Nick and Emma’s Story
Contributed by Ellen Davidson, Nick and Emma’s mom
"How do I know that riding will be the thing that makes the difference? It’s simple: I can see it."
Fast forward 20 years. My kids are all grown up. We’re thinking back on our days at Windrush Farm and how it made all the difference to them. In their words, they tell me how the riding counterbalanced some of the more difficult challenges in their lives. They say that this so-called counterbalance was what they needed to face other academic and social demands on them. I listen and smile, because I know how right they are. How they are soaring now.
The truth is that they get a whole lot more at Windrush Farm than instruction. They get the time to better understand themselves. Windrush Farm acknowledges their special needs and honors their right to grow.
For now, I wouldn’t fast forward time for all the horses on the farm. I am overjoyed to hear my seven-year old twins describe how they love their ponies, how it feels to ride, and what they would do differently next time. We are definitely cantering in the right direction.
“I am so good with Guinness. I love Guinness,” says Emma with great self -assurance. “I am really good at whoa-ing,” she says. In contrast, her brother Nick says “I get to tell the horse what to do and nobody else is telling the horse what to do but me.” Nick has no idea how insightful he is about his own needs. Nick does very well when the rules are clear and structure is in place. It strikes me how clearly their comments reflect where they are and what they need to gain from the experience. Windrush Farm is teaching everyone, including me.
Every Wednesday afternoon, we all get this incredible feeling in our bones as we leave from their school for our 30-minute drive to Windrush Farm. The car is filled with the anticipation. As we turn off the highway and approach the farm, Emma says how she “loves horse country.” She is a perceptive 7-year old. We drive along, until we reach Brookview Road and hang a left. It’s a classic country road. There is absolutely nothing pretentious about it, nor need there be. There’s a horse, another horse, a brook and then there’s the symmetry of the road that offers up both security and familiarity. Leave it up to Mother Nature to line both sides of the road with leafy green ferns and large maple trees. We’re nearly there.
My kids are prepared for their lesson. The car ride has given them the chance to decompress from the school day. That’s what they need. That’s who they are. They are now ready for the tempo that both country and horses have to offer, and for the instructors who take them by the hand to make the lesson accessible to both children. That is what it is all about: all children can participate at Windrush Farm.
When my children are at Windrush Farm, they are so utterly focused on the riding lesson: on adjusting their ponies’ bridles, tightening their girths, making sure their toes turn up in the stirrups, giving the horse direction, and listening to the instructor. I see the change every time I hear my daughter, Emma, recount the steps she takes to ready the horse for riding. I see the change every time my son, Nick, slows down to ride. The lessons are methodical: one step at a time, there is no rushing the horse. It just can’t be done, and Nick now knows that.
Windrush farm is like a vaccine against poor self-esteem for any children with special needs, and I see it working for my kids. A typical day for a child with special needs might involve a number of frustrations due to the academic or social demands of the school day. A typical lesson at Windrush is based on forming a relationship between child and horse and instructor that takes them far away from the daily grind.
My daughter Emma loves her riding lessons, and she loves her horse, Guinness, and her instructor, Susan Lutz, just as much. The riding lessons are giving her a sense of mastery and accomplishment. Throughout her entire life, Emma has worked incredibly hard to achieve the milestones of many typically-developing children. She worked very hard to walk but even harder to learn to talk. She’s now working very hard to read.
My son, Nick, is equally in love with riding. He is extremely bright but struggles with issues of self-regulation and organization. As I once heard in a lecture I attended by Dr. Hallowell (from the Hallowell Center in Sudbury): “ADHD is one of the most difficult gifts to unwrap.” Well, that is certainly true at times but not impossible. My husband and I have been on a mission to help Nick “unwrap” his gifts and to give Nick the tools to pave a road for himself that won’t be too rocky for him. Nobody feels good traveling along a rocky road for any length of time. Windrush farm gives him the time he needs to think clearly to figure out a couple of better strategies to employ.
How do I know that riding will be the thing that makes the difference? It’s simple: I can see it.
