Peter and the Watermelon Seeds

    "How come you don't have any eyes?" asked four-year-old Peter's friend, as they sat on the floor in the block corner of their preschool classroom.

      " 'Cause my eyes got sick and the doctor had to take them out," answered Peter matter-of-factly.

      "I'm gonna build a house for my cars," announced Peter's friend.

      "Not me," replied Peter. "I'm gonna build a big, big house-- up in the sky!" He began to stack his blocks one upon the other, never losing contact with the top block as he added one more. Suddenly, the tower of blocks buckled in the middle and came tumbling down. Peter's delighted grin told how much he enjoyed building and letting his towers fall, listening to the delicious sound of blocks crashing in front of him. The boys' teacher rang her little bell to tell the children that it was time for the next activity. The boys gathered up their blocks and threw them into the box. Peter swept his hands across the floor around him to be sure he'd found all of his blocks and put them away.

      "When you have put away your toys, you can line up at the door to go outside," announced the teacher. "Peter, there's one more block near your hand. Put it in the box and then line up behind Sam." Peter found the stray block, dropped it noisily in the box, and walked quickly along the wall to the classroom door where the other children were already lining up. (Peter's early vision may be responsible for his excellent orientation in space and above-average mobility skills compared to other children with blindness.)  He touched each child lightly on the arm to see where the line began and ended, and stepped behind the last child. As the line of children moved out into the hall, Peter rested his hand on the shoulder of the child in front of him to maintain his position in line. The line broke up as the children entered the playground and they scattered toward their favorite equipment. Peter paused a moment, listened, and ran toward the swings.
 

Courage and Safety

      The itinerant teacher of children with visual impairments, Miss Murrray, arrived just as the class came outdoors to play. She approached Peter and said, "Hi, Peter. How's it going?"

      Peter acknowledged her by turning around and giving her a hug around the legs. "Hi, Miss Murray. I'm gonna swing today." Miss Murray took Peter's hand and they walked to the swings.

      "Remember what we said about swings?" asked Miss Murray. "You have to take turns and they're all full right now. But, we can wait for a turn if we walk around the swings and wait on the bench. Be sure to listen to the kids' voices and the squeaks of the swings or you might get too close and get knocked over. If you're not sure there's an empty swing, just call out and ask." Peter soon got a turn on the swings and Miss Murray took the opportunity to speak to Peter's teacher. "Hi, Vicky. How's Peter doing?"

      "No problems so far," answered Vicky Jenkins. "He gets along pretty well with most of the kids, but I do have to watch a few of the girls who want to mother him. Then again, Peter usually walks away from them himself when he's had enough hugging."

      "How is playtime outdoors working?" asked Miss Murray. I remember you were concerned about the swing safety."

      "I think Peter has gotten the idea of a wide turn around the swings. He did have a close call once -- got nudged with someone's feet. He didn't fall, but he was startled," said Vicky.

      "No harm done," said Miss Murray. "Peter has to learn how to handle himself on his own. Don't feel a need to intervene unless you feel that there's a real danger. Try to do it verbally first, providing there's time. And try not to yank him away without a warning or explanation if it can be helped. Peter needs to know why things are happening."

      "Yes," agreed Vicky. "I've noticed he asks a lot of "why's" and "what if's" lately. I try my best to let him feel whatever we're talking about. The other day he asked where the water went in the sink, so we let him put his fingers in the drain hole. Then we let him play with a funnel to show how water went in one side and out the little hole at the bottom."

      "Very creative idea!" said Miss Murray. "That's just the kind of practical, concrete experiences Peter needs. What he can't see he has to learn by touch or sound."

      The two teachers strolled toward the sliding board, following Peter as he ran in that direction. Vicky paused to settle a squabble at the slide and then continued, "I noticed that Peter doesn't like the seesaw. He refuses to even try it. Why do you suppose that is?"

      "I've noticed that with other children who are blind. I think it may be that when the seesaw lifts the child into the air, all contact with the ground is lost. The feeling of being suspended in space may be frightening. They also don't know when the seesaw is coming back down again and how fast. If you can't anticipate that bump by seeing it coming, it might be too scary to be any fun," Miss Murray speculated. "It's hard for sighted people to understand what it's like to be blind. Try to imagine an experience like an elevator or an escalator if you had no sight and you had never seen one before. What would that be like?"

      Peter was squealing with delight as he slid down the slide and bounced off the end on his feet. What an accomplishment! Miss Murray remembered Peter's first encounter with the slide, how he ran his hands over the structure and how he had to gauge the height by following its slant with his fingers. She remembered how terribly afraid he was to climb the ladder to the top, but how desperately he wanted to do what he heard the other children having fun doing. With some verbal coaxing, holding his hand as he slid down the first time, and catching him at the bottom, he finally mastered his fear. Within a relatively short time he was able to push away help and say, "Don't touch me. I can do it myself!" Soon after, he was climbing the ladder and sliding down in a variety of positions, landing safely in the sand at the bottom. Watching Peter, Miss Murray believed that he could do just about anything he wanted with a little preparation and experience.

