Office of Administration
Governor's Council on Disability
Missouri Poster & Journalism Contest

Second Place – High School Division

Peter Goldschmidt
Helias High School
Jefferson City, Missouri

A Special Kind of Learning

Last summer I volunteered at a program forty miles from home that teaches the mentally and physically disabled to ride horses. When I pulled into the drive for my first session, I felt surprisingly apprehensive. However, I was distracted by a strong stench, followed by a squishing sound. I'd buried my Nike in horse manure. Before I could formulate an escape plan, the jubilant coordinator, who was surely akin to the Jolly Green Giant, smothered me in a hug. She then directed me to a place along the fence to await the riders.

Each rider chose a volunteer. The girl with Down syndrome picked a Mrs. Claus of a lady. The man in a wheelchair leisurely looked us over. I scuffed my manure-covered shoe in the dust. He picked the burly cowboy behind me. Should I be this self-conscious? What if no one picked me? I had not been this anxious since grade-school kickball. I ruffled my hair, going for nonchalance. Then in pranced Joyce. I gave her my best picture smile causing her to grin. Whew, I had a rider.

Joyce was middle-aged, autistic, and loved horses. She advertised her favorite color, magenta, with her vibrant attire. As the lesson progressed, I relaxed. Her vivacious chatter and relentless enthusiasm distracted me from my apprehension. By day's end, I was looking forward to the next session.

Each lesion began with tales of Joyce's weekly adventures. As I lead her horse about, her greatest joy was filling me in on the triumphs and disappointments of last year's Special Olympics. Toward the end of the final lesion, Joyce expressed her admiration for my vastly improved leading technique. She patted me on the head and whispered, "Good job, Handsome Peter. Good job, Handsome Peter." We hugged, and my eyes began to water; I realized I would never forget this experience.

Ultimately, we both gained from each other. She learned to ride, and I altered my preconceived notion about those with special needs. Before I met Joyce, I was convinced "someone like that" could never understand me, let alone be my friend. How wrong I was. I felt more comfortable around Joyce than I did with even my friends from school. I trusted her and she trusted me. If her horse became rebellious, Joyce's safety lay entirely in my hands. I learned that trust makes a powerful bond between two people, regardless of their differences.

I spent my summer leading a horse around an arena, and Joyce spent her summer leading me into a new chapter of life. She enhanced my desire to serve. Volunteering with the mentally disabled has become a part of me, and it was not long until I wanted to become more involved.

I assisted with the Special Olympics and currently help out at our local Special Learning Center. My work there made me realize that so much more could be done for the young ones. I thought back to my experience with Joyce and how much she loved horses. I began inviting families with special needs children out to my farm because I wanted to introduce the kids to friends I knew they would love—my horses. The horses patiently stood while the children became engrossed in brushing them and braiding their manes. AS I stepped back to let the mothers snap shots of unforgettable memories, I knew I could make a difference. One family turned into two, which multiplied into four. It was not long until the contagious feeling of good will spread to my mom and dad who agreed to take the children on carriage rides.

I had come across something that was important to those children. Although many families had come out to the farm, I knew I could be doing more. I wanted to being the horses to the Special Learning Center, but unfortunately my family didn't have a horse trailer. So I got to work calling local stables until I found a rig I could borrow. I called the Special Learning Center to relay the good news. Within a week I had accomplished my goal. I was able to take all the children for a ride on my gallant geldings, "Bill" and "Joe." I could not help but smile when a little boy named Anthony clinging to the saddle, refused to get off the horse because he was simply having too much fun. Although some of the children were physically unable to ride the horses, everyone petted them, including the elated staff.

Now I see what I am capable of. The Special Learning Center has asked to come to my farm in the late spring for a field trip, and I have already contacted other special needs organizations. With the help of my family and the cooperative community, I did something new; I did something unforgettable.

My mission is far different from past activities. On the speech team, I obtained presidency and state qualifications. On the tennis and cross-country teams, I was awarded a varsity letter. In theatrical productions, I won the lead. But now I am not after the acknowledgement. The gratification of doing something that brings others joy is enough for me. None of my friends, not even Joyce, are aware of what I have done for those with special needs. Knowing I can make a child smile is the only recognition I seek. I am so glad I took the initiative to volunteer at Cedar Creek because it was my relationship with Joyce that helped me grow and alter my thinking. She inspired new ideas within me, ultimately changing the way I live. Thank you, Joyce.