2) Children can be perfect: cute, smart, athletic, successful, respectful, and hard working.
3) Families can perfect: as a bumper sticker I once saw said, "We are in love and having fun!" Marriage optional, fulfillment possible and sought after as many times as necessary with new partners.
4) Holidays can be perfect: more splendid, more indulgent, more sentimental, more amusing, more, more, more! And all with perfect organization and stress-free, at least somehow, if you can just figure that part out!
What a bunch of crock! Do you know anyone like that? Of course not--it's all just a flattering lie! Jesus and Mary were perfect, and just how well would they fit into the materialistic model of perfection we hear about? What a ridiculous rat race to be trapped in!
The beauty of Lucy is she is living a world apart from those distortions. She accepts herself, and doesn't focus on herself at all. She lives in the present moment with a zest for life. She loves with warmth and all her heart. She is a living witness to the utter shallowness of the materialistic lies. And that is why our very "tolerant" society is murderously intolerant of others like her in the womb.
Have you ever stopped to think about the messages of perfection we are steeped in everyday?
1) Perfection is attainable and YOU can have it, with enough money of course. You can have the perfect car, house, education, job, looks, and body, and all at the same time.
2) Children can be perfect: cute, smart, athletic, successful, respectful, and hard working.
3) Families can perfect: as a bumper sticker I once saw said, "We are in love and having fun!" Marriage optional, fulfillment possible and sought after as many times as necessary with new partners.
4) Holidays can be perfect: more splendid, more indulgent, more sentimental, more amusing, more, more, more! And all with perfect organization and stress-free, at least somehow, if you can just figure that part out!
What a bunch of crock! Do you know anyone like that? Of course not--it's all just a flattering lie! Jesus and Mary were perfect, and just how well would they fit into the materialistic model of perfection we hear about? What a ridiculous rat race to be trapped in!
The beauty of Lucy is she is living a world apart from those distortions. She accepts herself, and doesn't focus on herself at all. She lives in the present moment with a zest for life. She loves with warmth and all her heart. She is a living witness to the utter shallowness of the materialistic lies. And that is why our very "tolerant" society is murderously intolerant of others like her in the womb.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
All Saints Party
Lucy got 2nd place at the All Saints party at church, in her depiction of the young St. Therese! It was so kind of the judges to single out Lucy, shown here with the other winners and our beloved Director of Religious Education who is dressed as St. Bahkita. I can't help but think St. Therese finds Lucy's childlikeness endearing, and her behavior amusing. St. Therese, please intercede for Lucy and all children with Down syndrome!
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