A Lesson in Expectations
Contributed by Stacy Springer
In Ecuador as my 4th trip with the CITTI Project you would think, or rather expect that I would know by now not to have expectations. Or rather I should probably even let go of that, and just expect that I will expect, and be so pleasantly reminded that I shouldn’t.
For the Visual Guide, we first planned on combining communication and education into one edition. Several conference calls and meetings later we decided that would be too much, that we should separate the two due to the complexity of both topics.
After arriving in Cuenca and planning and strategizing as a team for several days, we came back to agreeing to combine the two topics, communication and education into one guide. However, the way in which we would accomplish that would be in a very different and new way. What we might call, an emergent and evolving design.
In preparing for Paute, we decided and I specifically reinforced that we would not create hand splints since we were focusing on the areas of communication and education as well as the time constraints we were under. The first day in Paute, Sonia came up to me and said, ‘there’s this mother who wants something for her son’s hand and wrist.’ Again, I said no, that we weren’t making splints, but to refer them to our first edition of the Visual Guide that showed step-by-step how to make one. Minutes later, I saw the mother with her son, Elvis, slung on her back with cloth and she just stared at me without saying a word pleaded for help for her son. Moments later, Sonia, Russ, Maggie, and I were fabricating a splint. After several versions, I asked Sonia to ask the mother if she was happy with it, if it was what she had expected. The initial translation was “no”, and I immediately jumped in thought ‘oh gosh, this isn’t what she wanted, we misunderstood her…’. She continued and said, ‘I never imagined you could make (my son) a splint with these materials. It’s much more than I imagined.’
The second day in Paute, when the teachers and therapists were joined by the parents and children, we started the day by having tables covered with the various adaptations. However, Bridgett asked the teachers and therapists to demonstrate the adaptations to the parents, as opposed to us. We thought and expected that they would be tentative and unsure, not knowing how that would go. Before Bridgett’s request could be fully translated, the teachers and therapists had jumped up out of their seats and rushed to the tables to begin enthusiastically explaining and demonstrating to the parents and community members not only the adaptations that they had brought, but ours as well. The shift had occurred in empowerment and we all stood back, welled up with tears and emotion shocked by what was taking place.
Traveling to our second location, in Ibarra, we broke up into groups for discussion and found that these were not teachers and therapists by majority, but rather home health workers, case managers, and early interventionists. This was not what we had expected, not in target audience or in the age of children they served (0-5 years versus primary grades). All of us in one way or another, after the first day were slightly concerned and lots of questions: are our materials appropriate; is our demonstration relevant; will they want to make adaptations the next day; do they understand our mission as opposed to thinking we are providing a clinic?
Our expectations of what the next day would bring were that we could be missing the mark, but that we would make the best of it. We discussed with each other that we wouldn’t probably use as much of the materials as expected, that we weren’t sure if they would make or want to create communication, education, and access adaptations. And once again, we were taught a valuable lesson in expectations. 
The home health workers, case managers came and they came with their examples, they demonstrated to the parents and they took ownership not only of their materials but of the ours as well. We used up all materials, and all 90 participants were engaged and yearning for more.
David, a young boy with quadriplegia, came with his mother and eagerly trialed the head wand fabricated with a hat. During the demonstration, we learned that he was used to a mouth stick and was very functional and successful with it for writing, drawing, and painting, however he tired easily. David was immediately successful with the head wand, using it to turn pages of an adapted book and once attached with a marker he wrote his name and drew a picture on a slant board.
During the making portion of our workshop, I helped David’s family fabricate a head wand for him. His mother explained that the one in the demonstration was too long, and he needed a shorter one. David chose which hat he wanted and his mother and father assisted with attaching a paintbrush with duct tape to the hat. Once finished, we got the slant board that his brother made along with one of the books adapted with page fluffers so David could try out the head wand. I was excitedly anticipating his use of the head wand to turn the pages of the book independently. With everyone standing by, David turned the page of the book, but was more interested in using the head wand to track the words on the page for reading. He was more interested about reading the book and using the head wand to track each word and sentence than he was to turn the pages. As we all stood by listening to David beautifully read the entire book aloud, turning the pages and all, our expectations were again turned upside down. 
As I reflect on my expectations of the people, the workshops, the project and our time in Ecuador, I reflect on the multitude of lessons in expectations. Being students of another culture, supporting communities and people with disabilities, it’s a humbling experience to try to put your expectations aside, realizing that what will be is so much greater than our minds can ever foresee.
