Chicken Soup for the Soul: Children with Special Needs by Jack Canfield
Authors: Jack Canfield
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with her partner, Steve, and three children—Jaimie (four), Jordhan (two), and new baby boy, Xander. She’s a freelance writer, completing a B.A. in psychology. She eventually wants to specialize in developmental neuropsychology to help children and families with special needs. Jaimie has made excellent progress since her diagnosis. Her verbal skills are strong, she loves music and art, and she’s slowly building up her courage to venture out of the boundaries of her strict routine to try new things. She’ll even be attending a special preschool class with her sister, Jordhan, very soon. Please email Chynna at [email protected].
A Whale of a Time
Last year, we went to Niagara Falls and found out that nearby Marineland had orcas. Our son, Sam, has loved killer whales since he was about a year old. The walls in his room are covered in posters and picture calendars of orcas, and we have dozens of orca toys: plastic, plush, large and small, plus magnets, stickers, and pillowcases. And did I mention books? We have countless books on whales and dolphins, but mostly orcas. Free Willy? He’s a friend we watch nearly every day.
So off we went to Marineland on Thursday, August 16, 2005. Once in the park, we headed straight for Friendship Cove, home of four orcas. I can’t tell you how excited we all were to watch Sam’s face as he saw, for the first time in his life, a real killer whale. It was a moment to remember, followed by many more that weekend. We purchased tickets to stand with the trainer, and feed and pet an orca.
After a full day of fun with the family at the park, Sam and I returned for a second day—nine hours just standing at the tanks, watching the whales. Sam was in heaven. As we left, he said, “Good-bye, whales. See you next year.”
From the day we departed Canada, Sam started talking about returning on Thursday, August 17, 2006. If you know a child with autism, you know that you have to talk about the upcoming trip daily, like twenty times a day. Fast-forward to this past August. Sam was ready, wearing the same shirt as last year so the whales would recognize him. We got to Friendship Cove, and there were no more ticket sales for feeding the whales! The activity had been replaced with a new Splash Show. Sure, the Splash Show was fantastic and fascinating, but I could see the despair and confusion on my sweet boy’s face. We stayed for two shows, took lots of photos and video, saw the rest of the park, went on rides, and returned to say good-bye to the whales. Sam and I came back again for a second day.
We planted ourselves into position, as we had been last year, to spend the day watching the whales swim around their wide-open tanks. We were literally two feet away from those beautiful mammals. The Splash Show took place every hour and a half. People would start filing into the area ten minutes before showtime, then disperse twenty minutes later, soaking wet.
The trainers noticed we were there—and still there, and again, still there. We started up a conversation with one of the attendants, who asked Sam about the pile of books he was carrying. This young man, Nicholas, recognized that Sam was no ordinary child, and tried to keep him engaged in conversation. One thing became obvious to Nicholas— Sam adored the whales! Then, just prior to the next Splash Show, the “host” of the event, Sean, came over to talk with Sam. I could feel myself leaving my body—you know, that kind of moment you have when something really good is happening. Time stands still, you can barely speak, and tears flood down your face. Sean told Sam, “I could really use a helper for the show. Do you think you could helpme?” What did he just say? Dear God, thank you. If I could have felt my legs at that moment, I would have dropped to my knees.
The show began. Mike and Kendra, the whale trainers, introduced themselves to this hysterical mom with winks and smiles. Sean went up to the microphone and introduced Sam
A Whale of a Time
Last year, we went to Niagara Falls and found out that nearby Marineland had orcas. Our son, Sam, has loved killer whales since he was about a year old. The walls in his room are covered in posters and picture calendars of orcas, and we have dozens of orca toys: plastic, plush, large and small, plus magnets, stickers, and pillowcases. And did I mention books? We have countless books on whales and dolphins, but mostly orcas. Free Willy? He’s a friend we watch nearly every day.
So off we went to Marineland on Thursday, August 16, 2005. Once in the park, we headed straight for Friendship Cove, home of four orcas. I can’t tell you how excited we all were to watch Sam’s face as he saw, for the first time in his life, a real killer whale. It was a moment to remember, followed by many more that weekend. We purchased tickets to stand with the trainer, and feed and pet an orca.
After a full day of fun with the family at the park, Sam and I returned for a second day—nine hours just standing at the tanks, watching the whales. Sam was in heaven. As we left, he said, “Good-bye, whales. See you next year.”
From the day we departed Canada, Sam started talking about returning on Thursday, August 17, 2006. If you know a child with autism, you know that you have to talk about the upcoming trip daily, like twenty times a day. Fast-forward to this past August. Sam was ready, wearing the same shirt as last year so the whales would recognize him. We got to Friendship Cove, and there were no more ticket sales for feeding the whales! The activity had been replaced with a new Splash Show. Sure, the Splash Show was fantastic and fascinating, but I could see the despair and confusion on my sweet boy’s face. We stayed for two shows, took lots of photos and video, saw the rest of the park, went on rides, and returned to say good-bye to the whales. Sam and I came back again for a second day.
We planted ourselves into position, as we had been last year, to spend the day watching the whales swim around their wide-open tanks. We were literally two feet away from those beautiful mammals. The Splash Show took place every hour and a half. People would start filing into the area ten minutes before showtime, then disperse twenty minutes later, soaking wet.
The trainers noticed we were there—and still there, and again, still there. We started up a conversation with one of the attendants, who asked Sam about the pile of books he was carrying. This young man, Nicholas, recognized that Sam was no ordinary child, and tried to keep him engaged in conversation. One thing became obvious to Nicholas— Sam adored the whales! Then, just prior to the next Splash Show, the “host” of the event, Sean, came over to talk with Sam. I could feel myself leaving my body—you know, that kind of moment you have when something really good is happening. Time stands still, you can barely speak, and tears flood down your face. Sean told Sam, “I could really use a helper for the show. Do you think you could helpme?” What did he just say? Dear God, thank you. If I could have felt my legs at that moment, I would have dropped to my knees.
The show began. Mike and Kendra, the whale trainers, introduced themselves to this hysterical mom with winks and smiles. Sean went up to the microphone and introduced Sam
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