12-27-2004, 04:42 PM
http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/natio...nworld-hed
Law sends autistic man packing
Expired visa ends life with U.S. family
By Elizabeth Williamson
The Washington Post
Published December 27, 2004
WASHINGTON -- Chris Takaishi devoured food-court sushi at a mall in Bethesda, Md., one recent afternoon, then walked, robotlike, to his car.
He hopped into his car and headed down a road fringed with birches, peering through the windshield at cloudless blue.
"When I see the sky," he said, "I think I will miss this country."
Tadakatsu Takaishi, as he was known then, came to the United States from Japan in 1989, a 15-year-old boy sent to military school by parents who thought he simply lacked discipline. In fact, those who know him say now, he had autism.
Takaishi proved a survivor, learning English, earning a college degree and finding a job.
He built a life, and at its center was Herb Stutts, a longtime American University dean who treated Takaishi like a son. Then this year, Takaishi's student visa ran out. So came his toughest lesson: Sometimes, hard work doesn't change things.
Stutts, who helped Takaishi get a job in Maryland, said that after the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services requirements for a visa "are a backbreaker, especially for someone like Chris."
On Monday, after one last holiday with the Stutts family, Takaishi, 31, plans to leave his American life, bound for an uncertain future in Japan.
Takaishi, who has rented a room in a suburban house for the past 10 years, is a compactly built man who speaks elegant English in a mechanical staccato. During the last 15 years, people began calling him Chris, though he doesn't recall when. He speaks in bullet points, relaying an encyclopedic knowledge of cars, politics and, now, immigration law.
In the Stutts family's living room this month, he outlined Mexican President Vicente Fox's recipe for immigrant success. "One: He or she must not quit. Two: He or she must have a goal. Three: Even if he or she faces great difficulty, he or she must accomplish his or her goal."
When he gets emotional, Takaishi squeezes his eyes tight. Losing the battle this time, he wiped them fiercely.
Strange, new land
Takaishi's memories in the United States begin at Oak Ridge Military Academy in North Carolina, where he was sent by his parents, owners of a Tokyo-based newspaper, after failing Japan's high school entrance exams. He knew barely a word of English upon his arrival.
After three years at Oak Ridge, Takaishi was still in ninth grade. Herb Stutts got a call from a friend who insured international students. Stutts had retired from American University two years earlier and founded a business assisting students in their adjustment to academic life.
Stutts arrived in North Carolina to find a quiet, well-dressed boy. Though Takaishi refused to make eye contact, Stutts recalled, he noticed the teenager was squinting.
He took Takaishi to an optometrist, who diagnosed severe nearsightedness. It was the first of many difficulties Stutts noticed in Takaishi, who did not like being touched and rarely laughed, except in a movie theater, where he guffawed uproariously at cartoons.
"He had the social skills of a 7-year-old," recalled Stutts, 75. "But he never cut a class, never lied. ... He would not give up. He was everything you'd want out of a young man."
Stutts enrolled Takaishi in an English language program in Maryland and noticed that, if material were presented in clear steps, Takaishi could learn it.
It took three tries, but in 1994, Takaishi passed the test for his high school diploma.
Another mentor
Stutts then helped Takaishi enroll at Montgomery College for an associate's degree. At the school, professor Bill Patterson noted his new charge's withdrawn behavior and focus on tasks rather than relationships.
"When I met him, I wasn't sure if it was cultural stuff or what," Patterson said. "But I have a grandson who is autistic, and I saw some of the same things. Chris is a very bright guy and a really nice kid. His brain's just not wired the same way other people's brains are."
Patterson helped his student overcome a fear of computers by showing him how to look up statistics about cars on the Internet. After getting his associate's degree, Takaishi enrolled in the management information systems curriculum at the University of Maryland's University College. He graduated in 2003, with a 3.2 grade-point average.
Takaishi's parents, who live outside Tokyo, did not attend his graduations. His father and sister traveled to the United States in 2000, but Stutts did not meet them. The family does not speak English and communicates with Stutts through a neighbor in Japan whom Chris recommended, Jimmy Abe.
With Abe acting as interpreter, Matafumi Takaishi said last week that he now realizes his son has had a developmental disability since childhood.
"Now [Chris] is an adult, and we are leaving up to him to make his own decisions," he said of his only son.
Matafumi Takaishi said he plans for his adult daughter to live with Chris in downtown Tokyo.
One day last week, Takaishi passed by the family's Christmas tree and patted the toy reindeer beneath it. "Stay," he said, "until I return to this house."
"Love hasn't been in his vocabulary," said Stutts, who had considered adopting Takaishi. "Only since he's going home has he hugged me."
