Activity 2.18 : Hampshire School for Wayward Wizards

*Excerpt from Hampshire School for Wayward Wizards
by Sy Montgomery

(1) … But the memories she treasures most from high school are of the horses. All these years later, she remembers each of them by name. Bay Lady was the horse she rode most of the time: great in the ring—but halfway on the trail she'd prance and plunge. Otherwise she was the “perfect lady.” Star couldn't compete in horse shows because she had ankle problems. Circus, a big, gentle horse, died of colic, a digestive disease brought on by eating oat straw. Beauty was gorgeous, but he bit and kicked. Teddy was gentle enough for the littlest kids. King was an old gray horse, so well-mannered that just about anyone could ride him: then you could graduate to riding someone like Flash or Silver. Lady was hot-tempered, and her eyes were wild. “Nobody could ride that horse,” Tina Henegar, another schoolmate, remembered. “But Temple could—and beautifully. She was the best.”

(2) Temple loved them all and could ride better than anyone.

(3) It's no wonder. Horses, like autistic people, are very sensitive to detail and don't like change. That's why a horse might be frightened by a new white hat, but not a familiar black one—or might panic at the sight of a common object like a wheelbarrow in an unusual place or seen from a different angle. Temple could tell when a horse was starting to get nervous: a fearful horse swishes his tail, and the swishing becomes more rapid with mounting fear. But because Temple also noticed the same details the horses did—like a bale of hay slightly out of place—she could make small changes to calm the animal's fear before it turned to panic.

(4) Temple spent much of her time in the horse barn. She cleaned the stalls. She refilled the feed bins. She cleaned the leather bridles and saddles and other equipment, making repairs if needed. When the farrier came to hammer new shoes onto the horses' hooves, she held the reins and kept the horses calm.

(5) Back at home, Temple's mother wished her daughter would study harder and get better grades instead of riding horses and mending bridles. But Temple was proud that she now had an important, responsible job in the barn. The welfare of nine horses depended largely on her care. To Temple, her academic classes didn't seem to matter half as much. They were “boring, boring, boring.”

(6) Soon she began to find it impossible to concentrate on schoolwork anyway. Now in high school, she felt that something new and terrible was happening to her. Her body was changing. The rush of new chemicals her body was producing to change her into a young woman threw Temple's unusual brain into overdrive. She started having panic attacks.

*Excerpt from Hampshire School for Wayward Wizards
by Sy Montgomery

(1) … But the memories she treasures most from high school are of the horses. All these years later, she remembers each of them by name. Bay Lady was the horse she rode most of the time: great in the ring—but halfway on the trail she'd prance and plunge. Otherwise she was the “perfect lady.” Star couldn't compete in horse shows because she had ankle problems. Circus, a big, gentle horse, died of colic, a digestive disease brought on by eating oat straw. Beauty was gorgeous, but he bit and kicked. Teddy was gentle enough for the littlest kids. King was an old gray horse, so well-mannered that just about anyone could ride him: then you could graduate to riding someone like Flash or Silver. Lady was hot-tempered, and her eyes were wild. “Nobody could ride that horse,” Tina Henegar, another schoolmate, remembered. “But Temple could—and beautifully. She was the best.”

(2) Temple loved them all and could ride better than anyone.

(3) It's no wonder. Horses, like autistic people, are very sensitive to detail and don't like change. That's why a horse might be frightened by a new white hat, but not a familiar black one—or might panic at the sight of a common object like a wheelbarrow in an unusual place or seen from a different angle. Temple could tell when a horse was starting to get nervous: a fearful horse swishes his tail, and the swishing becomes more rapid with mounting fear. But because Temple also noticed the same details the horses did—like a bale of hay slightly out of place—she could make small changes to calm the animal's fear before it turned to panic.

(4) Temple spent much of her time in the horse barn. She cleaned the stalls. She refilled the feed bins. She cleaned the leather bridles and saddles and other equipment, making repairs if needed. When the farrier came to hammer new shoes onto the horses' hooves, she held the reins and kept the horses calm.

(5) Back at home, Temple's mother wished her daughter would study harder and get better grades instead of riding horses and mending bridles. But Temple was proud that she now had an important, responsible job in the barn. The welfare of nine horses depended largely on her care. To Temple, her academic classes didn't seem to matter half as much. They were “boring, boring, boring.”

(6) Soon she began to find it impossible to concentrate on schoolwork anyway. Now in high school, she felt that something new and terrible was happening to her. Her body was changing. The rush of new chemicals her body was producing to change her into a young woman threw Temple's unusual brain into overdrive. She started having panic attacks.

