A Different Kind of Normal, Part 2
Written By Charlotte Meryman
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Dressed today in jeans and a black sweater, her short dark hair blown neatly away from her face, Farmer has worked with children with special needs for 16 years and with Jimmy since he started at Blueberry Hill almost two years ago. Her manner is strict but kind. That kindness can be a burden. She got too attached to the first child she worked with, for four intense years, and vowed never to remain with a student that long again. It hurt too much (and, she feels, kids grow from working with new aides). So she tries to stay professional: caring but detached. It works for her and for Jimmy too. "Amy has had a huge impact on Jimmy," says Michelle. "She doesn't baby him. She makes him do everything by himself." And so, characteristically keeping the bar high, and with Ashley and Jimmy in her sights, Amy holds the apple platter to one side and scootches Jimmy's "talker" (a voice-enhanced, handheld computer) in front of him. He quickly takes the hint, peers intently at the small screen, and repeatedly presses it to flip to the icons he wants. Found it. "Yes. Please," says a fractured, monotone male voice. "Ap-ple."
Ashley nods her approval, but she's not sold yet.
How could she know that to "talk" through a machine is a marvel for Jimmy? It ranks so much higher on the communications food chain than his binder of card-stock icons or his scant sign language. But the talker is still just another rung on the ladder. The ultimate goal is to get Jimmy to talk — on his own, discernibly, from the heart. "Say 'more apple,'" Farmer coaxes Jimmy. "Tell me. Say 'mmmore apple.'" His brow furrows as he struggles to make his mouth comply. "Mmmm," he manages at last.
It's enough. "Jim-Jim-vree!" Ashley squeals, and breaks into a delighted grin. Jimmy looks eagerly to the apples, which now land in front of him.
