Part Two: Three books that deal with children who have disabilities

Issue books, as described in the first paragraph of Part One of this article, are children’s books creatively written, in the fiction genre, which deal with situations that are quite psychological and personal in nature which children meet. These issues can be presented interestingly and subtly to children, so that they may develop good attitudes, values, insights, albeit the genre of choice is fiction, the style that of creative story-telling.

The following are three “fun” books, very readable, very entertaining, very well-written and illustrated, that deal with a very serious issue – children with disabilities.

 “Ang Batang Maraming Bawal” is a bilingual book by Fernando Rosal Gonzalez. The child’s disability remains unnamed. Opening pages show him being warned and reminded that he may not run around, may not get tired, may not do the normal things children do. To avoid being sad because of his limits, he literally takes flights of fancy. Succeeding pages show him flying all over the world to see buildings and natural wonders. He is like a balloon, like a cloud, like a bird, especially on the night of his birthday when his dad gives him all these things that can fly. At the book’s end, he happily declares he has seen the world, and needs his sleep and snuggles down, fully content with the dream worlds he visited. The disability is accepted, dealt with wisely and creatively by the father and child, and the child is pictured as happy.

“I’m Deaf And It’s Okay” by Lorraine Aseltine, Evelyn Mueller, and Nancy Tait, pictures by Helen Cogancherry. This book touches several psychological levels that should be addressed when dealing with the hearing-impaired child. The opening page shows the boy and his fears at nighttime. “It is very dark in my bedroom, and I am in bed, without my hearing aids. I can’t see much, and I can’t hear anything. Maybe that shadow in the corner is a monster! I feel alone. I am afraid. I start to cry. Mom comes right away and turns on the light. I feel better when she holds me. She signs and talks to me about how dark it seems when my hearing aids are on the night table, instead of in my ears. I can’t hear Mom at all, but I understand what she says. I watch her lips and hands as she signs to me. I put my hand on her throat and feel her voice purring as she speaks... I feel safe and warm. In a little while, I start to fall asleep.” In the succeeding pages, the deaf child goes through many experiences to which he reacts with sadness, confusion, anger. He is envious of his sister Molly who can talk on the phone. In school and in the neighborhood, insecurity floods in: ...“I see my friends looking at some pictures. They are talking and laughing. I want to see the pictures, too. Now they have stopped talking and laughing. What happened? Were they talking about me? Don’t they like me anymore? Did I do something wrong? My friend Tom shows me the pictures. He doesn’t know how to sign, but he remembers to look at me when he talks. I watch his lips, and my hearing aid helps me understand some of the words he says. Tom says, “We are talking about Halloween. What are you going to wear?” Oh, Halloween! They are talking about Halloween, not about me. I feel better. “I think I will be a clown on Halloween.” When his grandma comes to visit, he reflects: “Where is Grandma? Oh, she’s in the big chair with Molly, reading her the new book. Grandma is talking about the pictures, and Molly is laughing. I want Grandma to talk to me like that! I think Grandma likes Molly better than me because Molly can hear and talk better than I can. I feel angry! I hate Molly! I push her on the floor. I climb into Grandma’s lap myself. Now Molly is crying, and Grandma is angry at me! She says it is wrong to hurt my little sister. Why doesn’t she understand?” “Dad helps Grandma understand that sometimes I feel left out. I tell Molly I’m sorry…” He gets lost in a department store. Fearful, since he can’t communicate with anyone, he stays in one place as instructed if he ever gets separated. Finding him, mom congratulates him for remembering what to do! The next issue the story tackles is actually a reminder to us on how to behave towards the hearing-impaired. “…people make weird faces when they talk to me. They stretch their mouths wide and speak very loudly. I wonder why they do that. Do they think I’m stupid? Dad tells me that people think I can read their lips better when they stretch their mouths wide and talk loud. They don’t know very loud voices bother me. They don’t know I like it best when people don’t yell and look right at me when they talk.”

