I can do it myself!
The familiar phrase that any parent - especially mine - has heard again and again. The reaction tends to be protective and well-intentioned - yes, you can do it yourself, but I'll just help you so no one gets hurt.
But if the adult (or whoever is liable) ends up doing the task, the child does not buy the tagline "see, you did it yourself!" when in fact they have not. They DO buy what is implicit in the interaction: the adult not trusting the child, the child not learning the skill or to trust themselves.
In many cases, it's a minor occurrence - a book is carried to the shelf, a glass of milk is poured. Perhaps a glass is spilled. Perhaps a knee is scraped from a fall from a bike. Perhaps a horse turns a corner. The instructor does not want to see the child fail, especially if they are disabled (physically and/or mentally) and, more importantly, does not want to see the rider hurt. Thus, leaders and sidewalkers end up doing most of the work followed by the all-important "look what you did on your own!"
But in therapeutic riding, leaders and sidewalkers are responsible for a person who is told all the time "cannot" both explicitly and implicitly. They cannot walk on their own. They cannot ride the bus. Cannot scoop ice cream for themself. Cannot cross the street. In the lesson, they have additionally learned Cannot steer the horse, cannot pet the horse, cannot enter the stall, cannot get it moving.
But now eliminate the second half of the contraction and imagine the rider who, after fourteen fails, gets the horse to move on try number fifteen. They have learned "can." For someone in a world of cannots, that one hard-earned "can" is more important, I think, than all the cannots it took to get there. And the instructor does not have to say anything.
I have 5 independent riders in the morning session to my care and one in the afternoons. (Independent refers to the fact that they control the horse without aid of a leader. The terminology, note, differs for different organizations.) Today I had the comment from one sidewalker: "That's really great they can ride on their own. In my three years here I've never seen that." Granted, she's seen a very small cross-section of RDA riders, and the riders that show up to her particular sessions are very nearly random, that is, it is partially only coincidence that two riders capable of independence come on Thursday mornings during the Jan. - Mar. 2007 session. But the part that is not coincidence is that the leader has to take that huge leap off the bridge and unclip the lead rope and, well, see what happens.
The obligatory safety disclaimer: You must be an experienced leader as well as sidewalker, know what to do in an emergency, etc. and be especially sensitive to the rider's particular disability, psychological state, as well as the other horses in the arena ..... in other words, it's the teacher's (read:
my) fault if anything happens to the rider, and I'm aware of that.
But in this risk analysis, I tend to take the plunge. If they have good control, I don't get caught up in my having the traditional job as "leader," I let the rider take over and let them know it. I try not to condescend to the rider. I want the rider to have fun firstly, but I don't let them just mess around for 45 minutes. In this sense, I don't think it's coincidence that allows two independent riders on the same horse in this session. I think there could be a lot more independent riders, actually, if the leader would just trust the bungee cord and the technicians who have tied it and jump off the platform of safety, security, control.
I do get feedback from the riders which is lucky, as some seem to have no idea whether they are on a horse or on Mars. They cannot write me a recommendation letter (though maybe I should ask, I'm looking for jobs now...anyone need a physicist/mathematician/riding instructor??) but they do spend a good five minutes looking to make eye contact with me once they've boarded the schoolbus, then persistently waving until I think, 'that little hand is going to fall off soon...hope it's not the writing hand.'
Finally, I don't think my leading/sidewalking any miracle. I just try to think about asking for more than I expect of the riders, a concept I learned from amazing women like Liliana (San Juan, AR), Fabiola (Chihuahua, MX), and Fatima (Brasilia, BR). They are not living their passions by giving pony rides to people they pity. They are making a difference by giving confidence and expecting effort in return. Fabiola used to say "
Si se puede!" (Yes you can!) ... she'd never let out a "cannot la."
*****note. 'can' and 'cannot' are staple phrases of 'Singlish'... as in response to a question regarding ability to do something, "can la!" or "cannot la!" where "la" is used in the manner of the Canadian (Buffalo....) "eh."
