"When I began working as a therapist/instructor at the Ride On Therapeutic Riding Center in Houston, TX, most of my students had either physical or learning disabilities. In 1989, I also began to work as a developmental motor teacher and "floated" at the Westview School, a private school for children with special needs, ages 2-6 years old. Although Ride On, at the time, had predominantly older children and adults, I decided to include the Westview students in the program. In January 1990, a little girl, two years and 10 months old, was assigned to me with the diagnosis of "low tone." Her doctor came to this conclusion because she was very inactive and had just recently begun to walk with the help of intensive physical therapy. I tried to do a motor assessment of Heather and found some very conflicting results. She was extremely strong when she wanted to avoid or resist an activity, and she became hysterical when I made her change positions (stand to sit, prone to supine, and back again). Moving from place to place also seemed painful according to her reactions. A simple game of "Ring around the Rosy" appeared to be pure torture. Was mobility really painful? If left on her own, Heather could move about without any evidence of pain. All other areas of school were just as confused about Heather. She spent most her day crying and being extremely upset. Heather's mother received a referral to Dr. Stephen Gutstein, a child psychologist, for evaluation and possible treatment. He was doing some exciting work with children with autism, which, at this point, seemed to be a possible diagnosis for Heather. Dr. Gutstein felt that Heather was autistic and began to work with her at his office and at the school. I saw him work and was totally fascinated with his approach, which he called "intrusion" therapy. Dr. Gutstein felt that these children were happiest and most comfortable in their own small, confined, predictable worlds. This explained her reaction to any change, including crawling, walking and changing her position. It seemed that once the intrusion was made, Heather could build on that experience and expand her world. The underlying scientific basis of this disorder could be from any or all areas of sensory defensiveness and neurochemical deficiencies, but at this point all I was interested in was process of remediation. The "why" belongs to the researcher; the "how" must be the focus of clinicians, primarily because of the severity of the presenting problem and the need to correct it and alleviate all the physical or emotional pain. The clinician uses the researchers' findings as a basis for the treatment, but must also bring his art of tuning-in to each individual and developing a treatment plan. This plan must be flexible and innovative as well as specific for the particular child's complex array of problems. I decided to include Heather in Ride On's schedule. I prepared the volunteers to expect a screaming, crying child and told them we were not hurting her in any way. In simple terms, we were not breaking her down and harming her emotionally. Instead, we were breaking into her world and welcoming her into ours. I hoped the horse would help her accept us. I also hoped she would feel that the horse made all this "pain" bearable and worthwhile. As expected, the first time she came out she was very upset being in a different place. The only thing that seemed to calm her was Ride On's therapy horse, "Allison." It took three people to get the helmet and belt on. Putting her on the horse was also an ordeal. However, once she sat down
and started moving she became quiet. Everything was fine until we stopped the horse and began to teach her that a kissing sound would make her go. "Kiss" was used because at the time Heather was non-verbal. Once learned, Heather was less upset about stopping because she could make the horse go. This was the first step of teaching her that communication was power. Occasionally she could not make the sound. She became extremely agitated and out of her mouth came, "giddy up, get going!" We learned that speech was there, only hidden or blocked. We were thrilled and soon heard from her speech therapist that she was saying more words, especially "horse" and "Allison." Every week things improved. We were able to build on the previous experiences. For example, during the second week Heather's helmet went on with no resistance. By the third session, Heather would go and get her own helmet and belt. The results of imposing appropriate experiential "trauma" were consistently positive. The first time we went outside the arena for a trail ride she became hysterical. The next time we left the arena, she was smiling and happy. Games that were upsetting became fun. We had finally introduced some joy into her life. "Allison" was her focal point, her motivator, her reason for accepting this "other" scary world. Heather rode for four years, including her first year in public school. At that time I saw that she had developed the ability to gain self-control when she began to get agitated. Heather is now a very active, verbal third grader. Since introducing Heather to therapeutic riding, Ride On has served many more riders with autism. They have all shown the same signs: crying, screaming, having physical tantrums, and exhibiting various avoidance behaviors such as flopping and becoming limp. All have responded to the "intrusion" in much the same way, i.e., acceptance of their new experience, and most of all, joy. Ride On has since expanded its therapy to include interaction and more emphasis on appropriate communication. Through interactional therapy, more emphasis is being placed on social adaptation for the autistic child and adult. Studies have shown that a high functioning, verbal autistic person cannot become totally independent or successfully use his strengths without the ability to adapt to society's definition of acceptable behavior. Ride On has introduced interaction, the basis of socialization, through the technique of riding double, face to face, on a bareback pad. This method in conjunction with the elements of changing horses, partners and directions has brought about some fascinating behaviors. Initially there is gaze and touch avoidance with varying degrees of both verbal and physical resistance. All these behaviors have improved over time, and on several occasions, have led to fun and games and joy. Society expects a person to relate to another's presence and to interact appropriately. These children began to see that they had to adapt if they wanted to continue riding. An employer or client will expect no less of them. Positive feedback from parents, teachers and therapists indicates the validity of therapeutic riding as a treatment for autistic children. One mother said that her son's problems with disruptive and non-compliant behaviors were finally overcome through his program at Ride On and had "carried over into other areas of his life in school and home." Another mother stated, "I gave you a screaming, kicking, biting animal and you gave me back a little girl." Dr. Gutstein wrote, "I have personally witnessed the wonderful results that are obtained when these children, many of whom have little sense of their own bodies in space, or little contact with the outside world, come in contact with the Ride On experience. The children develop special relationships with the horses that quickly generalize to increased contact and involvement with teachers, trainers and family members. The sense of confidence and competence they gain from their horsemanship is unparalleled by any other experience." Hana May Brown is the director and instructor of Ride On, which she founded in 1983 in Houston,
TX. She also teaches children with disabilities at the Westview School in Houston. Hana is a NARHA Registered Instructor, and presented "Therapeutic Riding as a Treatment for Autistic Children" at the 1994 NARHA Annual Conference.