Copyright © 2004, Chicago Tribune
Law sends autistic man packing
Expired visa ends life with U.S. family
By Elizabeth Williamson
The Washington Post
Published December 27, 2004
WASHINGTON -- Chris Takaishi devoured food-court sushi at a mall in Bethesda, Md., one recent afternoon, then walked, robotlike, to his car.
He hopped into his car and headed down a road fringed with birches, peering through the windshield at cloudless blue.
"When I see the sky," he said, "I think I will miss this country."
Tadakatsu Takaishi, as he was known then, came to the United States from Japan in 1989, a 15-year-old boy sent to military school by parents who thought he simply lacked discipline. In fact, those who know him say now, he had autism.
Takaishi proved a survivor, learning English, earning a college degree and finding a job.
He built a life, and at its center was Herb Stutts, a longtime American University dean who treated Takaishi like a son. Then this year, Takaishi's student visa ran out. So came his toughest lesson: Sometimes, hard work doesn't change things.
Stutts, who helped Takaishi get a job in Maryland, said that after the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services requirements for a visa "are a backbreaker, especially for someone like Chris."
On Monday, after one last holiday with the Stutts family, Takaishi, 31, plans to leave his American life, bound for an uncertain future in Japan.
Takaishi, who has rented a room in a suburban house for the past 10 years, is a compactly built man who speaks elegant English in a mechanical staccato. During the last 15 years, people began calling him Chris, though he doesn't recall when. He speaks in bullet points, relaying an encyclopedic knowledge of cars, politics and, now, immigration law.
In the Stutts family's living room this month, he outlined Mexican President Vicente Fox's recipe for immigrant success. "One: He or she must not quit. Two: He or she must have a goal. Three: Even if he or she faces great difficulty, he or she must accomplish his or her goal."
When he gets emotional, Takaishi squeezes his eyes tight. Losing the battle this time, he wiped them fiercely.
Strange, new land
Takaishi's memories in the United States begin at Oak Ridge Military Academy in North Carolina, where he was sent by his parents, owners of a Tokyo-based newspaper, after failing Japan's high school entrance exams. He knew barely a word of English upon his arrival.
After three years at Oak Ridge, Takaishi was still in ninth grade. Herb Stutts got a call from a friend who insured international students. Stutts had retired from American University two years earlier and founded a business assisting students in their adjustment to academic life.
Stutts arrived in North Carolina to find a quiet, well-dressed boy. Though Takaishi refused to make eye contact, Stutts recalled, he noticed the teenager was squinting.
He took Takaishi to an optometrist, who diagnosed severe nearsightedness. It was the first of many difficulties Stutts noticed in Takaishi, who did not like being touched and rarely laughed, except in a movie theater, where he guffawed uproariously at cartoons.
"He had the social skills of a 7-year-old," recalled Stutts, 75. "But he never cut a class, never lied. ... He would not give up. He was everything you'd want out of a young man."
Stutts enrolled Takaishi in an English language program in Maryland and noticed that, if material were presented in clear steps, Takaishi could learn it.
It took three tries, but in 1994, Takaishi passed the test for his high school diploma.
Another mentor
Stutts then helped Takaishi enroll at Montgomery College for an associate's degree. At the school, professor Bill Patterson noted his new charge's withdrawn behavior and focus on tasks rather than relationships.
"When I met him, I wasn't sure if it was cultural stuff or what," Patterson said. "But I have a grandson who is autistic, and I saw some of the same things. Chris is a very bright guy and a really nice kid. His brain's just not wired the same way other people's brains are."
Patterson helped his student overcome a fear of computers by showing him how to look up statistics about cars on the Internet. After getting his associate's degree, Takaishi enrolled in the management information systems curriculum at the University of Maryland's University College. He graduated in 2003, with a 3.2 grade-point average.
Takaishi's parents, who live outside Tokyo, did not attend his graduations. His father and sister traveled to the United States in 2000, but Stutts did not meet them. The family does not speak English and communicates with Stutts through a neighbor in Japan whom Chris recommended, Jimmy Abe.
With Abe acting as interpreter, Matafumi Takaishi said last week that he now realizes his son has had a developmental disability since childhood.
"Now [Chris] is an adult, and we are leaving up to him to make his own decisions," he said of his only son.
Matafumi Takaishi said he plans for his adult daughter to live with Chris in downtown Tokyo.
One day last week, Takaishi passed by the family's Christmas tree and patted the toy reindeer beneath it. "Stay," he said, "until I return to this house."
"Love hasn't been in his vocabulary," said Stutts, who had considered adopting Takaishi. "Only since he's going home has he hugged me."
Copyright © 2004, Chicago Tribune
Stella