A Mother's Care:
Meet three special moms

Mothers of children with special needs know their sons and daughters as intimately as a mother can. They know what their children need, whether it’s extra speech therapy, equality in the classroom or bypassing the classroom altogether.

Meet three special moms: One who’s chosen to advocate for all children, one who homeschools her teenager and one who brought her daughter to a happy and fulfilling adulthood. By KATHLEEN D. BAILEY

The Wonder Years: The Genthner Family

Deborah Genthner wouldn’t change much about her life.

She’s married to her college sweetheart, Chris; delayed having children until they had the house of their dreams; and gladly left the workforce to care for Alex, 8, and Jackie, 6. She wouldn’t even go back in time to have Alex diagnosed with autism earlier. “If he had been, I might not have had her,” she said.

Jackie was 13 months old when Alex received his final diagnosis. Genthner’s doctors tried to allay her fears, telling her, “He’s a boy,” and “He’ll grow out of it.” When she finally had his autism confirmed as a fact, she rolled up her sleeves and dealt with it.

Alex is now a second-grader in a regular classroom at Ellis School in Fremont. He receives special services from the school district, whom Genthner calls “wonderful,” and she takes him to occupational therapy classes on her own.
Beyond that, caring for Alex is part of her lifestyle. He requires constant supervision, she said, relaxing in her immaculate kitchen.

“He’s very resourceful, and if he doesn’t know the word for something, he’ll get it himself – whether or not he’s supposed to have it,” she said with a laugh.

Jackie, now in kindergarten, has taken on the big-sister role for her older brother. Genthner remembers a time when she was taking a shower and Alex broke a screen to get outside. Jackie was a toddler, but came to her mother yelling, “Mommy, Alex outside!”

“She looks out for him,” Genthner said.

But Genthner decided from the start that neither of her children would be shunted aside. She had a cousin with cystic fibrosis who died at 19. “His older brother took the brunt of it,” she said.

So Genthner makes sure Jackie pursues her own interests. She just finished a session of indoor soccer, attends Kindermusik classes and goes to children’s programs at the Fremont Public Library.

“She just started karate, and they’re hilarious,” Genthner said of the little ninjas.

Alex likes to swim, and she’s looking for a place close to home, “so he can get that energy out.”

But Genthner isn’t content to just play the hand life dealt her – she’s working to get better “hands” for all children. She’s a member of the Fremont School Board, PTO and Friends of the Library. She just ended a term on the Fremont Recreation Board. She’s also on the board of directors of the Autism Society of New Hampshire.

She makes it work with a lot of help. Chris is supportive of her volunteer activities, she said. She also has her mother living with them in an attached apartment, although Genthner is firm that, “She’s not a live-in babysitter.” But Mom is there when they need her.

And Genthner has an incredibly supportive network of friends. “When I need something, they’re there. They’ll arrange a playdate for Jackie, whatever.”

But more often, Jackie rides shotgun as Genthner tools around town, going about the business of making kids’ lives better. “She’s my best friend, my right-hand man,” Genthner said of her daughter.

Genthner doesn’t see herself as any kind of a heroine. “You just make it work,” she said with a shrug. “A friend of mine said, ‘I don’t think I could do what you do.’ And I said, ‘You could if you had to.’”

Lessons for a teacher: The LANDRY FAMILY

Before her first son was born, Charlotte Landry of Derry knew she would homeschool him. The plan didn’t change when she discovered his learning disabilities – the diagnosis confirmed that David Jr. is better off at home.

Landry spends three days a week teaching David Jr., 15, and his brother Nathan, 8. On

Tuesdays and Thursdays, they go to a cooperative program where they study subjects she’s not comfortable teaching, such as David Jr.’s high school chemistry and algebra.

Charlotte and her husband, David Sr., are committed Christians and members of the Londonderry Church of the Nazarene. Her faith is the primary reason for the homeschooling: She wants to pass on her unique set of values to her sons.

David Jr. was special from birth. Born with several medical problems, he was transported to Boston Children’s Hospital four hours after his birth. His little life hung in the balance. But Landry had “given” him to God before he was born.

She remembers one afternoon in an isolation room with her baby. She was attending the Lowell, Mass., Church of the Nazarene at the time. “There were two women from the Lowell church praying for David. I could hear their prayers – but they were in Lowell.”

At that moment, Landry recalled, “I knew David was going to make it – and God told me, ‘He’s mine.’”
Young David was 4 months old before they could bring him home.

David Jr. is diagnosed as “mildly retarded” with an anxiety disorder. He learns a little slower than most children and learns better with hands-on activities. He’s uncomfortable in crowds. At the cooperative, he’s known as a “nontraditional learner.”

