Inland Valley Voice
INLAND VALLEY
Technological triumphs
Ontario special education teacher uses cameras, computers and other devices to motivate her kids and give them skills for the work world.
By Joanna Corman / joanna.corman@latimes.com
It's circle time in Sandy Ayala's class. She strums her guitar as her students sing an alphabet song. She summons student Brody Reeter to the video camera.
"R-E-C. Do you see R-E-C?"
Brody finds the
button and hits it, recording the session. He dances behind
the camera and she coaxes him to sing, to stand in front of
the lens, and be part of the event. The Hawthorne
Elementary School class records itself on a regular basis.
In fact, high-tech gadgetry, including a digital camera and
PowerPoint presentations, is an integral part of each day's
lessons.
The class is an experiment Ayala started in September at
the Ontario school. As a special education teacher, some of
her students take the class several years in a row. She
didn't want the lessons to become stale. So Ayala decided
to make a drastic change.
Last year she had just two computers in her classroom. Why
not get enough for everybody, she thought. The result was
what Ayala calls "the first high-tech multihandicapped
class."
"I really believe in [technology] as an effective teaching
tool," she said. "If the kids are motivated by it, they
will learn by it."
The technology used in the class helps shape the kids'
behavior. Through it, they learn about the world and how to
read and write. With the cameras they record their year.
It's a way for them to see their progress, but they also
learn how to behave. Ayala tapes examples of good behavior
and plays it back to them when they don't understand her
instructions or act up.
Mastering the computers and other high-tech gadgets gives
them a sense of accomplishment. But her motivations for
using the equipment go beyond the school year. Ayala wants
to ensure that when her students are old enough to work,
they have options beyond menial labor -- they will be able
to compete in a technically advanced work world.
The technology does something else. It gives them something
in common with mainstream students, who tend to either be
polite and wave on the playground, or tease, Ayala said.
She has a classroom full of 9- to 14-year-olds who read and
write at the level of 5- to 7-year-olds, but their
technical skills are much higher. The children have a range
of physical and mental disabilities. It is considered a
moderate to severely handicapped class.
"We're the lowest functioning special-ed class on campus
but the most technically advanced," Ayala said.
The children spend two to three hours a day using
computers, whether seated in front of their own monitors or
looking on a big screen as the kids take turns using the
programs.
The technology becomes a way to show the kids how to behave
and what to expect. If they're having trouble lining up,
Ayala said she will show a movie she has already made of
them lining up at the door. It works better than telling
them what to do because they can't always process spoken
words. It works better than a store-bought card with stick
figures because there is no familiarity in that. If a child
is acting up, she can engage him in the class by asking him
to operate the video camera, for example. They perform for
the camera.
"They love to watch themselves," she said.
There's been a huge change in her students' behavior and
technical savvy the past nine months, she said. In the
beginning, some of her students stared into space. Some
threw tantrums. They screamed and pushed their desks over.
But they began responding to the cameras and the computers.
"I have kids who can't say the alphabet in a row but they
can operate a mouse and a CD-ROM drive," Ayala said. "Kids
who don't write their names are already typing their names.
I trust $2,000 machines to them."
The classroom is stocked with eight computers, a digital
camera, video camera, scanner, three VCRs, a TV, a large
screen, speakers, amplifiers and microphones.
"They don't read well," Ayala said. "They don't write well.
They don't process. You put papers in front of them, they
get stressed, throw it on the floor, break pencils."
Take Brody Reeter.
When he started in her class, "He had very little
language," Ayala said. "He was so wild. He said 'no' and he
said 'stop.' He writes now and he says his name and he
speaks."
Brody, Ayala said, has oppositional defiance disorder. No
matter what you would ask of him, even if it's whether he
wants to eat ice cream, he would say, "no."
"He just needs to have control," said Ayala, a professional
musician who has been teaching special education for four
years.
When James Jennings entered Ayala's classroom two years
ago, he knocked kids over and hid under his desk. James,
who has Down's syndrome and turned 12 last week, behaved
well at home. But school stressed him out. He had a
one-on-one aide to help him through the day.
While his mother, Joanne, can't say how much of James'
progress can be attributed to the technology he uses at
school, she says it does make a difference.
"I'm sure it has to be because of the computer skills. ...
She has shaped my son's behavior so much he can consider
coming into junior high now without an aide," Jennings
said. "None of those behaviors exist anymore."
When Logan Grubbs entered Ayala's class three years ago, he
couldn't type. His former teacher either didn't take the
time to show him, said his mother, Lauren, or Logan was so
unhappy he didn't participate in class. Logan, who turns 14
this month, has mental and physical disabilities because he
was born hydrocephalic -- he had water on his brain.
The technology, Grubbs said, "makes him feel stronger and
more in control of his environment. When he's around other
kids that are a lot more advanced, this is a way he can
express himself."
The technology Ayala and her students use helps bring
special education and mainstream students together. After
Sept. 11, Ayala and her students completed a multimedia
project that involved the entire school. They collected
socks and gloves for firefighters and police officers by
handing out fliers in each room. Ayala's students took
digital pictures of the other students holding the fliers.
They went on the Internet to see how kids from other
countries were reacting. They wrote a song and taught it to
the entire school and then recorded the group sing-along.
They took photos of students holding candles. Finally, they
made a PowerPoint slide show of the images and music and
showed it to their fellow students.
The technology has "brought friends to my kids' lives,"
Ayala said. "They're having a greater year because they're
more accepted and participating in typical activities."
When students without disabilities look at this work, they
see special education kids differently, Ayala said.
"It changes their perspective on their abilities and who
they are and what they might be capable of. ... It's
helping to really change an image. It brings a common
language. All kids speak video, PlayStation, Nintendo,
computer software. It doesn't matter who you are."
There's another reason why Ayala is so enthusiastic about
high technology. She wants to ensure that her students,
when they enter the work force, have competitive jobs.
"I think my kids are really going to have a better chance
when they get out of school," she said. "They are going to
be so much more independent and so much more ready for a
job in the work force."
It's work that has blossomed into a business, Sandbox
Learning Tools. Ayala produces CDs with her students,
together writing the songs. She acts as a consultant in
other special education classrooms in the San Bernardino
County superintendent of schools, the jurisdiction her
class falls under. She helps families shop for computers
and other equipment for their children, based on the
child's disability.
None of that matters to Ashleigh Lininger. Ashleigh was
born with agenesis corpus callosum, a condition in which
the membrane connecting the two hemispheres of the brain is
missing. She is 12 and just learning to read. Ashleigh
"always lights up" when she listens to Ayala's "Sing On"
CD, said her father, Chris. Ashleigh takes pride in her
computer skills.
But every once in awhile Ashleigh will tell this story.
When she went to meet Ayala for the first time, Ayala gave
the girl a hug. Ashleigh asked if they could take a walk.
They did, hand in hand.
"The reason I know this is that Ashleigh has told me that
story and repeated it every six months," Lininger said. "I
really liked her," Ashleigh would say of her teacher,
"because she was kind and loving."
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