"Duncan's Disney World" - article about GFSM in the Greeley Tribune
Train museum watches out for its newest volunteer
13-year-old autistic boy rarely misses a Saturday at the Greeley Freight Station Museum
By Dan England
dengland@greeleytribune.com
dengland@greeleytribune.com
Monday, October 10, 2011
Duncan Breeding examines a miniature locomotive Saturday at the Greeley Freight Station Museum on the corner of 6th Avenue and 10th Street. Duncan is allowed early entry on Saturday in exchange for the completion of a few planned chores. -NANTENA BELLER / For The Tribune
Duncan Breeding picks the train he will follow as soon as he is done with his job. No one can tell you how he selects one, but then again, no one, not even his parents, understands everything that goes through his head.
He follows it through the shipyards, over the mountains, past the hidden dinosaurs and in and out of the tunnels, unless Thomas the Tank Engine and all those delicious buttons that make buildings light up or whistles tweet in the kids' section distract him for a moment.
The world at the Greeley Freight Station Museum can captivate anyone, really, which explains the number of grown adults on a recent day, enough for an offense and a defense in a game of backyard football. But trains seem to attract autistic people like Duncan the most. People with autism have difficulty making sense of the world. They are drawn to predictable patterns, and perhaps nothing is as predictable as a train set, even a set with 2,000 cars, 150 locomotives and the kind of detail you'd expect at the Sistine Chapel.
Museum volunteers had heard about the train connection, too, especially after an article in The New York Times ran this summer, and so they couldn't help but notice Duncan, 13, who lives in Fort Collins with his parents, Tammy and John Breeding. He came every Saturday for two years, and after a while, his parents had to call when he wasn't coming in, as if he was missing a day of school.
“They're structured, repetitive and predictable,” said John Vonk, a lead volunteer who keeps an eye on Duncan during his stays at the museum. “I guess that's what we all want, right?”
The museum lets him in for free, as it does all children with special needs, and now they let him in early so he can complete a few chores. The chores are simple, something you would expect from a 6-year-old, which is his level of thinking, Tammy said. Vonk, for instance, will mess up some chairs so Duncan can put them in a row again.
“Of course, I had to mess them up three times,” Vonk said and laughed Saturday, “because every time I'd do it someone would come by and straighten them before he got here.”
The Breedings saw Duncan connect with trains when he was much younger, and so after they read about the museum opening, they brought him for a Saturday, and he loved it, they said. When asked how they could tell, since it's difficult for Duncan to express it, John, his father, paused.
“Do you mean besides his insistence that we go back as soon as we left?” he said.
They had to count the days down to when he could come back, from seven to six to five, just to calm him down.
Duncan is not the only one who enjoys it, of course. Tammy recently qualified for state funding for caretakers to bring him down on most Saturdays. Tammy had to quit her job to take care of him, and Duncan is as challenging as a toddler and a puppy put together. Breaks are rare and precious.
“I would say unrelenting is a good word,” Tammy said with a chuckle and a thin smile.
Duncan inspired museum volunteers to call schools with autistic children to offer free visits and field trips, Vonk said.
“If there's some link there,” Vonk said, “we want to be a part of it.”
Vonk calls the museum Duncan's Disney World, and that is true, Tammy said. But it's more than a place of amusement. Many things in his life are controlled. For the most part, people tell him where to go, what to do and how to do it (or how not to do it). It has to be that way because of his disability. He can't make those choices. Structure keeps him safe.
But Duncan loves the museum. It's one of the few things in life he's passionate about, and he chooses to go, even if it's more of a demand. That's a small but significant step forward.
“It gives him a chance to follow his heart,” Tammy said, “and express his own personality.”
As he follows his train through the museum's world of mountains and minutia, Duncan gets a rare opportunity to take control of his own.
He follows it through the shipyards, over the mountains, past the hidden dinosaurs and in and out of the tunnels, unless Thomas the Tank Engine and all those delicious buttons that make buildings light up or whistles tweet in the kids' section distract him for a moment.
