Autism center in Lovington earns national recognition

LOVINGTON — Jaren Gonzalez appears to remember two things about everybody he has met: Their date of birth and their favorite beverage.

During a recent visit to his childhood school, the 22-year-old, wearing multiple bracelets and necklaces with tags, unfailingly recalled his former teachers’ birthdays and their preferred coffees, teas or sodas.

As a first grader in 2010, Gonzalez was among the original students of what is now the Lovington Autism Center for Education and Services, or LACES, part of the Lovington Municipal School District. In 2010, it served 16 students. This year, it serves 68 elementary students with a staff of 34.

It began as a small autism resource team with training from autism specialists at the University of New Mexico, figuring out how to serve a growing population of students with special needs. In its 15th year, LACES is a full-fledged autism education center, sought out by other educators and institutions as a model.

In June, LACES won the National School Boards Association’s Magna Award honoring “innovation and creativity in solving an education challenge.”

Lovington Schools Superintendent Pamela Quinones told the Journal the center “has grown into a vital hub that not only provides students with essential academic and social opportunities but also raises awareness and understanding across our entire community.”

LACES occupies a former vocational education building on the public schools’ campus, as well as a new portable trailer, a playground and a classroom space within the sixth-grade academy. LACES has also spawned satellite programs serving middle and high school students.

When LACES began, special education teacher Cheryl Amundsen taught preschool at a time when teachers and parents confronted a growing challenge.

“For some reason, we had this influx of children with really high needs, that had autism or were in the midst of getting diagnosed,” Amundsen recalled. “Parents were coming to us and saying, ‘This is so hard. What am I doing?’”

Diagnoses of the developmental condition known as autism spectrum disorder have increased 300% over 20 years, as reported this summer by the Wendy Klag Center for Autism and Development Disabilities. The center’s vice-director, Christine Ladd-Acosta, attributed that figure to “a gradual rise over the past 20 years due to broadened diagnostic definitions, better screening and increased awareness” in an interview for the Public Health On Call podcast.

Individuals with autism vary widely in their symptoms and needs, and no single cause has been determined. Autism can affect speech and communication; social behavior and relationships; reactions to light, sound or other sensations; fulfillment of tasks and routines; and regulating emotions or physical movements.

It also presents problems for school settings, particularly in smaller communities like Lovington, a city of under 12,000 people north of Hobbs, in New Mexico’s southeast corner. Last year, the school district served 3,400 students, of whom 85% identified as Hispanic or Latino, with 18% of its students receiving special education services.

Initially, certain staff members underwent training and autism-specific classrooms were established at school sites, but with staff turnover and growing need, Amundsen and other Lovington staff built a central hub for services instead.

“We’ve had some kids that have had some pretty big behavior issues when they’re older, and now we know this is something we need to start doing when they’re 3 years old,” Amundsen said.

In the old vocational building, adaptable physical barriers create cozy classroom areas for individuals or small groups. Clocks, timers and velcro strips are everywhere, the latter to help children follow through on tasks using cards with images on them that can be stuck to velcro strips in the appropriate locations.

Designated areas help students work on skills such as tying shoes, cleaning bedrooms and preparing food. Among the more popular areas is an alcove with a Wii video game console, part of a system of rewards and incentives that also provide space for sensory stimulation and release. Students practice “money math” by earning token money used to buy items at a small store within LACES.

There is a computer lab where students’ activity is monitored, and a system of cubbies with a variety of objects, such as stress balls, fidget spinners or textured items, accessible to the children.

In a separate trailer, children with limited verbal skills receive individual instruction while learning to communicate with a specialized app on tablet computers, an investment shared by the school district as well as fundraising by LACES — the center’s only revenue sources.

The special education teachers, instructional assistants and therapists at LACES support the students’ core academic studies as well as practical skills. The students receive counseling, adaptive physical education and weight training. Some participate on school athletic teams or perform in school plays. One alumnus of LACES is now a math tutor there. Others have earned driver’s licenses and moved on to college or the local work force.

The program emphasizes connecting each student’s education plan with household routines and helping families support children with autism, Amundsen said, while LACES integrates them into the conventional school environment at the child’s own pace.

Some children may spend their entire school day at LACES, while others come for particular services or instruction, or simply to cool down in one of the sensory rooms, with low lighting, ball pits and spaces to curl up.

In one classroom space, where occupational and speech and language therapists work with students, a simple café setup allows children to practice making beverages to order, filling orders using visual cards for ingredients and specifications such as “with ice.”

This is where Gonzalez acquired his interest in people’s beverages of choice.

In the beginning, Amundsen said Gonzalez presented some tough behaviors at home and in school. Now grown, he has worked at a local coffee shop and a grocery store, and he is socially outgoing, showing off his lightning-quick memory for dates and various facts with an infectious laugh.

As he looked around the space where he received services as a child, Gonzalez said, “I miss it so much,” though he admitted the kindergarten area was a trifle loud for him now.

Quinones paid tribute to the LACES staff, saying “their passion, expertise and unwavering belief in every child’s potential have transformed lives and built a program that is both respected and deeply valued.”

Looking back over LACES’ first 14 years of development, Amundsen looked ahead, saying she hoped to see the center expand its early intervention, hone the staff’s mastery of alternative communication technology and increase parent education and training.

“That’s always something we need to be better at,” she said. “We’ve had such an influx of students that need to learn how to communicate outside of their voice — getting younger with that, getting parents to use it at home.”

The Magna award was a welcome affirmation of the staff’s work, but Amundsen said she measured success in growing trust among parents as well as watching students flourish in school and grow into adults.

“I think we’ve tackled a lot of the big challenges we set for ourselves,” she said. “I can see our kids, that have been LACES kids, versus when I see other students in other ages at other schools, and I know what we do works. There is no doubt about it.”