Reaching autism patients through music

Kenny Bujarski, 43, has had a rough week emotionally and lies curled up on a couch, covered head to toe with a heavy yellow blanket. LaShauna White, 27, rocks frantically, lamenting, "We're not doing beads." Danny Genest, 41, keeps asking for his electric fan and reaching over to hug the head of aide Gail Spartz.

They barely notice when MacPhail Center for Music's Jenifer Josephson enters the room, toting large bags filled with drums, CDs, bean bags, colorful scarves and an electric guitar. She's been coming to Opportunity Partners' Karlins Center in Plymouth, Minn., since October to teach a weekly music therapy class for adults with autism.

Music therapy has long been used to treat autism. What is different here is that MacPhail designed "Music to Our Ears" specifically for people ages 21 to 43 who have moderate to severe autism.

"Look what I brought, Kenny. You got all your stars and earned the electric guitar!" Josephson says.

Bujarski moans but doesn't sit up. Josephson could prod. Instead, she tries to see the world as he does -- as a chaotic, confusing, dangerous place. When he feels overwhelmed, Bujarski hits himself on the head. He spends about 80 percent of his time alone in a room, by choice.

"It's huge that he chose to come to music therapy today," said Susan Fries, manager of Karlins, one of Minnesota's only employment-focused day training and rehabilitation programs for adults with autism spectrum disorders.

Every day is different. Today Bujarski is difficult to reach. But he will be the star of the class in two weeks, earning stars for cooperating, playing instruments and singing along. After accumulating 20 stars, he gets to pick a reward. His favorites are the electric guitar and drum set.

All of these autistic clients love music.

"We don't stop with one or two methods and say, 'Oh, this isn't working,'" Fries said. "We continue until we find a way that works for that individual. Every day we're looking for new connections."

Autism is a spectrum disorder that encompasses a range of severity, behavior and cognitive abilities. But generally, people with autism are captive to their own inner worlds, Fries said. When they want something, they want it immediately. They find it hard to block out competing stimuli to focus on a single voice, idea or activity. Some respond by rocking or hitting themselves to express distress or refocus their thoughts.

Through music therapy these clients are learning to take turns, follow directions, use words to get what they want, express emotion in socially acceptable ways and interact with others.

That includes the daunting task of calling peers by name.

Josephson has learned that she can tease Loher and be firm with Dodge. But the more options she gives Bujarski, the less likely he is to hit himself in frustration. When she asks him to pass out drums to classmates, she reminds him, "You can say, 'No, thank you.' "

A muffled "No, thank you" comes through the blanket. "Way to go, Kenny!" Josephson says, quietly setting the drum where he can reach it. Bujarski can't resist. Soon he is thumping rhythms in time with his classmates.

E-I-E-I-O doesn't feel like work "Music is processed in both the right and left hemispheres of the brain," Josephson said. So it can bridge damaged or impaired areas of the brain. Music is fun. It's empowering. Everyone can be successful at singing, playing a drum, unfurling a parachute or simply choosing a CD. So Josephson can work on the same goals that an occupational or physical therapist might without it feeling like work to clients.

Halfway through class, Bujarski sits up and asks for Simon & Garfunkel's "Hazy Shade of Winter." It is a turning point. Soon he's standing, insisting that Josephson "put on a 45!" And when Josephson asks how he feels now, Bujarski blurts an emphatic "FINE!" The black light goes on, the school of fish on the wall glows and Lauren Dodge grins for all she's worth.

(Distributed by Scripps Howard News Service, www.scrippsnews.com.)