She knows how to be a friend
Fatima is 11 and attends first-year secondary school, a few hours each day. Her classmates say this about her:
I like dancing, singing, and playing with Fatima at Tau when I visit her. We sing songs from Zecchino d'Oro together, read books, and dance to CRE songs and kuduro. She's really nice and kind, always knows how to lift your spirits, and never stops smiling. She's a bit of a chatterbox—in a good way, since she's a girl and loves to talk: at school she talks when the teacher is talking, and when we decide on games, she almost always wants to do what she suggested. So she's stubborn. But she's fun, she's one of a kind, and she knows how to be a friend. I'd like to go to Castione with her, sleep at her house, and play pretend. And tell each other lots of secrets.
Paolo
Can I give you cuddles?
Christopher is four, but still too young for nursery school. He doesn't ask for much—just someone's attention. One of his favorite days is Friday, when Cinzia comes to Tau to give him massages.
When I decided to share a volunteer experience at Tau with my teenage daughter, I was delighted that she carried the same thought in her heart. It's beautiful to talk about the same people, to share the same things, even when it seems your children are drifting a bit away. I'm a professional nurse and infant massage instructor. For years I've worked in early childhood services, but I'd never cared for children with special needs until now. At Tau, beyond finding a welcoming place, I felt as though I were part of a family. In my work as a massage instructor, I teach parents the techniques and they massage their own child. Here in the community, massage is an established practice, and the educators are the ones who do it.
I don't think I have anything to teach, but I believe I've learned a great deal from the educators, and especially from the children who allowed me to enter into relationship with them. One of the fundamental things about infant massage is asking permission—I can only massage a child if he allows it.
It wasn't easy to stay constantly attuned to Christopher and his needs, trying to understand his channels of communication. I realized it took time. Yes—time is what helps and reassures in all relationships. Massage is both giving and receiving, and every time I leave through that door, I feel I have received much. Thank you.
Cinzia
And then we got married
Andrea is five and attends a multiethnic nursery school. He likes being the center of his classmates' attention, and he's a heartbreaker.
What do you like to do with Andrea?
I like cuddling him and petting him. I like playing balloon games with him. I really like petting him, and I loved being Andrea's mom and cuddling him. I like pushing him when we're in the big room. I like dreaming about him. I loved the forest game when Andrea was sitting among the leaves and we threw leaves on him and he was happy and surprised, wiggling and opening his mouth and eyes wide, kicking his feet. And then messing up his hair and making him mad, watching his face light up when the teacher calls the kids to order, making raspberry sounds on his belly and neck, tickling him so much.
What do you like about Andrea?
I like that he's always happy, and he's a little sweetie that makes me happy when I'm sad. I like him because he has blue eyes.
What would you want to tell him?
That I love him—that we want him to understand how much we love him and we help him by cuddling him when he needs it, when he eats, when his head drops, when he slips while sitting on the cushions. I dreamed that the teacher was taking Andrea outside in his wheelchair, and suddenly he got out of his chair and started to walk. Then Andrea and I got married.
A classic cowboy
Since Daniele came to us, I spend most of my time with him, and over these eleven months a kind of masculine complicity has grown between us—a joking "defense" against all the women and girls in the community. He reminds me of the classic cowboy from Western movies, like Clint Eastwood: calm, kind, gentle. But when something makes him angry, like in any self-respecting Western film, he doesn't hesitate to show the other side of the coin. The greatest difficulty I have with him is interpreting his long silences: when he doesn't feel like communicating, it becomes hard to connect. On the other hand, I like to think that one of his great struggles is putting up with my long-winded speeches.
Paolo
Moments with Linfa
I remember a Saturday afternoon: when I arrived, Linda was there in her walker waiting for me. We played and read a story together, then the educator and I noticed she was getting a bit tired, so we put her in her crib. She squeezed my finger and fell asleep in less than ten minutes. In that moment I felt something beautiful: I think seeing a child who looks at you with eyes full of light, and then squeezes your finger to fall asleep, is the most wonderful thing.
Jessica
Who knows what he'll be
Mattia is twelve and attends an enhanced school program. He does some activities with his 4B classmates, who talk about him like this.
I like painting and doing gymnastics with Mattia. Mattia is good at spinning things the way I can't. He's fun, smart, and responsible. But when he gets angry he has trouble controlling himself, and if he grabs your arm he squeezes hard because he's so strong. I don't think he has any faults, because everything he does is a strength. He's lucky because he does so many things with us. He's a really great kid! I'd like to ask him if he wants to be my friend, like a brother, but he's deaf. And who knows what he'll do when he grows up. He likes playing the wolf game because he has to chase the others and catch them. And he knows how to use the computer and drag objects with the mouse. He's great!
