Spring Semester Profile Story

“These are my kids,” says Ahmed, pacing around a room full of teenage mentally handicapped children. “They’re just as normal as any other teenagers.”

Ahmed smiles as one autistic child name Mikey, who walks only on his tip-toes, nimbly trails him until catching up, and then fervently takes his hand and just stands there by Ahmed’s side. Ahmed, at least six feet tall and two hundred pounds, completely dwarfs the more average sized and skinny Mikey, and yet it makes no difference in how comfortable Mikey is at his side.

Around them are about eight other such adolescents whose mental disabilities have severely slowed down their process of learning, communication, and social interaction. Ahmed, who has worked at the Robert Joliculeur School at Easterseals in Manchester, New Hampshire for seven years, finds that working there has given him a wider perception of the world, especially the children who suffer from Autism, Down’s Syndrome, and many other forms of mental retardation, and also how the world reacts to them.

“Most people don’t understand them,” he says, embracing the shoulders of another child named Timmy. “They want to be loved just like any other child wants to. But because most people don’t understand them, they get scared of what they don’t understand. And the kids may not understand many things, but they can sense that, feel how people react to them.”

Later, sitting down in the Family Room, where parents who visit their children can spend private time with their sons or daughters, Ahmed sat down at a desk cooling his hot French Vanilla Coffee and took a seat. His eyes are tired and yet his body is relaxed in his chair, leaning back as he takes a sip from his drink. “These kids, its amazing how far they’ve come. Look at Mikey,” he says, taking another sip. “When he first started here, he would not let go of blanket. He’d cover up with three or four blankets and would always hit his head to the point that we had to put a helmet on his head and mitts on his hand. And look at him now.”

And it was true. The Mikey in the Boys 1 common room had no blankets and no head gear, and no gloves. “It all takes persistence, and a love for the job. Some people cannot take it. We’ve had people come here and leave in weeks.”

But it hasn’t been an easy journey for Ahmed. Though his passion has been great for the kids, it has taken a toll on his private life. Long hours, sometimes 14 to 16 hour days (or more) have taken too much time out of his family life and put on a strain on his marriage. All he can do is slowly shake his head and lightly shrug. “It’s tough, it really is. All I can do is take it one day at a time. This place, these kids, need a lot of time. And that can be hard for someone to understand.”

But he remains hopeful. “I’m glad to see that the world, especially the U.S., is growing more aware of these children. Autism research is growing, documentaries are coming out, people are learning. Now all we have to do is make them see these children for what they are.”

Later, back at the Unit, Ahmed goes from child to child, and while some of these children seem uncomfortable around some people around, all of them respond well with Ahmed. Normally quiet, unsocial individuals looked up to Ahmed with their own quirky expressions, some smiling, others giving a short grin, some holding onto him, some playing with his hands, and so on.

“These kids are no different from any other teenagers. They have tantrums, they get happy, they have favorite foods and they have things they don’t like so much.” He stops to look at all the kids around him, looking from his far left to his far right, and then smiles. “They just need the chance to be normal.”