Professor: Autism a problem for Tanzania

The luncheon was small and intimate, with just eight attendees sitting around two tables as they snacked on tea, coffee and cookies.

The collection of professors and faculty members met Wednesday in the basement of Bluemont Hall to discuss the issues of autism in Tanzania.

Marilyn Kaff, associate professor of special education counseling and student affairs, served as the speaker for the event.

Kaff's information came in the form of firsthand observations and personal stories. This was possible for Kaff because she traveled to Tanzania last summer to investigate problems teaching styles and school-day structure in schools for autistic children, and to instigate change in the way Tanzanian educators treat the disorder.

Is there an echo in here?

Kaff used spontaneous role-plays with the attendees during her presentation to help them experience what it is like to interact with an autistic individual.

Turning to David Griffin, assistant dean of the College of Education, Kaff asked, "Dr. Griffin, how's your day going?"

Griffin replied, "Extremely well."

Kaff's next response was unusual for a normal conversation, but indicative of autism: "Extremely well, extremely well, extremely well," she replied.

Kaff paused, waiting for Griffin's reaction. The room sat silent, waiting to find out what the three repetitions of Griffin's response meant.

After a second or two, she explained that many autistic children display echolalia, which is "the uncontrollable and immediate repetition of words spoken by another person," according to dictionary.com.

"Many times, the researchers think it is something to do with — they know they need to try to maintain conversation, but they don't really know, without some direct instruction, how to go about doing it," she said.

Lack of eye contact is another tell-tale sign of an autistic child.

Kaff said she had one student who greeted her with overboard physical contact — an arm around her shoulder and his face less than six inches from hers — but almost never looked her in the eye, and even then, it was fleeting.

She said this is because the intimacy of eye contact makes these children uncomfortable, so it is easier for them to look at an inanimate object, or even just the ceiling or the wall.

A LACK OF UNDERSTANDING

Kaff illustrated the disparity between the understanding of autism in the United States versus in Tanzania by showing attendees the U.S. definition of autism, according to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, versus the Tanzanian definition, according to the Tanzanian government's ministry of special needs.

The manual's definition was thorough and specific, referencing qualitative impairments in social interaction and communication, as well as developmental delays and patterns of behavior.

The Tanzanian definition, on the other hand, included only three specific symptoms, one of which might not even be accurate.

The definition of autism by the Tanzanian ministry of special needs, as displayed on Kaff's PowerPoint, reads as follows:

"These are learners with mental or intellectual impairment, which lead them to behaving unique; some of the characteristics of an autistic child are: hyperactivity, shyness and a tendency to like sweet-smelling things."

Kaff said this disparity of definitions is just one example of Tanzania's need for education about autism, starting with the foundational necessity of a clear diagnosis.

SCHOOL, MINUS ACADEMICS

This foundational lack of understanding of what autism actually is carries over into everything the Tanzanian government does toward people with autism, including the way they are educated.

Kaff said she commends the government on understanding that students with autism need special education in separate schools, but said what actually happens in these schools leaves much to be desired.

"In the morning, they would do an hour or two of singing, and then the children would go out to play at recess," she said. "Then, they would come back for limited instruction and do another set of songs or some games. Then, they would go have their chai, which is tea and biscuits, mid-morning. And then, they would go home. That was the program."

Debbie Mercer, associate dean of the College of Education, reacted with surprise upon hearing this description of a typical school day.

"I think it's a real tragedy that there are children in the country that aren't receiving any services at all, and are essentially in their home with perhaps wonderful parental support but without the knowledge base that we have in America," Mercer said.

OUTSIDE THOSE FOUR WALLS

While school assistance was what Kaff and her team traveled to Tanzania to do, she said she couldn't help but share a bit of what life in Tanzania was like. After all, not all 24 hours of their days existed within the confines of a classroom.

Kaff said she and her team stayed in a house on an island at the edge of the country.

"We would come across every morning on a ferry boat that would carry about 2,000 people," she said. "So, that was our morning rush hour."

After school on some days, Kaff said they went into the city and wandered through the streets to buy groceries and see what there was to see. She and her team stood out as foreigners in the midst of the sea of Tanzanians.

She said some people they encountered were surprised the K-State researchers would want to come to their African country.

"Why would you want anything to do with us?" the locals said to the K-State team. "You're white people."

Kaff ignored the locals' expectation of racism and gave them a matter-of-fact response.