Brushing the surface

Noaki Schwartz

Ask 9-year-old Andy Pisciewicz about the painting he’s just finished and

his answer skips over logic like the flat stones that absorb his

thoughts.

“I enjoyed fun. Now practice how to make skip,” he said haltingly.

“You see,” said his teacher, Harriet Hasson. “He’s more interested in

skipping rocks over the water than in talking to you.”

Like the other half-million Americans who suffer from autism, Andy went

from being a loving, affectionate child to withering into his own little

world.

A complex developmental disability, autism usually surfaces during the

first three years of life. Parents watch their smiling, bubbly youngsters

suddenly lose their ability to talk. To touch. To play. To laugh. To be

children.

Every day, six children across the nation are diagnosed as autistic -- a

number that is sadly increasing each year, according to the Autism

Society of America.

It is a mysterious affliction that does not discriminate between race,

ethnicity or societal boundaries. It is, however, four times more common

in boys than in girls.

In an effort to increase awareness about the condition, January has been

designated national Autism Month. Along with 35 other students from the

Speech and Language Development Center in Buena Park, Andy participated

in painting a mural with the guidance of renowned artist Synthia Saint

James at the Newport Dunes resort on Friday.

Little fingers grabbed brushes and created layer upon layer of paint.

Bold blue triangles. Red squares. Bright yellow suns.

Clear shapes were smothered with hyper streaks of green. Drippy splashes

of dark blue. And finally, black -- everywhere. Covering everything.

Small flowers and smiley faces tried to peek out unsuccessfully from

under the solid black that stretched over the canvass.

Like the focused chaos of each layer of the painting, autistic children

typically get extremely focused on one specific thing, but lose track of

everything else. Activities, thoughts or emotions suddenly develop

intense meaning only discernible by the individual.

At times, autistics develop abilities that border on genius, such as the

ability to count cards or play a piece of music after hearing it only

once.

“One of the children didn’t understand what we were doing today,” Hasson

said. “It had no meaning for him.”

Following this illusive ray of “meaning” is how Hassan and other teachers

at the Speech and Language Development Center reach into the children’s

fragile existence to pull them out into the world -- to show them that

the outside indeed has meaning for them.

“If you go where they are and get into their world, you’ll get very

close,” Hasson said.

She worked with one boy who collected bottle caps incessantly. Hasson

used the caps to show him how to count, to reward him for good work, and

in doing so, learned to speak his language.

As for Andy, while the other children rambled over the playground, he

spent the afternoon searching for smooth stones.

“I’m trying to find the big flattest rock,” Andy said, concentrating on

the sand as he walked away from the bay toward the yellow school bus.

“He’ll be talking about it tomorrow, too,” said Hasson.