Editor’s note: This is the third article of an ongoing series about the Lake Washington Transitional Academy, a unique, Redmond-based educational facility that assists developmentally disabled young people.
Soon after the Redmond Reporter launched a series on the Lake Washington School District’s (LWSD) Transition Academy, we heard glowing praise from Gary McGrath, the father of a recent grad, describing Transition Academy co-directors Richard Haines, Mark Tornquist and their staff as “wonderful, dedicated professionals who really do help the students accomplish remarkable achievements.”
McGrath explained that his son Reed, who is autistic, “has been gainfully employed at Fred Meyer in Redmond for three years now. He can ride the Metro bus by himself and he has gained a level of independence we never thought possible.”
Haines modestly responded, “We didn’t help Reed find his job at Fred Meyer. We helped him ‘refine’ his effectiveness as an employee. Pam Drake from Redmond High School (RHS) helped him line up the job. This goes to show how important our students’ earlier educational experiences are to their current success. We could not do our jobs without all of the hard work invested in our kids, beginning in preschool. We just happen to be at the end of a long line.”
LASTING IMPRESSIONS
Pam Drake has been a special education teacher in the LWSD for 16 years, including 15 at RHS.
A photo wall in the RHS Transition Classroom that Drake shares with Colleen Peterson recalls heartwarming stories of relationships she’s forged and maintained with developmentally disabled young people throughout the years.
“Some of these kids are turning 29 or 30 now. They’ve had the same jobs for the last 10 years,” said Drake.
Though they’ve left school behind, many still call or e-mail her on a regular basis, to say hello and share their ups and downs. She can tell, just from the tone of their voices, when they’re upset about something and need reassurance.
What sorts of obstacles must they overcome, even before they enter the Transition Academy?
While they’re still in a traditional school environment, it’s time to focus on the very basic life skills — even knowing their name, address, phone number and what to do in an emergency, Drake said. Little by little, they start to venture out more into the community. By the time they’re at the Transition Academy, being out in ‘the real world’ is standard activity.
Some have trouble focusing on tasks as they enter internships or jobs, Drake explained. She referenced a former student who now works at a Redmond store and would often get distracted by games or vending machines in the lobby.
And another former student was socially naive, “almost like he was programmed to say yes,” Drake explained. Like many individuals with autism, he was so trusting, eager to please and unable to pick up on social cues that unscrupulous people might take advantage of him.
“We had to show him to think for himself — be assertive and more independent,” Drake said.
Role-playing is useful in this regard, both at the Transition Academy and in the Transition Classroom at RHS. For example, developmentally disabled students can be coached not to follow bad influences.
“Think about the right choice,” Drake and her colleagues tell the students. “We set up scenarios, pretend to be a stranger asking, ‘Would you go with me?’”
Students then practice removing themselves from uncomfortable situations, walking away or asking for assistance as needed.
Along with helping the students identify and practice appropriate social behavior, Drake and her co-workers try to make job matches that not only meet the needs of the employers but reflect the students’ abilities and interests, as well.
Just like people in the general population, the developmentally disabled have their own personalities, strengths and weaknesses. To embrace their role in their community, they have to care about it.
TAKING PRIDE IN THEIR WORK
Where and when does acceptance of the developmentally disabled begin? These days, we’re seeing more disabled people employed in the community. Fred Meyer, Safeway and Pediatric Associates have been some of the staunchest supporters of the Transition Academy and its mission, according to Drake.
But those relationships had to be nurtured, too.
To gain their willingness to participate, Drake tells employers how much the Transition Academy students and grads “take pride and ownership” in their work.
However, new employers often nervously ask, “Are they gonna be here by themselves?”
Drake noted, “I’ll be there to coach them, to make sure it’s successful. I don’t leave them until they have the routine down.”
She gives employers booklets with information to assuage their doubts — a description of the student’s disability and how to best communicate with him or her, along with emergency phone numbers, the student’s calendar and more.
“When you hand that to them, it’s a relief,” said Drake.
She often makes the rounds of the job sites, checking to see if the Transition Academy students — or alumni — are at ease. “And word of mouth has really improved reception,” she said.
At RHS, Drake added, inclusion of the developmentally disabled is viewed as very important.
“Our student body is wonderful,” she said.
Students from the Transition Classroom have campus jobs which put them in contact with their neurotypical peers. Many students serve as peer coaches for those in special education. And twice a year, there are health presentations featuring alumni who have disabilities, coming back to talk about their lives and their jobs.
“When we started, you didn’t see many disabled people in the community. It is enlightening,” said Drake.
HOPES AND DREAMS
In upcoming installments of our series about the LWSD Transition Academy, we’ll share more information about current and former students, their hopes and dreams and how they far they have come toward their goals.