      Returning to the classroom, Peter again found his place in line and walked with his hand on a child's shoulder. This time, Peter lost contact with the child in front of him several times, but he walked quickly and regained his position in line.
 

Expectations and Adaptations

      Back in the classroom, Peter found his seat at the table while some of the children used the bathroom. The bathroom door had a sign hanging on it. The children turned the sign to the "NO" side as they entered and back to the "YES" side when they exited out. There was a sandpaper dot on the upper righthand corner of the "NO" side so Peter could use the bathroom signal card too.

      During snacktime, Peter opened his own milk carton by feeling for the place to put his thumbs and then pressing it open. Instead of drinking his milk, Peter raised and lowered his straw in the milk to make "empty" noises. The little boy beside him started to giggle and did the same with his own carton. Before long, the table broke out into an entire chorus of squeaking milk cartons and straws. A plate of cookies put an end to the noise and Peter chose a chocolate chip one by smelling several and choosing the "chocolatey" one.

      Toward the end of snack time, Peter intentionally poured about a teaspoon of milk through his fingers and onto the table. He sat the carton down and felt the wet spot with his other hand. The teacher was about to wipe up the spill with a sponge when Miss Murray signaled for her to wait by holding up her hand. Miss Murray approached Peter and said, "Well Peter, I guess you'll have to clean that up before the movie." She placed the sponge in one of Peter's hands and guided his other hand to find the spill. When the sponge had absorbed the milk, Miss Murray said, "It's all dry now -- good. Now put the sponge in the sink and hurry on over for the movie."

      While Peter was putting the sponge in the sink, Miss Murray whispered to Vicky, "It's probably a good idea not to let him get away with doing things that you wouldn't let the other children get away with. It's not that spilling the milk was really bad. It's just that he should be held responsible for what he does, whenever possible. If he decides to pour milk on the table, he should be the one to wipe it up. He can handle that."

      The children were settling in for a videotaped movie and a little boy offered Peter the empty chair beside his own. The teacher leaned down to Peter to give him a quick introduction to what the movie was about and reminded him that he needed to listen to find out what was happening. The movie started and the children quieted down. Peter's thumb went into his mouth and his index finger into his eye socket, as he usually did when he was listening intently to something -- or when he was bored. Miss Murray put a stuffed teddy bear in Peter's lap and whispered, "You need to hold onto Mr. Bear and don't let him get away until the story is over. Help him listen too, by holding him in your lap with both hands." Peter held Mr. Bear in a death grip with both arms. The little boy who had offered Peter the chair asked if he could have an animal and Miss Murray pulled one out of the basket on the shelf. The movie was Jack and the Beanstalk, a favorite of many of the children. The two boys held their stuffed animals and echoed the giant's "Fee, fie, foe, fum" in their best and deepest "giant" voices.

      When the giant met his fate and the movie was over, the children moved back to the tables where the coloring pages and crayons were ready for use. The teacher looked quizzically at Miss Murray, as if to ask, "How can Peter color, too?" Miss Murray went to a large box in one corner of the room. The box was labeled "Peter's stuff." She took out a screenboard, which was a 12" X 18" rectangle of window screening with masking tape on all four edges to prevent scratches. She quickly attached a sheet of newspaper-weight paper to the screenboard with paper clamps and placed it in front of Peter. With a wax crayon she drew five circles, spaced well apart on the paper. Peter's fingers eagerly searched the paper for the raised-line "balls" and found all five. Miss Murray showed Peter how to color one of the balls with a crayon. She then asked what color he wanted to make the next ball and Peter decided on red. Peter did the rest of the balls by himself. Although he didn't stay in the lines very well, he was able to fill in enough of the spaces within the circles to feel the "balls" he had colored by himself. He was proud when the other children got stickers on their papers and he did too. His was a "sniffy sticker" ("scratch 'n' sniff" sticker). This was definitely a piece of artwork for the refrigerator at home!

      After completing his coloring page, Peter asked to use the bathroom. He followed the wall with his hand, found the bathroom door, checked the sign, and turned it over to the "NO" side before entering.

      The teacher took advantage of Peter's absence to ask a question, "I noticed that you asked Peter what color he wanted to use. Colors are a big topic for children this age -- we're always talking about what color things are. To tell you the truth, it makes me feel awkward to talk about colors in front of Peter. It almost seems rude."

      "I know what you mean," acknowledged Miss Murray. "I suppose I asked Peter what color he wanted more to give him a choice -- some control -- than anything else. Color is a part of our world, and Peter will hear about it his whole life. There's no sense in pretending it doesn't exist. If you think it confuses him, perhaps you could use some scented markers for his coloring for now. But don't avoid talking about what color things are. He'll need to know what color the grass is, the color of water, the sky, a banana.... even if he will never see them himself."