The world at the Greeley Freight Station Museum can captivate anyone, really, which explains the number of grown adults on a recent day, enough for an offense and a defense in a game of backyard football. But trains seem to attract autistic people like Duncan the most. People with autism have difficulty making sense of the world. They are drawn to predictable patterns, and perhaps nothing is as predictable as a train set, even a set with 2,000 cars, 150 locomotives and the kind of detail you'd expect at the Sistine Chapel.
Museum volunteers had heard about the train connection, too, especially after an article in The New York Times ran this summer, and so they couldn't help but notice Duncan, 13, who lives in Fort Collins with his parents, Tammy and John Breeding. He came every Saturday for two years, and after a while, his parents had to call when he wasn't coming in, as if he was missing a day of school.
“They're structured, repetitive and predictable,” said John Vonk, a lead volunteer who keeps an eye on Duncan during his stays at the museum. “I guess that's what we all want, right?”
The museum lets him in for free, as it does all children with special needs, and now they let him in early so he can complete a few chores. The chores are simple, something you would expect from a 6-year-old, which is his level of thinking, Tammy said. Vonk, for instance, will mess up some chairs so Duncan can put them in a row again.
“Of course, I had to mess them up three times,” Vonk said and laughed Saturday, “because every time I'd do it someone would come by and straighten them before he got here.”
The Breedings saw Duncan connect with trains when he was much younger, and so after they read about the museum opening, they brought him for a Saturday, and he loved it, they said. When asked how they could tell, since it's difficult for Duncan to express it, John, his father, paused.
“Do you mean besides his insistence that we go back as soon as we left?” he said.
They had to count the days down to when he could come back, from seven to six to five, just to calm him down.
Duncan is not the only one who enjoys it, of course. Tammy recently qualified for state funding for caretakers to bring him down on most Saturdays. Tammy had to quit her job to take care of him, and Duncan is as challenging as a toddler and a puppy put together. Breaks are rare and precious.
“I would say unrelenting is a good word,” Tammy said with a chuckle and a thin smile.
Duncan inspired museum volunteers to call schools with autistic children to offer free visits and field trips, Vonk said.
“If there's some link there,” Vonk said, “we want to be a part of it.”
Vonk calls the museum Duncan's Disney World, and that is true, Tammy said. But it's more than a place of amusement. Many things in his life are controlled. For the most part, people tell him where to go, what to do and how to do it (or how not to do it). It has to be that way because of his disability. He can't make those choices. Structure keeps him safe.
But Duncan loves the museum. It's one of the few things in life he's passionate about, and he chooses to go, even if it's more of a demand. That's a small but significant step forward.
“It gives him a chance to follow his heart,” Tammy said, “and express his own personality.”
As he follows his train through the museum's world of mountains and minutia, Duncan gets a rare opportunity to take control of his own.
Duncan Breeding watches one of his trains of choice Saturday as the conductor maneuvers the miniature locomotive through the lush landscape of the Greeley Freight Station Museum.
NANTENA BELLER / For The Tribune
In an area not accessible to the public, Duncan Breeding is able to get a closer look at the No. 9 locomotive he selected to observe Saturday morning at the Greeley Freight Station Museum.
NANTENA BELLER / For The Tribune
Duncan Breeding volunteers at the Greeley Freight Station Museum as he does most Saturdays. His weekly duties include straightening rows of chairs and re-placing signs in the correct locations.
NANTENA BELLER / For The Tribune
Duncan Breeding follows his train for the day, the No. 9 locomotive, Saturday at the Greeley Freight Station Museum. The museum allows Duncan free entry, as they do all special needs children.
NANTENA BELLER / For The Tribune
Full story online: http://www.greeleytribune.com/article/20111010/NEWS/710109962&parentprofile=search
posted by Greeley Freight Station Museum @ 9:02 AM
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