The classroom bustled with activitiy, children roaming about, most doing as they were told and preparing to do a new activity. I was watching to be sure the children were doing as asked of them, noting those who didnt, the usual "trouble makers" of the class. My attention turned to the main table in the room when I heard the whines and garbled protests of Micheal. Micheal was a heavily autistic boy, having trouble vocalizing what he wanted, or what was wrong, usually breaking down to throwing a fit and yowling, and throwing things. It was the usual tantrum, the feline TA attempting to get him to draw something the pup didnt want to draw.

"You need to draw a snowman, Micheal." The feline hissed in frustration as the pup whined, jerking his head from side to side and shoving the papers away. "Micheal!" The cat snapped, trying to grab the papers away from him. "Stop it Micheal! You have to draw what I say!" The demand merely got more whining and kicking as he shoved at the table. "Oooh! Fine!" The feline remarked and got up, storming off in a huff.

Micheal settled down once she was gone, taking up his crayons and drawing what he wanted. I crept closer, smiling as I watched over his shoulder as he drew a squiggly figure with eight limbs. I knew his favorite hero at the moment was spiderman, the lab puppy wearing a spiderman t-shirt under his "hug vest".

"Thats a nice drawing Micheal." I said as I knelt beside him, smiling back as he beamed a smile at me and went back to drawing. I watched a little longer, feeling a glare at my back. "You know you are supposed to draw a snowman.." I said, watching the smile fade and hearing a faint whine as the pup tensed, ready to throw another fit. "How about you draw me a spider snowman?" I suggest. It got a tilt of the head from the puppy, and I smiled at him. "Can you draw me a spider snowman?" I asked him, watching as he smiled and nodded enthusiastically, and set about drawing a snowman with eight spider legs...

---

This is a rather fond memory of mine. I used to have the dream of becoming a teachers aid in a handicap preschool class. I was pretty good at it, when I got the chance to go to my mother's class during high school. Micheal was one of my favorite students, a pretty little boy with blond hair and big blue eyes. He was heavily autistic, and would throw temper tantrums when trying to get him to do something else. For most he was hard to handle and i learned most the time he was left alone since no one wanted to deal with him. But it just took trying to figure out how to appeal to him. I could usually get him to do what was asked of him.