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‘Soaring Like A Butterfly’by Sandee Brawarsky The 13 boys seated in a semicircle, most of whom have Down syndrome, pray together and put on tefillin, study English and religious subjects, use the computer lab and take breaks to play basketball in the school gym. They also learn how to identify street signs, use MetroCards and practice vocational skills. And they have penned many letters: notes of thanks to President George Bush, Bill Gates and Donald Trump for their contributions to America, and also to the bus driver who took them to Washington for a class trip in connection with their presidential studies. “I love these kids,” Rebbe Klein says. “They’re so bright. People don’t view them as bright. They have so much that they can give to society.” Rebbe Klein and his colleagues at Yeshiva Bonim Lamokom (Children of God) treat their students with great kindness, respect and patience. This school is a kind of love fest. Opened in September 2001, it’s the first full-day yeshiva program for boys with Down syndrome and developmental delays housed in a mainstream yeshiva. The independent yeshiva fills part of the fourth floor of Yeshiva Torah V’Daath in Brooklyn, and the students from both schools share a lunchroom and gym. When I arrive one afternoon with Moishy Sander, one of the Bonim Lamokom students, he is promptly surrounded in the lobby by Torah V’Daath students, who greet him with high-fives and hugs. He then leaves his black hat on a peg outside his classroom. Down syndrome is a genetic condition in which individuals are born with an additional chromosome. While some cases of a rarely occurring strain can be inherited, Down syndrome is not related to race, religion, ethnic group or nationality the way Tay-Sachs, for instance, is. It causes delays in physical and intellectual development. No statistics are available, but Down syndrome continues to have a significant presence in the ultra-Orthodox community. The reasons have to do with families having many children, their women giving birth late in life (the risk of giving birth to a child with Down syndrome is thought to increase as a woman gets older, although many young women also give birth to Down syndrome babies), and the fact that this community does not practice prenatal testing. In the general population, about 90 percent of pregnant women who are given a Down syndrome diagnosis choose to have an abortion. “If it’s meant for a couple to have a child with a disability, Down syndrome is the Gan Eden (Garden of Eden) of special needs,” says Sarah Sander, the mother of Moishy Sander and a founder, with her husband, of Yeshiva Bonim Lamokom. In an interview in a Williamsburg café, she explains that most children with the syndrome are in good health, with medical needs that can be met, and live happy lives. “If the child is happy and pain-free, then the parents are happy. When I look at Moishy, I see him soaring as a butterfly.” Sander was 26 when her son Yoel Moshe was diagnosed shortly after birth with Down syndrome. She explains that the shock was tremendous, the grief overwhelming. This was her second child, born after a healthy daughter. She recalls that she and her husband, members of the close-knit Satmar community in Williamsburg, soon realized that they could either let the birth “pull them down, or we could instead be lifted up, and build something” and they chose the latter path. “Slowly, we crawled out of the cocoon of grief. I was the only young woman in the community with a Down syndrome child. But I didn’t believe that I was the only one who had given birth” to one, she says, noting that mothers in the community were choosing to give up Down syndrome babies for adoption or to foster homes. She explains that some very large families find it impossible to handle a Down syndrome child, when they have already raised many kids under trying conditions. Many of those who do give their babies away try to stay involved. “I brought him out of the closet. During that first year, I became an advocate for my son,” she explains. She would speak to other mothers and to groups about her experience, and when her son, known by his family and throughout the community as Moishy, was about 5, she began publishing a magazine, “Down Syndrome Amongst Us: A Publication of Information, Chizuk [Inspirational Encouragement], and Shared Experience” — and has recently published her 13th issue. At first, Moishy’s parents sent him to a special bilingual Yiddish program within the public school system and provided him with private religious training, but they felt that something was missing. He’d go to shul with his father, and he’d be singing the tune from “Barney” rather than the prayers. “We had to do something for his neshama [soul]. We started a new crusade, knocking on all the yeshiva doors. We wanted to start a program for boys with Down syndrome, a yeshiva within a yeshiva.” After about two years, a match was made with Yeshiva Torah V’Daath. On Sept. 9, 2001, Yeshiva Bonim Lamokom opened its doors to seven students. Two days later, students watched the demolition of the Twin Towers from the roof of the building, and then rushed down to their classroom to pray — something they hadn’t been able to do in public schools. Today, the yeshiva has 27 students who spend half of the day studying English subjects, and the other half studying religion. Most are from the community, with one boy traveling from Queens. Another boy from Minnesota boards with a local family. “What nobody ever thought was possible has become a reality. They pray, learn Mishna, halacha, chumash, Yahadus [Judaism] — everything watered down in appropriate ways, covering the whole gamut,” Sander says. She explains that during the first year, she and her husband did everything — from arranging bus schedules to hiring teachers, and practically doing maintenance. Now, they continue to manage the finances of the school, and have a staff of educators and an administrator who work with them. Tuition costs more than $20,000 per student. The Board of Education provides transportation along with physical, occupational and speech therapists, who come to the school. Students range in age from 12 to 21, and they’re divided into two classes, based on age and learning level. Next year, the school hopes to start a class for younger kids, and is also exploring the possibility of a day-habilitation program for those over 21. Dr. Martin Schloss, director of the division of day school education at the Board of Jewish Education, who has just completed a doctorate on “Traditional Jewish Insights into Mental Retardation and Their Educational Implications,” says, “My data show that a good number of our students, including the population with Down syndrome, are in fact capable and obligated in fulfilling the commandments. Therefore I’m very happy to see opportunities for children with Down syndrome to get the necessary background to be active and participating members of the Jewish community. It’s not just nice — it’s a travesty that more such projects don’t exist in light of our religious obligations to afford them their rightful positions. “In more conventional programs,” he continues, “we try to maximize inclusion. I don’t think that should be mandated. It serves the children best to focus on their needs. I do hope that there are opportunities for inclusion, which leads to a more normative life in the general Jewish community,” he says. “There are specific kinds of skills they’ll need to fit into their community, [including] a very intense knowledge of Jewish practice. The community demands it. So you really need that kind of program. “I am very impressed with the concept of the program, how it came to be and the determination of the parents,” he continues, also applauding the role of Torah V’Daath as host. A similar initiative for girls with Down syndrome is also under way in Brooklyn. Sander, a mother of six who is a consultant for Jewish and governmental organizations and who speaks about special needs to parent groups and support groups, acknowledges that now that her son is getting older, she and her husband face difficult decisions about his future, like whether a group home might be a good choice for him. She says that Moishy and his classmates like to talk about marriage. They see their sisters and brothers marrying and moving out, and want the same things. Sander, who says she already has a list of people who’ve suggested possible matches for Moishy, says he has many qualities that would make him a wonderful spouse, but that he would need to have a supervised marriage. “When I asked him why he wanted to get married, he said, ‘Because I want to love her.’” About Moishy’s impact on her faith, she says, “It’s very humbling. I feel it has made us better people. Closer to Hashem. We see our other children in a different light. The word ‘achievement’ takes on new meaning. This experience has even strengthened our marriage, giving us common, loving ground to stand on. “The secular world considers Down syndrome an accident. We know that there are no accidents,” she says. Her magazine, Down Syndrome Amongst Us, is an intimate forum, with letters from around the world, practical advice, medical information. It has pieces by siblings, parents and grandparents, and jokes and inspirational anecdotes about “Up Syndrome.” Many contributors speak of the gifts these children have and bring to others. “Some of the students know they have Down syndrome. They realize that they’re different,” says Tali Abramzon, the yeshiva’s program director. “They’re very happy that they can tell people they go to a yeshiva.” |
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