Club includes the excluded
At a monthly game night, kids with autism find fun and acceptance, and
parents find support
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
MELINDA THOMPSON
Shouts and laughter punctuate the reverential air of Beautiful Savior
Lutheran Church.
"I have an I-22!" an excited youngster shouts.
"I have it, too!" yells another.
As the bingo game gets into full swing, another mover and shaker hits the
floor for a round of "Dance Dance Revolution," a video game in which players
"dance" to music by stepping on large buttons that correspond to arrows on a
screen.
No, it's not Sunday School gone wild. It's a rainy Friday evening in
Vancouver, and the game is on.
Thanks to a few dedicated moms and volunteers, Game Club -- a monthly
gathering for families dealing with Asperger's syndrome, or high-functioning
autism -- is fostering inclusion and understanding for families who, in many
cases, have known precious little of either.
Imagine a virtually friendless world. You're ostracized. Bullied. Incapable
of socializing. A world where, on a good day, you're described as
"different," but on a bad one, you're "freaky" or "weird." Children with
Asperger's, otherwise known as autism spectrum disorder, don't have to
imagine. This is their world. And often it becomes their parents' as well.
Kori Gaddis was devastated when her son, Cole, confessed his true feelings
after a few months of kindergarten. Cole, then 5, told her: "Mommy, I feel
different and all alone." Gaddis had Cole tested, and he was diagnosed with
Asperger's.
"It broke my heart," Gaddis says of her son's revelation. "This was not just
about him; it affected our whole family. It becomes even more difficult when
other families don't understand our challenges."
Autism is a developmental disability caused by a neurological disorder that
affects normal brain function, affecting social interaction and
communication skills. Autism afflicts roughly 1.5 million Americans, and,
according to the Autism Society of America, is the nation's fastest-growing
disability. Asperger's syndrome, which affects more boys than girls, falls
within the autism spectrum and is marked by a reluctance to accept change,
inflexibility of thought and all-absorbing, narrow areas of interest.
After Cole's diagnosis, Gaddis researched Asperger's thoroughly and, through
the Portland Asperger's Network, she learned about the West Linn Game Club.
The club is the brainchild of Michelle Kuepker, whose son Dalton has
Asperger's. Kuepker formed the club in 1999 after endless attempts to get
Dalton, then 8, involved in team sports.
"When I finally admitted to myself that I was trying to put my square-peg
son into a round hole, I began to ease up," Kuepker says. She decided to let
her son decide what he really liked to do -- he chose video games -- and the
Game Club was born.
"I knew the only way he was going to ever be part of a group was to be
involved in something he enjoyed," Kuepker says. "Putting 'like' kids with
common interests would create uncommon friends. It worked. This was a
perfect social opportunity, a safe place where he could interact, be himself
and not be ridiculed."
The same proved true for Cole, now 8. "It turned out to be a great
opportunity for Cole to be around other kids who were like him," Gaddis says
of Game Club. "He loved having an evening where he could do whatever
interested him without any threat of bullying or teasing."
And the meetings helped Gaddis, too. "I loved the experience of being able
to network with other parents who knew what it was like to have a child like
mine and who could relate to me as a mom who loved her child."
Game Club became a monthly highlight for mother and son; sometimes, Gaddis'
husband, Jon, and their daughter, McKenna, would accompany them. However,
the commute from Vancouver to West Linn convinced Gaddis that Clark County
needed its own club. And she decided to make it happen.
Kuepker, who says she hopes to see Game Clubs spring up throughout the
country, gave her approval, and Gaddis began her crusade. First, she set
about finding a home for the club. Beautiful Savior stepped up, offering
church space free of charge.
Next step: donations. "I talked to everyone I knew -- handed out fliers to
the special education departments within the Evergreen School District,
solicited local businesses and spread the word about our Game Club," Gaddis
says. Friends, family members and Gaddis' fellow parents at Mill Plain
Elementary School -- where Cole is a student and participates in a program
for autistic children -- donated money and games.
Gaddis then hooked up with Jo Ann Richardson of Ridgefield, Wash.
Richardson, who works in School District 112 in Clark County, is also mother
to an 18-year-old autistic son. She used her contacts to recruit volunteers
through City University's Teacher Opportunity Pathways Program. The students
earn volunteer credits in the special education certification program while
helping at Game Club.
"Having them help run the bingo game is a huge bonus for us," says Tammy
Bedlion, a Game Club volunteer and the parent of an 8-year-old son with
autism. Bedlion provides resources and reading materials to the club through
the ARC of Clark County, where she works as a coordinator.
Bedlion says her son, Blake, waits impatiently for the monthly Game Club
meetings, constantly asking, "Is it Game Club yet?" Bedlion says her family
feels comfortable at club meetings, describing a "coming home" sort of
feeling, where old friends meet and newcomers are welcome.
Vancouver Game Club asks for a small donation, $4 a family, to cover the
cost of beverages and prizes. In addition to video and board games, the club
offers a craft room for quiet time. Parents often bring snacks and
occasionally host holiday gatherings and family socials.
Kristi Effinger, who attended her first Game Club in September, says she
liked the relaxed atmosphere, enjoyed talking to other parents and
appreciated the understanding of certain behaviors.
And, best of all, her 8-year-old son, Thomas, "loved it. He cannot wait to
go back next month."
Melinda Thompson: mommission@comcast.net
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