Wishes, Lies and Dreams in Idaho
Karena Youtz told me a story as we rode from Missoula to Boise, a story about working with an autistic child in a group home, about trying to get this child to understand an abstract concept.
“Autistic children,” she said to me, “only understand concrete things.”
Since they only understand concrete things, she tried to teach this child the abstract concept of a wish.
If he could learn the abstract concept of a wish, that would be progress.
She and the child worked for months on learning about wishes.
“What do you wish?” she would ask him.
“I wish,” he would say, “for ketchup at lunch.”
No, she would have to explain, a wish is something you want very badly. Like wanthing ketchup at lunch, but different somehow. Like wanting ketchup at lunch but . . . but what? What is it about a wish that separates it into the realm of the abstract?
It’s a tough question.
A wish, she decided, was something you want very badly, but know you will never get.
She told the child this and, finally, he got the concept.
“I wish,” he said, “I could go live with my parents.”
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This is another poems from a conversation with an autistic boy, Matthew, a fourteen year old whose only words were “How does the bus move? With a key!” said as a riddle or a joke and “Go home,” said with anger and utter frustration.
Bus, Boy, and Key
How does the bus move?
With a key.
How does the boy move?
With his legs.
How does the sky move?
With the wind.
Go home bus.
Go home boy.
go home wind.
Bus move me home.
boy run wind wild.
sky, sparkle starry.
Boy, turn the key.
Karena Youtz is a very good storyteller and I miss her.