James Pitblado picks up six strands of multi-coloured yarn-one end of their two-foot length is tied into a knot and taped to a classroom table. The opposite ends hang loose so individual strings can be crossed over one another to create a woven friendship bracelet.
Pitblado, a lanky 17-year-old St. George's independent school student, is working with Jared Astudillo, a Grade 8 student at Windermere.
Astudillo is in the Lifeskills class, home to 13 Grade 8 to 12 students with varying degrees of intellectual disabilities. The school can't reveal the students' disabilities for privacy reasons.
Pitbaldo directs Astudillo's movements, guiding his hands as the two novices try to master the unexpectedly intricate craft project. "You can do it. Pull them apart. There you go. Now, put the orange one over top of the white one. Wait. No. Go back for a sec. I told you to do it wrong. My fault. My fault," Pitblado says. "You've got to wrap this one around, then come back up here OK? You want me to show you one more time? You've got to come around like this and then back up through the hole. It's a bit of a knot and then you pull it tight."
Astudillo, a shy teen with a sweet voice, watches intently. When a knot is successful, the 13-year-old smiles broadly and claps his hands together silently.
Tamara Maxim, his teacher, is pleased. "That's a sign of pure joy," she says. Maxim describes Astudillo as a talented artist who often illustrates his journal entries. The teen is integrated into three classes-phys ed, foods and art, and takes yoga lessons. He's "very interested" in the Food Network, particularly the program Cupcake Wars.
On this rainy mid-February morning, a handful of St. George's students are visiting the East Side high school to help the Lifeskills class design friendship bracelets thanks to a mentorship program called Each One, Teach One. It's meant to benefit both groups of teens, so mentors and mentees walk away with a greater understanding of each other.
"My goal is that everybody feels they've made a difference in somebody's life," Maxim says. "It will be hard for the kids in St. George's to forget that in their senior years of high school they made friends with somebody who in some ways was so different from them, but in some ways so much the same. They're all just kids that want to have friends."
The relationship between Windermere and St. George's de-veloped courtesy of the Each One, Teach One mentorship program based at Alderwood Family Development Centre, a Â鶹´«Ã½Ó³»program serving families that have children with severe behavioural or emotional problems.
Brian Lee, St. George's, who was recently promoted to associate principal, launched that initiative in 2007. (It was a relaunch of a program run by Patrick Dyck, St. George's previous director of student services, between 2001 and 2004).
Maxim worked with Lee when she taught at Alderwood. When she landed a teaching position at Windermere this scholastic year, they agreed to collaborate on a mentorship program for her Lifeskills class and a rare public private school partnership was born.
Every few weeks St. George's students visit Windermere, or vice versa, for activities ranging from swimming and reading to arts and crafts. Field trips are planned occasionally. Last October, they travelled to a pumpkin patch. Next month there's an aquarium trip. St. George's transports all the students in its school bus.
Maxim, a youthful-looking UBCtrained teacher, runs the Lifeskills class with the help of four student support staff. During a visit to the class mid-January, paper-bag dragons and craft paper lanterns hang from the ceiling, produced by students in honour of Chinese New Year. The art-filled room with 1970s-era furniture is divided into several sections, including work tables, a family-style seating area and a spot for computer work stations. A schedule marked on a white, erasable board outlines the day's activities, including calendar time, where students review days of the week, and story time, where one student flips pages while classmates listen to Maxim reading.
Two students munch on snacks at one table, while another wanders around, compelled to perform repetitive tasks. Three tap on computer keyboards. A particularly tactile-minded student tries to examine the reporter's notepad, pen, and Smartphone.
Most of the non-verbal students typically spend mornings on outings to learn practical skills such as riding the SkyTrain, while the rest stay at the school. A few higher functioning students such as Astudillo are integrated into regular classes to varying degrees for subjects like dance, art, physical education and food studies. One student goes to math class, although he works at his own level. Students won't earn high school diplomas, but they'll get leaving certificates. Maxim considers the mentorship program a learning opportunity for all involved, which adds particular value to her students' education.
"One of the biggest travesties is we underestimate our human potential. The greatest gains we can make in life are when we push the limits and expect more and do more. And these kids are so capable and are so willing and they're so much fun," she says. "They have such a great spirit. Why be treated differently? Why not have mentors? Why not have special programs? Why not have friendships? As an educator, I want to advocate for these kids to have what's right for them-what they deserve."
A sharply dressed Lee works out of a small, but tidy office at St. George's, a private all-boys senior school at 4175 West 29th Ave., a pricey neighbourhood on the edge of Pacific Spirit Regional Park.