      The conversation was interrupted by sounds from the bathroom. Peter was singing to himself -- short tunes with pauses every few seconds. Miss Murray smiled and the teacher asked, "And that singing--does that have anything to do with being blind? He does it every time he goes into the bathroom."

      Miss Murray explained that Peter could be experimenting with echoes and how they bounce off the walls and objects. "Some blind children do this to help orient themselves within closed areas," she said. "It's relatively unconscious behavior and it can actually be quite useful in some situations, if it doesn't disturb others. It can be discouraged after a particular area, like the bathroom, has been explored thoroughly. Just give him a simple reminder such as, 'We heard your singing all the way out here in the classroom! Can you please keep it quieter next time? It won't bother anyone that way.' "

      Peter returned from the bathroom and headed over to a corner where he heard a group of children playing with cars and trucks. It was free play and the children busied themselves with assorted toys and make-believe play. The teachers continued to talk while they monitored the chidren's play. Vicky asked why Peter kept his head down so often, especially when he wasn't really involved in an activity.

      Miss Murray explained, "When a child is blind, like Peter, there isn't any real reason to hold his head up. There's nothing to see. The child has to learn to hold his head up just because it's the way other people do it and because it looks nice. Peter will probably need reminders to hold his head up and additional motivation like 'Let me see that handsome face of yours' to help Peter develop the habit of holding his head erect." Miss Murray continued to explain that children who have some vision do just the opposite. They gaze at any strong light source and have to be reminded to look away. Children may also shake their heads from side to side as a means of stimulation or as a way of orienting to sound.

      "Every child is different," concluded Miss Murray, "and it's probably best to try and figure out what the child is getting out of an unusual behavior before trying to modify it."
 

A New Experience

      The last activity of the day was a watermelon party. The class went out on the grass near the classroom door to begin the festivities. The teacher placed the watermelon in the middle of the circle of children and they all admired it and talked about how it grew. The teacher encouraged the children to touch it and allowed them to try and pick up the "monster melon."

      Peter was fascinated, "Boy, this is real, real, big!" he exclaimed, trying to lift up one end of the melon. "I bet my Dad could pick it up though. He's real strong." He ran his hands along the sides and ends of the melon and then commented, "It's like a ball.... but not really... just sorta like a ball."

      The teacher made the first cut, lengthwise, and then she and Miss Murray each took a group of children to cut the two halves into smaller pieces. One at a time, the children were allowed to help cut their own slice of watermelon. When Peter's turn came, Miss Murray guided his hands so that he could feel the knife cutting into the wet, slippery watermelon. The children were soon busy biting, chewing, spitting seeds, and enjoying the sloppy affair. But Peter stood immobile. He was holding his watermelon in front of him with the pink juice running down his arms. He looked forlorn and helpless, seeming not to know what to do with the slice of watermelon. It then dawned on Miss Murray that Peter may have never experienced watermelon before or perhaps he couldn't relate this cold slab of wetness to the neat chunks he may have been given at home.

      She took Peter's index finger and poked it into the pink part of the melon and then into the firmer rind. She explained that the soft part was for eating, but there were small, hard bits called "seeds" all mixed up in it. She helped Peter find a seed and feel how hard and slippery it was. She then encouraged him to take a bite and asked him if his teeth or tongue had found any seeds yet. Perplexed, he nodded his head "yes," but he didn't know how to spit them out. They just slid down his chin. Miss Murray coaxed Peter to blow the seeds out, but he was only minimally successful. Even so, he managed to get a few seeds into the air instead of on his chin. From the look on Peter's face, it was safe to say that he did not especially enjoy this new experience. This was confirmed when Peter announced sheepishly, "I like my Mom's watermelon better -- hers doesn't have seeds."

      The buckets of water available for clean up were the source of as much fun as the watermelon itself. The splashing of water and giggling that accompanied it were much more to Peter's liking. In the midst of the fun, a taller version of Peter strode into view and said, "Hey there, Buddy.... watcha doin'?"

      Peter turned and hugged his dad's knees. "Guess what, Dad? We had watermelon today, and guess what? I know how to spit now! I can show you how to spit. Wanna see me spit? I can show Mommy how to spit too. What d'ya think of that, huh?"

      Peter's father smiled, patted his son on the back, and said, "Okay, Buddy, we'll go home and show Mommy how to spit. Find my pocket and let's go." Peter put his fingers in his dad's back pocket and followed him toward the gate.
 

This case story originally appeared in McWilliam, P.J., & Bailey, D., (Eds.). Working Together with Children & Families, Case Studies in Early Intervention. (1993). Baltimore: Paul H. Brookes Publishing Co.

Peter and the Watermelon Seeds
Discussion Questions