The Center for Adult Education

Naughty Briana, Alex and I decided to cut Paul's tutorial yesterday and made a trip to CAE for some pre-shoot material. With the Draft Treatment (worth 15%) due today, we made an educated decision that we cannot write a three page draft without making a dedicated attempt to understand the subject of our focus: Intellectually disabled students.

First things first, hats off to the guys and spin doctors at CAE for coming out with that acronym. From where I come from, physical and intellectual disabilities are 'frowned' upon, as the Government only wants to create an army of robots who think and talk alike. So, a disability means you are imperfect. And thus, should you be going to school, the school will proudly display the 'Special' tag. But over at CAE, the name is respectable - while mildly misleading as I discovered later - and it does not undermine the students' determination to be treated like normal people. And that's the feeling I got when I first stepped into the building.



We spent about two hours with the students. Actually, I daresay the adults would not like to be called 'students'. After introducing ourselves and having gone through a round of introductions, the three of us sat behind the classroom and observed the proceedings. Some of the 'students' have been to CAE for over a decade. There must be something about the program that encourages the 'students' to keep returning.

After chatting with a few 'students', I realised that a lot of them return to CAE for the physical and emotional company. These 'students' do not have many friends outside their school, home or work network and return to CAE as the people here are 'similar' to them. I was struck with how the entire class eagerly responded to the teacher's questions. I couldn't help but feel drawn to the whole experience.


(Above): Bree with Lee, the oldest student in class. You might have seen him before, selling newspapers along Flinders Street.

My brush with disability came early in my life. Okay, perhaps it's not fair to compare myself with what I've witnessed yesterday, but I'm trying to put things in perspective.

I was born with a slight speech impediment - I used to stutter a lot. It was only in recent years that I have managed to control it. Speaking out in public and having the confidence to speak to people took me many years to overcome, but I'm mastering my own imperfections.

Also, I have an autistic cousin. I used to see her rather regularly in family gatherings, but since then the family ties had worsened. 'Generation problems', I'd like to call them. Stuff between my folks and their siblings. Whatever. So I haven't seen her for almost a decade now.

Many people live their entire lives without experiencing the pain or joy of someone's imperfections. What the 'students' go through, I can only begin to understand. But I felt their loneliness, as ostracism due to something that was beyond their control is unfair. I was in that position once, and I empathise.

Anyway, while the team has yet to decide what angle the documentary should work on, I am leaning towards showing the loneliness of these adults. At only four to seven minutes, there's really not a lot to capture, but I hope it gives people a brief insight to another world that most 'perfect' people will never experience.