The St. Francis Xavier alumnus has an impressive CV that includes an undergraduate degree, an education degree and a master's degree. He was also a star university basketball player. But he says it was the two years he spent as a teenager at a large Bronx, New York high school, replete with security guards, that helped shape his thoughts about exposing students to a broad array of situations-a philosophy reflected in the mentorship programs. "It's about getting our kids out of their comfort zone," Lee explains.
Private schools are often criticized for limiting entry to an academically minded student body, and Lee acknowledges the vast majority is university-bound, but he insists it isn't a "mono-cultural" environment and students aren't without problems.
"There's an interest in rounding out our class so that it is somewhat diverse and more representative than what you might see out there," he says. "I will tell you [they have] a far more diverse and eclectic background than people would think."
Eight of the school's Grade 11 and 12 students are involved in the Windermere mentoring program, two of whom have brothers with developmental disabilities, according to Lee. Participants go through training with psychologists and social workers to learn how to work with kids with intellectual disabilities and what to be mindful about.
St. George's students can use the volunteer experience towards 30 hours of service hours required for graduation in B.C., but most have more than enough hours so they don't.
Lee says once activities are arranged and the two groups meet, "You just kind of sit back and watch the magic happen."
"Once they're together a lot of things happen organically and naturally," he explains. Lee hopes his students take away a greater sense of empathy and an ability to "see the inner selves of others."
P itbaldo's affinity for mentoring seems natural given he's considering a teaching career. The Grade 12 student graduates from St. George's this year-evident by the red and black football-style grad jacket he's wearing. He was also involved in the Alderwood program. Though many of the Windermere students don't speak, he maintains words aren't always needed. "Even though they may not necessarily be the best speakers, if you tell them a joke or do something that makes them feel happy, they'll still express it in the same way that anyone else would. So you know you've impacted them when they laugh or they smile or they come over to you and pat you on the arm," he says.
Volunteering has helped him appreciate advantages he's been afforded in life. "If something doesn't go my way, instead of pouting or moaning about it, [I think] pick up your socks and carry on because they don't have everything they want-they don't have it perfect. Even if there's a little damper on your day, whenever we're there, they're always smiling or laughing. So I try to have the same outlook on life as they do."
Jake Salcudean, a fellow mentor, says the more time he spends with Windermere students the more he recognizes their strengths and abilities. "At first you feel awful. Here you are growing up and you'll be able to go off and live independently and there are kids who are maybe two years younger than you who will have to have support for the rest of their lives," he says. "But once you get to know the kids and you realize that they're really just happy, bubbly people, that [feeling] diminishes."
Like Pitbaldo, Salcudean says his fortunate upbringing provides motivation to volunteer. "We're so privileged, especially on the West Side and going to an expensive private school. We're given so many opportunities that it's really nice to give back to the community and give back to kids."
Andy Lu, an athletic, outgoing St. George's student, joined Each One, Teach One after working at a summer day camp where he spent time with an autistic boy. The child's parents remarked about the impact the relationship had on their son at the end of the summer, so Lu looked for a similar opportunity when school resumed. "It's what our school teaches-to give back to the community and become a well-rounded kid, not just to focus on academics or athletics," he adds. "I get a lot of happiness doing this and helping out. You do the smallest thing and it brings a lot of happiness."
A dozen basketballs slam against St. George's gymnasium floor producing a deafening din. Windermere students have joined their St. George's counterparts to throw some balls around and the sudden eruption of noise causes one sound-sensitive Windermere student to plug his ears.
Balls fly in random directions, chased by a chaotic mix of casually dressed Windermere and uniformed St. George's students. Salcudean bounces a ball back and forth to 14-year-old mentee Ramandeep Saroya, a quiet, sweet-natured teen with short dark hair. Lucas MacFayden, a tall, blond 18-year-old who's filling in for an unavailable mentor this visit, coaches Collin Singh to shoot a basket. MacFayden asks Singh to step closer and bend his knees. Singh tosses the ball towards the net then turns away before finding out if he sunk the shot-the act more enjoyable than the outcome.
Lu stands behind 15-year-old Aneesh Bangar, a special Olympian known for his happy disposition. Lu's arms form a half-circle around Bangar as he corrects his shooting form.
But it's Teresa Lowe, a talkative 15year-old Lifeskills student who calls the St. George's boys "real fabulous," who turns out to be a star player. Lowe, a natural leader and member of Windermere's student council, lands two baskets in quick succession. "That's two for two," Maxim says, cheering her on before students line up for one final shot. MacFayden retreats to the sidelines, settling beside Vincent Bermoy, a quiet, fashion-conscious teenager whose mother packs him a gourmet lunch daily.
Bermoy is alone on the bench and the pair holds hands, unnoticed in the commotion. MacFayden then casually leans forward to tie the 14-year-old's shoe.
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