*Excerpt from Hampshire School for Wayward Wizards
by Sy Montgomery

(1) … But the memories she treasures most from high school are of the horses. All these years later, she remembers each of them by name. Bay Lady was the horse she rode most of the time: great in the ring—but halfway on the trail she'd prance and plunge. Otherwise she was the “perfect lady.” Star couldn't compete in horse shows because she had ankle problems. Circus, a big, gentle horse, died of colic, a digestive disease brought on by eating oat straw. Beauty was gorgeous, but he bit and kicked. Teddy was gentle enough for the littlest kids. King was an old gray horse, so well-mannered that just about anyone could ride him: then you could graduate to riding someone like Flash or Silver. Lady was hot-tempered, and her eyes were wild. “Nobody could ride that horse,” Tina Henegar, another schoolmate, remembered. “But Temple could—and beautifully. She was the best.”

(2) Temple loved them all and could ride better than anyone.

(3) It's no wonder. Horses, like autistic people, are very sensitive to detail and don't like change. That's why a horse might be frightened by a new white hat, but not a familiar black one—or might panic at the sight of a common object like a wheelbarrow in an unusual place or seen from a different angle. Temple could tell when a horse was starting to get nervous: a fearful horse swishes his tail, and the swishing becomes more rapid with mounting fear. But because Temple also noticed the same details the horses did—like a bale of hay slightly out of place—she could make small changes to calm the animal's fear before it turned to panic.

(4) Temple spent much of her time in the horse barn. She cleaned the stalls. She refilled the feed bins. She cleaned the leather bridles and saddles and other equipment, making repairs if needed. When the farrier came to hammer new shoes onto the horses' hooves, she held the reins and kept the horses calm.

(5) Back at home, Temple's mother wished her daughter would study harder and get better grades instead of riding horses and mending bridles. But Temple was proud that she now had an important, responsible job in the barn. The welfare of nine horses depended largely on her care. To Temple, her academic classes didn't seem to matter half as much. They were “boring, boring, boring.”

(6) Soon she began to find it impossible to concentrate on schoolwork anyway. Now in high school, she felt that something new and terrible was happening to her. Her body was changing. The rush of new chemicals her body was producing to change her into a young woman threw Temple's unusual brain into overdrive. She started having panic attacks.

*Excerpt from Hampshire School for Wayward Wizards
by Sy Montgomery

(1) … But the memories she treasures most from high school are of the horses. All these years later, she remembers each of them by name. Bay Lady was the horse she rode most of the time: great in the ring—but halfway on the trail she'd prance and plunge. Otherwise she was the “perfect lady.” Star couldn't compete in horse shows because she had ankle problems. Circus, a big, gentle horse, died of colic, a digestive disease brought on by eating oat straw. Beauty was gorgeous, but he bit and kicked. Teddy was gentle enough for the littlest kids. King was an old gray horse, so well-mannered that just about anyone could ride him: then you could graduate to riding someone like Flash or Silver. Lady was hot-tempered, and her eyes were wild. “Nobody could ride that horse,” Tina Henegar, another schoolmate, remembered. “But Temple could—and beautifully. She was the best.”

(2) Temple loved them all and could ride better than anyone.

(3) It's no wonder. Horses, like autistic people, are very sensitive to detail and don't like change. That's why a horse might be frightened by a new white hat, but not a familiar black one—or might panic at the sight of a common object like a wheelbarrow in an unusual place or seen from a different angle. Temple could tell when a horse was starting to get nervous: a fearful horse swishes his tail, and the swishing becomes more rapid with mounting fear. But because Temple also noticed the same details the horses did—like a bale of hay slightly out of place—she could make small changes to calm the animal's fear before it turned to panic.

(4) Temple spent much of her time in the horse barn. She cleaned the stalls. She refilled the feed bins. She cleaned the leather bridles and saddles and other equipment, making repairs if needed. When the farrier came to hammer new shoes onto the horses' hooves, she held the reins and kept the horses calm.

(5) Back at home, Temple's mother wished her daughter would study harder and get better grades instead of riding horses and mending bridles. But Temple was proud that she now had an important, responsible job in the barn. The welfare of nine horses depended largely on her care. To Temple, her academic classes didn't seem to matter half as much. They were “boring, boring, boring.”

(6) Soon she began to find it impossible to concentrate on schoolwork anyway. Now in high school, she felt that something new and terrible was happening to her. Her body was changing. The rush of new chemicals her body was producing to change her into a young woman threw Temple's unusual brain into overdrive. She started having panic attacks.