Landry uses the Alpha Omega curriculum from Christian Book Distributors and adapts it to both sons’ needs. She teaches David three days a week in the summer, so he doesn’t forget what he learned during the school year.
Landry briefly considered public school, with its range of therapists and specialists. But David Jr.’s full diagnosis made her stay with the homeschooling.

“With his anxiety, he does better one-on-one,” she said with a shrug. “They would have ended up getting him a tutor anyway.” She’s also convinced David is better off at home. “The public schools would have labeled him.”

And David Landry Jr. is a boy who defies labeling. Deeply spiritual, he enjoys youth group, church services and the ministry of the Rev. Eddy Frost, his pastor. He prays often and reads his Bible in times of anxiety.

The boy who would have been “coded” in public school has a talent for memorizing Bible verses. He competes with his church’s Bible Quiz Team and earned 19th place in Bible Quizzing this year for the New England District Church of the Nazarene. “Anything spiritual, he knows,” Landry said.

And in matters of faith, David Jr. has been the teacher. “Every time I start to lose my faith, God will do something wonderful through David,” Landry said. She tears up as she says, “It is a privilege to be his mother.”

The fighter: The STEIR FAMILY

Linda Steir is a toucher. In the course of a conversation, she’ll pat a person’s arm or take their hand to show them something. She laughs often, has a direct gaze and remembers people’s names. The skills come in handy at SarahCare Adult Day Services, the Hampstead business she runs with her daughter Marika, 21.

Steir honed her people skills the hard way – by fighting for her daughter. Afflicted with meningitis as an infant, Marika gets around in a wheelchair and has no use of her right hand. Her verbal skills are weak, and she prefers to communicate in American Sign Language and by computer. Her condition is similar to cerebral palsy, Steir said.

Though the Americans With Disabilities Act was in full swing by Marika’s birth in 1986, Steir still found herself with a fight on her hands. Marika has a sharp mind, and Steir was determined she would have the advantages of every other child.

Her first test came when Marika was 3, and the “experts” recommended that she go to a special school in Lawrence, Mass. Steir said no.

“I wanted her to have friends, like her brother Morgan.”

She brought a legal challenge to the Timberlane School District, and Marika went to a local special needs preschool before transferring to a “regular” preschool.

She later told Marika’s elementary school staff, “I don’t want her to go to special education. She has a normal IQ. I want her to graduate high school, with a real diploma, and she’ll go to college if I have to buy one.”

At least one school staff member rolled their eyes, Steir recalled.

But she only had one problem in elementary school, when a sixth-grade social studies teacher sent Marika to the special education room.

“She said, ‘Why does Marika need to learn this?’” Steir said. “By then, Marika had already been to Japan with me once, and Australia twice. It was a case of diminished expectations.”

Her most visible battle came in 1998, when the Girl Scouts of America found Steir a tough cookie. Marika had been in a Girl Scout troop, but the Steirs were not happy.

“The leader kept planning things in places that were not accessible.”

When they investigated another troop, the leader said no because she “wasn’t comfortable” having a handicapped child in the troop. Though Steir said she’d stay and help, the leader resisted, and Steir and her husband, Michael, brought a lawsuit as far as the national organization. They dropped the suit when Marika decided she no longer wanted to be in Scouts, but Steir is happy that the “Girl Scouts ended up doing a lot of the things we asked for.”

When Marika was nearing the end of high school, Steir began to think about a job for her daughter.

Steir said Marika had volunteered at a nursing home in Derry and liked it. She felt her daughter would also be more comfortable with a job in the medical field, “where they accept her for who she is.”

The Steirs bought SarahCare, a franchise of an Ohio company which provides licensed adult day care and other services.

Linda is executive director; Marika is participant services coordinator; and Michael, in between private consulting on patent law, works the desk.

Marika, in a raspberry-colored hoodie, has her brown hair fashionably streaked with gold. She maneuvers her wheelchair around the other wheelchairs, stopping to chat with a client or pat them with her good hand. She kibitzes on board games and sits in on craft sessions.

Marika’s best contribution, Steir said, is monitoring where people are. SarahCare has several clients with Alzheimer’s, and Marika always knows when someone is going out the door.

With SarahCare launched and the public schools behind them, Steir doesn’t have to fight as much. But she uses her skills and connections to help her clients, and she’s still planning for Marika’s future.

She and Michael hope to open another franchise, to secure their daughter’s financial future, and they hope to see her live on her own one day, perhaps in an extended-family situation.

But for now, they have a business to run. Steir follows Marika as her daughter wheels herself up to the craft table, next to a woman named Marie. Marie had a stroke, Steir said, and does not talk. But when Marika puts out a hand, Marie grasps it and begins to laugh. Her eyes connect with the younger woman’s. “Ma-Ma-Ma,” she says.

And Steir brushes her daughter’s cheek with her hand.

Kathleen D. Bailey is a freelance writer who lives in Raymond.