The story comes to its climax when the boy thinks wrongly that once he is grown up, he won’t need hearing aids. He reacts very angrily and desperately when told he WILL still need them. Slowly, things get resolved because of a volunteer 17-year old named Brian who comes to talk to their class. Brian says, “It’s okay to be grown-up and wear hearing aids. Really it is.” I say, “NO. It’s not okay!” Brian smiles and says he felt the same way when he was a little boy. Brian says that deaf people can do most things that hearing people do. He drives a car, takes karate lessons, and has lots of friends. After school he has a part-time job, and next year he’s going to college.” Brian accompanies the class on their field trip to the zoo where they have a good time touching the animals. On the bus back home, he sits with Brian and “He lets me wear his new watch. He talks about what he wants to study in college. He wants to be a teacher. …We are friends…I feel good inside. I think maybe it will be okay to be grown-up and wear hearing aids. Maybe I will be like Brian. Maybe I will help a little deaf friend too.” End of story. End of book. (A 2-page appendix has illustrations of basic sign language.)

“Princess Pooh” by Kathleen M. Muldoon, illustrated by Linda Shute, presents the point of view of the child who is NOT disabled. The normal child feels constantly neglected and craves for the attention given to her disabled sister. “My big sister is ten years old. Her name is Penelope Marie Piper, but everyone calls her Penny. Everyone except me. I, Patty Jean Piper, call her Princess Pooh. All day she just sits on her throne with wheels and tells everybody in the whole world what to do. When we go shopping at the mall, Princess Pooh rides on her throne while Dad wheels her around. She smiles and waves like she’s some kind of movie star. Mom carries the Princess’s crutches and I, Patty Jean the Servant, carry packages. Sometimes there are so many I look like a box with legs. Everyone loves the Princess. Grandma and Grandpop and all the aunts …hug her and say how sweet and wonderful she is. Then they look at me and say I am growing like a weed. That’s the way it has been for a million years. The Princess is a flower. I, plain old Patty Jean, am a weed.” The contrasts go on and on – how she has chores like cleaning the bathroom while Princess has therapy; how she can’t go to camp because there’s no money for that since the money will go to Princess’ leg braces. Things are sad and unresolved until one day….Patty sees the wheelchair empty, for Princess is asleep in the hammock. She decides to use the “golden throne” herself and be the princess for the day. Her trip starts inauspiciously, as she gets dumped on the sidewalk. Then she crosses the street, a menace to all the vehicles whizzing past. Some boys playing ball yell at her and make fun of her in the wheelchair. As she manages to reach the school playground, big raindrops begin to fall, and by the time she is at the baseball field, she is the mud princess, tugging at the contraption that has buried itself in the mud. Tired and dirty, she makes her way home, only to be met at the crossroads by her mom and dad. “I didn’t mean to mess up the throne. I’m sorry,” I say. “Throne?” says Mom. “Oh, the wheelchair. We thought you were lost!” “You weren’t looking for the chair?” I say. “Patty Jean, we were looking for you.” Mom hugs me some more…washes me in the bathtub and puts me to bed just like she does for Penny. …”Penny,” I whisper. “Are you awake?” Uh-huh.” “Do you like walking better than sitting?” “Well,” she says, “walking makes me awful tired, but so does pushing my wheelchair. …”How can you smile all the time when you’re in that yucky chair?” “It’s not yucky,” says Penny. “It takes me places I can’t go if I just have my crutches.” That makes me think some more. “I’m sorry I took your chair,” I say. “That’s all right. Just go to sleep now.”  But I’m wide awake. I lie there and wish very hard that my sister will always be able to do things that make her happy. I think that maybe Princess isn’t a good name for her, after all. Maybe it’s nicer that she’s just Penelope Marie and that I am her sister, Patty Jean Piper.

Ang Batang Maraming Bawal by Fernando Rosal Gonzalez, Canvas/UST Publishing House, at National Book Store

I’m Deaf And It’s Okay by Aseltine, Mueller, Tait, Albert Whitman and Co., at Book Wagon

Princess Pooh by Kathleen M. Muldoon, Albert Whitman and Co., at Book Wagon

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