The story of a remarkable boy
and the school where he thrives
By Lauren Tarshis, Editor Storyworks Magazine
Reprinted by permission from author
I’m standing on the blacktop at New Richmond Elementary School, and right away I notice something unusual.
The kids at this Ohio school are playing soccer with a basketball—but that’s not the unusual part. What catches my eye is that none of the kids is aiming to score a goal. They’re all just trying to kick the ball to one player: 10-year-old Isaac Friedman. That’s the game. Get the ball to Isaac so he can kick it. Kicking the ball makes Isaac very happy—and the kids at New Richmond love to see Isaac happy.
Isaac has Down syndrome (DS), a condition that affects just about every part of Isaac’s body— and his life. DS is not an illness, and nobody can “catch” DS from someone who has it. People with DS are born with it, like people are born with blond hair or brown eyes. Because he has DS, Isaac learns slowly. Like many people with DS, he also has issues with his muscles and his digestion.
A Different Time
Only a few decades ago, life for kids like Isaac was often bleak. Many died very young because of their health problems. Schools often didn’t accept children with DS because even “experts” believed such kids couldn't learn. Worst of all was the ignorance and prejudice surrounding people with disabilities.
My own cousin Bobby has DS. He was born in 1950. The day of Bobby’s birth, the doctor told my aunt Jessie that she should send Bobby away. “Forget about him,” the doctor told her. This advice was common in those days.
Millions of kids with DS and other physical and mental disabilities were institutionalized: They lived away from their families in enormous hospitals, where many were treated with neglect or even cruelty. My aunt, however, refused to send Bobby away. She and my uncle Sidney cared for him at home. Bobby grew up happy and loved, and today, at the age of 63, he lives in a cozy house he shares with four other men with DS and a counselor who helps them manage the household.
Beginning in the 1970s, attitudes about DS began to change. It turned out that those “experts” were wrong. Many kids with DS can learn numerous things if they are given the right kind of education.
Isaac’s parents and his grandmother G.J. (short for Grandma Judy) have been on a mission since the day Isaac was born. They are dedicating their lives to ensuring that Isaac learns as much as he can, and that he gets the love and support he needs to succeed.
“You Need to Come Here”
Helping them in their mission are the teachers and kids of New Richmond Elementary (NRE), who work together to create a world where Isaac can thrive. I saw this for myself when I visited the school in January. I was invited by Isaac’s grandmother G.J., also known as NRE fifth-grade teacher Judy Schaechter. She wrote to me at to tell me that something important was happening at her school. “You need to come here,” she urged.
And so I flew to Ohio and spent the day in Isaac’s world. I saw up close what it takes for Isaac to learn new skills. And I witnessed how this little guy with round glasses and an Elmo T-shirt can cast a spell on an entire school.
Focus and determination
Learning takes time for Isaac. In kindergarten, it took him almost the entire year to learn how to hold a pencil correctly. He needs enormous help and encouragement from his teachers. His full-time aide, Mrs. Autzen, has been with him since kindergarten, and she rarely leaves his side. Isaac spends part of his day in Mrs. Ellis’s special-education classroom, and the rest with Mrs. Kamen and her third-graders. Wherever he is, his teachers and Mrs. Autzen provide him with almost minute-to-minute works with extreme focus and determination.
I saw this when Isaac read a book about police officers to me. The word was a tough word for him to pronounce. Each time he came to it, he would say it over and over until he got it right. His hard work pays off: Isaac reads at a higher level than many third-graders. He loves writing in his journal, where he recounts his days’ adventures in big looping letters.
Isaac's Magic
But what struck me most about Isaac was the feeling I got when I was with him. Though words come slowly to him, he finds ways to connect. When he was reading his police book, he would often stop and look up at me. His expression was always warm, accepting, and . In the hallways, he held out his hand for me to hold.
Being with him gave me a calm and peaceful feeling. “He’s always had this effect on people,” his mom says.
“Even when he was a baby,” adds his dad.
“It’s a mystery,” G.J. remarks, “but somehow he makes people feel peaceful and loved.”
As Isaac moves through his day, kids swarm around him. They high-five him in the halls, hug him, hold his hand on the playground. Kids don’t just look out for Isaac, they seek him out. And this, I realized, is what makes NRE so remarkable. Hundreds of kids and teachers work together to help one boy thrive. And then, without even trying, that thriving boy can turn around and share some of his magic with them.
