Ohhh Friday. Thus far, I've been with the teenage females. Today I was with the younger children. There are no females presently, just 5 boys. You'd think that a small amount like that would be easily contained.

Upon entering the ward, I saw that a staff member was following Tommy around. This means that he's on a 1:1. The person assigned to him has to follow him everywhere, watch him in the bathroom and the shower, and even watch him sleep. Tommy's autistic. He doesn't talk much, but makes noises; pops and buzzes (literally)mostly. The problem with many mentally ill children is that their parents spoiled them. Their need to get up and walk around, speak, or even dress themselves is gone because their parents do it for them. I suppose their parents feel that they don't have the mental capacity to do it or they don't have the effort and time to teach them the basics of life. Big mistake, people.

When you look him in the face, it appears as though his eyes are never really focused on anything, least of all you. His face is normally vacant and without expression unless he's expressing pain; the universal look of streaming tears and an open whining mouth. He's nine years old.

Tommy's also very compulsive. I walked in and immediately saw him pick up a VHS on the table by the nurse's station. "Is that YOURS?" asked his 1:1. She blocked his way, but he ran around her AND a couch and into his room with the tape. The supervisor chuckled - she does so often - and said in her jamaican/mexican/black lady accent "Don't worry. He'll just line it up with the rest of them." Tommy doesn't attend rehab classes with the others. He normally doesn't go outside to play either. The only activity he does with everyone is meals.

I'm there for dinner. Once again everyone is to sit and come when their name is called. Tommy was called last, and though he appears to not understand you when you ask him to do something, he can certainly get up and come get his tray of food and take it back to the same place he was sitting. The other children always ask for seconds of this or that and argue over different shit. Tommy sat quietly with his 1:1 and ate.

The dining room is split in two by a wall painted in an elaborately colored forest. On the other side of the wall is a large entertainment center. The other children had thrown away their trash and trays. Tommy was still eating when he put down his utensils, jumped up and ran around the wall. You could hear the *skiiiiiirt* of a chair being moved out of the way so that he could open the entertainment center. I could see around the corner that he was loading up his arms up with VHS tapes. The supervisor laughed hard this time. "It's like he just remembered where those tapes were." she said. They then told me that the reason he was there was because he'd broken into two people's houses to steal their tapes. "He must have saw them in the window and he broke in ands took them." Time of day and whether some one was home or not didn't matter to him. I can't imagine what he's like in a store.

When we took them all back to the ward, Tommy wouldn't sit still. He would come up to his 1:1, sit by her, look off into space, and then reach over and pinch her without eason and without warning. Thoughout the day I saw him pinch, hit, kick, scratch, and stomp on different people's feet. I was also told by another child that he was punched by him earlier in the day. I watched as Tommy pinched the supervisor. She took him straight to the "quiet room." He screamed and screamed for about an hour. Every once in awhile you could hear the SLAM of him banging his arms against the window. No intelligible words ever came out of his screaming.

Believe it or not, there's a swimming pool at the facility. They've just built a new one, but it's not open yet because there's construction very close by. We promised the kids that we'd take them swimming (the 4 boys without Tommy that is). We took them outside and got the 2ft deep plastic pool and filled it with water. Some of them don't have swimwear, but their clothes are washed regularly, so we allowed them to swim in the clothes they were wearing as long as they took their shirts off to minimize dripping when we went back inside.

Marcos had taken his shirt off and you could see little red dots all over his stomach and scratch marks on his back. It looked quite mild. I noticed it immediately but didn't think anything of it. Another staff member called a nurse right away and he came to check it out. Marcos was VERY angry when we told him that he coudn't swim anymore with everyone else. "That's not fair! They're just ant bites! " he wailed. The nurse took him inside and never returned with him. The coworker that had called the nurse immediately began to descirbe different diseases that it could be.

We let them "swim" in the two feet of water for about an hour. We took them all back in for showers. On the unit, the nurse was waiting with Marcos. He told us that he has a mild case of Scabies. Scabies is caused by tiny mites - chiggers - that burrow into the skin and lay eggs and feces throught the body, normally in the warmest parts; the crotch and armpits.

I could hear down the hall that Tommy wasn't liking his showertime. It was taking two staff to bathe him. He was screaming and screaming. The other children had finished their showers and were watching cartoons like nothing was happening nearby, just zoning out the screams. Meanwhile, another staff was taking all Marcos' clothes away from him, getting him new sheets and disinfecting the plastic cover on his mattress.

After his bath, Tommy was on a rampage and had to be put in the quiet room again. The nurse arrived and we took him to his room. There on the counter were about 30 video tapes, all VHS. All his toys were neatly stacked on top in a very organized manner. I watched as two staff held him down, pulled his shorts down and injected two shots, one in each asscheek. He screamd "Momma! Momma!" over and over; the first word I'd heard him say all day. The nurse informed me that the two meds couldn't be mixed and took effect at different times. That's why they were each done in a different cheek. Tommy sat on his bed for awhile crying, face of pain, and rubbed his ass. I bent to look at his movies and he said "Don't touch! Don't touch!" The supervisor chuckled again and left the room.

After Lilo and Stitch, and after lights out, Marcos refused to sleep. He said he wanted his teddybear, but we had taken it away from him because of the Scabies. He had to be put in the quiet room again and the nurse came again to give him meds. Eventually, he slept like a rock.