"Many years ago, I taught a teenage autistic boy to ride. He was able to ride our most steady school horses and could post, sit and two point at the trot. I decided to enter him in a walk/trot class at our barn schooling show so he could enjoy the experience of showing and winning a ribbon.

When it was time for his class, I got him on one of our taller school horses and placed him at the end of the line. When the class started, he realized that he could look up a bit and see everyone in the observation room so every time he rode past, he would slap his riding crop on the windows and yell. The looks on the other kid’s faces in the class were hilarious. They were trying to be really serious while dying to turn around to see what all of the commotion was about at the back of the line.

At the end of the class when he got his ribbon, he was so happy. He proceeded to remove his helmet and toss it to the ground, jumped off the back of the horse and leap-frogged across the ring. While it was hard for him to focus with all of the excitement going on, I feel he really gained from the experience."

Blue

Written by Brigette Brandhagen

"For a few years our horses were used by Special Olympics (which I never saw) and we took them to school for the specials needs kids to look at, touch, groom, lead around, or whatever they felt comfortable with. One particular boy was very passive and mostly non-verbal. He had one side that was affected with CP and he could only walk slowly with a limp. When it was his turn to come up to the horses, he chose my palomino, Blue. He chose to just lead Blue in a small circle. The other kids wore out, but that boy spent 2 or 3 hours leading him in a circle.

For the next year, the boy would yell "horsie" to me every time he saw me. He drew pictures of Blue, and would just get wiggly whenever it was talked about.

When we went back the next year, he again took Blue in circles, but finally pointed to the big field and asked if he could take Blue there. Off they went. Blue didn't even try to stop and eat grass (which he would have done with me, I'm sure). When they got to the corner of the school building, the sprinklers all came on, spraying them from all sides. They whipped around the corner, out of our sight. We RAN, figuring Blue had taken off for the back 40, dragging the boy for as long as he could hang on. But, no. They were cuddled up together in the recess to a doorway, happy as could be."

Experiences with the Texas Special Olympics Horse Shows

Written by Jamie V

"Of the majority of the horse shows I have been to, there was always a high likelihood that I would see some form of one of those same tired scenarios - a young person who failed to place higher in a class in tears or angrily throwing a ribbon into a ringside garbage can, or an adult whose horse failed to provide the talent necessary for the win (because, naturally, it is the horse's fault) punishing their horse on the way out of the arena or in the warm up arena. From local open shows to 4-H to breed shows, I've seen those scenes play out with predictability. The only show where I haven't seen that behavior was my home Area Special Olympics horse show.

I was lucky enough to become involved in the Special Olympics Texas (SOTX) horse show when I was still in high school. A 4-H alumni and family friend works for the Richmond State School, where the Area 10 show is held annually. The judge had unexpectedly needed to cancel. My mother bravely answered the call - unaware of what she was getting into - and wrangled me to play ring steward.

The look on my mother's face was when she was handed score sheets for dressage was priceless. My mother, who had shown everything from calf roping to western pleasure in AQHA and had trained donkeys and mules for years, was dumbstruck. Her face read much like a celebrity on Punk'd, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to leap from behind a stall front, or for us to scream "You're on Candid Camera!" Luckily for Mom, there was only one horse and rider pair in each dressage class, so majority of her duty was to write comments on the rider's position and overall test. That method continued throughout the day even in classes with multiple riders and Mom followed the request of the coaches, writing honest (but fair) critiques for each of the riders during the day. As her ring steward, I was able to watch the classes without judging and a few riders in particular stood out to me.

David was a young man riding in the Walk Only - Assisted class, meaning that he only rode at a walk and his coach lead the gentle older gelding carrying David throughout the classes. David, unlike some of the other riders in the class, could not sit still. He constantly was standing in the stirrups, moving to sit behind the cantle, and attempting to turn around to ride backwards. Throughout the day, David grew less interested and more active in (and behind) the saddle. Even so, his parents, coaches, and the riders from other organizations still cheered for David (and all of the other riders as well) when the placing for each class was announced. Certainly something that is a rarity at best at any other show.

Unlike other shows, where it's not uncommon to see a rider crying over a class or because she didn't want to do something but her mother was forcing her anyway, the only tears that day were in the eyes of the volunteers as riders celebrated not only their own victories but also those of their friends, many of whom they only see a couple times a year, and when an older mentally handicapped man sang his own version of the National Anthem. In the stands, parents, friends, and residents of the Richmond State School raised their hands in silent applause for each of the competitors.

