High 5, Hunter! You’re student of the month
By William Kenny
Times Staff Writer
First impressions have not been kind to Hunter Trubisky.
Every time the Castor Gardens youngster enrolls at a new school, people seem to view him as a distraction.
Yet Trubisky proves them wrong every time. In fact, he usually ends up teaching everyone else a thing or two.
On April 26, Trubisky was recognized as Student of the Month in his kindergarten class at the J. Hampton Moore Elementary School. The 6-year-old is the only student in the class who has been diagnosed with an autism spectrum disorder.
His selection for the award had nothing to do with sympathy for his condition — or the coincidental observance of Autism Awareness Month in April — but had everything to do with his own perseverance, along with that of his dedicated caregivers.
"Hunter has socially made such great strides," said Beth Conn, Trubisky's kindergarten teacher. "Academically, when he came to us, I was amazed at how much he already knew. (Since then) he's learned how to take turns and how to sit on the rug at the appropriate times. He's learned that school is not all about playing with toys. He understands more and he's able to do it."
"I've learned more from him and his father than probably anybody else I've been around," said Timothy Glynn, the first-year principal at Moore.
Hunter was not born with symptoms of autism. According to his father Nick, the boy was born full-term and showed appropriate development for his first two years. Hunter was alert and verbal, speaking short words.
But when he was 2-1/2, Hunter's family saw a sudden change in him. The apparent metamorphosis occurred after he received a set of immunization shots. He broke out in a rash and a fever.
AN OVERNIGHT CHANGE
His father took him to the emergency room and was told that Hunter had a bad reaction to the shots. The rash and fever subsided, but within weeks Hunter's appearance and demeanor turned "blank," according to his father. The boy began sucking his fingers and twirling his hair. The rudimentary words he had spoken were replaced by silence, interrupted only by an occasional indiscernible utterance.
"He had been progressing normally. Then he became silent," Nick Trubisky said.
The single father remained in denial for a couple of months before taking the boy to a pediatrician, then to a specialist who diagnosed him as autistic. To this day, Nick Trubisky believes that the condition resulted from the immunization shots. Generally, researchers have debated for years about the possible link between immunizations and autism.
By age 3, Hunter had begun receiving occupational therapy through KenCrest, a regional service provider for children and adults with developmental disabilities. His progress there enabled his father to enroll him, along with his little brother Nicky, at the Samuel Paley Early Learning Center the following year.
Though Nick Trubisky soon realized that Hunter fared much better around "normal" kids than with other developmentally disabled ones, some in the mainstream pre-school program had other ideas. Admittedly, Hunter had some transitional issues that manifested themselves in his acting out physically. Staff members didn't know how to handle him.
"It was mainly one teacher who would run into the principal's office and say, 'Hunter's out of control. He's banging his head and throwing things,'" Nick Trubisky recalled.
TIME FOR TOUGH LOVE
The father defiantly responded to all criticisms and insisted that the school work to integrate Hunter and make him feel comfortable, rather than isolate him.
"He was there for eighteen months, including the summer. By the end of the eighteen months, Hunter was with the program. He wasn't an issue anymore," Nick Trubisky said.
"Even though Hunter wouldn't talk, he could mumble and he would read to the class. I knew he knew the words and he was just trying to formulate them."
The father credited Hunter's afternoon teacher, Pam Woods, with making key breakthroughs. Woods took a special interest in Hunter, although she worked with him only three hours a day.
As Hunter approached kindergarten age, Trubisky asked Woods if she would become his "therapeutic support staff," or TSS, and follow him to Moore Elementary.
The NorthEast Treatment Center, a local behavioral-health services agency, coordinates TSS positions for clients like Hunter. The job of a TSS is to accompany the client throughout the day to his classes, lunch recess and anywhere else he goes. If a behavioral issue arises, the TSS provides case-specific assistance to help resolve it.
Woods agreed to help Hunter assimilate to kindergarten. But after a few weeks, she had to leave the position. Another former Paley teacher, Ilana Bergman, has picked up with Hunter where Woods left off.
According to Bergman, Hunter initially met resistance at Moore similar to what he encountered at Paley. So did his father.
LIKE A STRANGER IN THE CLASSROOM
Although a school district psychologist had recommended that Hunter be placed in "a least-restrictive environment with his TSS," Nick Trubisky said, the school suggested putting the youngster into a segregated class for disabled students.
The father insisted that Hunter be placed in a mainstream class, but Hunter was largely ignored there. He wasn't involved in the lessons and would be left to wander the room on his own. Classmates didn't acknowledge him either.
"In the beginning, they had a general attitude of ignoring everything he was doing — not to be mean, just not to be disruptive," Bergman said.
His early report cards noted how he refused to sit with the class during "circle time" and rated his behavior as unsatisfactory.
"In the beginning, he didn't want to be part of the class," said Conn.
Nick Trubisky decided that further intervention was required and demanded a face-to-face meeting with the key people involved.
"We had a big meeting with the principal and I basically questioned their methods," Nick Trubisky said. "I wasn't going to let my son get lost in the system and let them say he belongs in a room with other special-needs kids."
"We met early in the year, and it wasn't all roses," said Glynn, the Moore principal.
Since then, however, teachers, administration, Nick Trubisky, Bergman, Hunter and the boy's classmates have worked together to improve the learning climate and ultimately thrive.
TEAMWORK MAKES A DIFFERENCE
The school has created an individualized education plan (IEP) for Hunter. Meanwhile, Bergman uses a variety of incentive-based techniques to coax Hunter into appropriate behaviors. Conn has taken it upon herself to learn more about autism. She and her other students have become more interactive and patient with Hunter.
"Now (classmates) all try to teach him things and try to correct him when he's doing wrong," Bergman said.
"And he corrects them when they're doing wrong," Nick Trubisky added.
One of Hunter's favorite activities is when he plays the class meteorologist.
"In front of the class, he has to tell his name, his channel and what the weather is like," Conn said. "When he's meteorologist he always gets the loudest applause."
Added Bergman: "What I've noticed most is how other kids will be impressed when they see him do something that he had trouble doing before."
With Hunter's individual success as a springboard, the principal and father want to use their experiences to help others in the school of 1,150 students.
"What Mister T and I are working on now is making people more aware in the school community, to almost use Hunter as an example of how autism works," Glynn said.
Likewise, Trubisky wants to share his experiences with other autism parents, particularly single ones like himself. He's trying to create a non-profit advocacy organization.
"I concluded that my kid is just as important as any other kid," he said. "I had faith in him that he would pick up the routine. Next year may be different because it'll be a new class, but now I'm more prepared for it and the school is more prepared."
Reporter William Kenny can be reached at 215-354-3031 or bkenny@bsmphilly.com