After my first SOTX show, I knew that this was something I wanted to continue to be involved with. Mom judged the next year's show as well. Unfortunately, I had moved almost 600 miles away to attend college on a horse judging scholarship, and was unable to make it home for that year's show. Even then, my mother called me to tell me how some of the riders that I had met the previous year had done and how much everyone had improved. With a teary voice, she passed on hellos from my new friends, some of whom I had seen over the previous summer at my own shows.

I was determined to make it back for the next year's show, if only to watch and help out where needed. Instead, I received a phone call from my mother. She told me she didn't feel comfortable judging the show three years in a row (despite being asked back) and she said she would judge the walk-up trail classes if I judged the rest of the show. Of course I couldn't turn it down. I cleared my schedule and flew home late Friday afternoon to be home in for the show.

With my younger brother as my ring steward, I judged the show to the best of my abilities, making critiques for the coaches and riders, and cheering my friends on. Some of them were riding new horses, some were riding their old standbys, some had developed new habits, and some had improved dramatically. The show had turned into a family event, Dad helped cook lunch, my younger sister served as a "go-fer" to anyone who needed her, and my younger brother had taken on my ring steward job while I was away. Mom had even encouraged the 4-H club she leads to volunteer their time. The event has certainly inspired me to encourage everyone I know (especially those who show or instruct youth) to go volunteer or just sit in the stands and cheer for the riders. The lessons learned at a Special Olympics horse show are so important for anyone - equestrian or not. Here, instead of seeing a rider crying over losing, there was a rider cheering because their friend had won first and they had won second.

When David rode into the arena (still as Walk Only - Assisted), he sat tall in the saddle, holding his reins correctly, guiding his horse, and proud. Throughout the entire class, and all of his other classes, David never once tried to stand in his stirrups, ride behind the cantle, or turn backwards. In two years, David had gone from an autistic young man who couldn't sit still, to a young man who was confident and proud in the saddle.

At the end of the day, Mom and I saw David's father, and told him and David just how proud of him we were. While David may not have understood, his father certainly did and tearfully thanked us for judging the show and being kind to David (as if anyone could be unkind to him!). He mentioned how David had started improving so much at home, in public, and in interacting with new people after he began working with the horses. The changes were apparent. Where before David had not noticed when we said hello or goodbye to him, as Mom backed the truck out of our parking space, we looked through the windshield to see David waving to us as we slowly drove home."

Vanya: Equine Therapist/Miracle worker

Written by V.

"My horse has been used for hippotherapy in the past. Usually kids would learn simple vaulting moves on him with side walkers and without as they got more confident. I know he has made a difference in the lives of hundreds of children with many different kinds of needs, but one young girl was very special for me to see learn from him.

The first day I met Alice she wouldn't meet my eyes or talk to me. She stuck close to her sister, who took very good care of her and was very patient with her, even when she would kick, bite, or hit her. She was definitely withdrawn and was completely non-verbal even at home for the most part. Her parents were not expecting miracles, but they were certainly hoping that involvement with horses would help her.

When she first saw Vanya, she was a little scared of him. She stood back from him and did not want to get nearer to him than about a foot. Her sister was very excited about the horses though, and I think Alice may have caught on to that, because she slowly approached Vanya and touched him, but then quickly withdrew again.

Over the course of a week of daily time with the Vanya, Alice became more and more comfortable with him. She finally got to the point where she let her sister and I lift her up on to his back and lead her around. Her smile was amazing.

Alice continued to work with Vanya, becoming more excited about her time with him. She still had yet to say a word to me or anyone else other than her mother though. After a couple weeks however, that changed. She would point at Vanya and say, "lead." She wanted to lead him around the pasture. I gave her his halter and lead and she walked him around, chattering to him constantly! It was amazing to see the changes in her.

Vanya and I worked with Alice for a couple summers. My biggest reward came when, after Alice had trotted by herself on Vanya for the first time, she got off, gave me a hug, and said, "Thank you." I was stunned. What was particularly wonderful to see as well, was the relief that the horses gave Alice's family. Her aggression was reduced and her sister found a passion for riding that she could enjoy while her sister was working with the horses. It was an honor to be able to be a part of Alice's life and to see her enjoy the horses; it was one of the most rewarding things I have ever done."