From the Orlando Sentinel in Florida:Nineteen-year-old Peter Becht (pictured) draws a deep, yogalike breath and the lets the air escape slowly, taking the tension with it. It's a little trick his mother taught him to use whenever raw emotions seem too big.
Then he whispers to himself, "I can do this. I can do this."
He does that a lot these days, the deep breathing and the self-talk, for life is crowded with demands: his senior year of high school, band practice, a job in the afternoons, volunteer work, church and Scouting. Especially Scouting.
The boy who couldn't write his own name until the second grade, who couldn't tie his shoes until he was 11, the boy with Down syndrome, is now a young man earning the highest rank a Scout can: Eagle. Today in a Winter Park church, 100 people will gather to celebrate the achievement.
"I'll be crying," he predicts. "But I'll just keep breathing. And then Mom will probably come and give me a hug."
Among the well-wishers will be former teachers and principals, fellow Scouts, friends and family. Most learned long ago that you shouldn't underestimate him.
"Down syndrome doesn't mean I'm stupid," he will tell you. "It means it takes me longer to learn the same things you do."
It could be a mantra for his generation.
Children with Down syndrome, a chromosomal abnormality, were once locked in institutions, their frequent heart problems and ear infections left untreated. Some were forced to undergo sterilization — if they lived long enough. Many died in infancy.
It wasn't until the early 1960s when parents began to rebel.
"I think Peter's generation is the first to grow up in a time when parents finally said, 'These are our kids, and we're not sending them away to an institution. If you don't like them, you can go away,'" said Camille Gardiner, who serves on the board of the Down Syndrome Association of Central Florida and has a 6-year-old son with the disorder.
Manifestations can be vastly different in different people, and mental retardation can range from mild to severe. But research shows that IQ scores for people Down syndrome have increased by 20 points, on average, during the past 15 years, largely as a result of early education, inclusion in mainstream classrooms and proper medical treatment.
"I'm in my 40s, and back when I was in school, they didn't even teach kids with Down syndrome to read," said Amy Van Bergen, executive director of the local Down Syndrome Association. "Teachers didn't think they could read. Now, I've got five families with kids working toward a college diploma."
It doesn't mean all of them — or any of them — will get there. But at least they have the opportunity to try.
Which is all Peter Becht's parents ever wanted for their son.
Kathy Becht, Peter's mom, can still picture her baby boy struggling at age 13 months to keep his head raised. He couldn't even sit up. He had spent much of his first year in and out of hospitals with heart problems.
But from the beginning, she looked at Peter as a blessing. It helped that she was a special-education teacher.
"I have a younger sister who has some serious cognitive disabilities," she said. "So I grew up with disabilities being a normal part of the human condition."
She and her husband, Sheridan Becht, who had worked during high school at a camp for kids with muscular dystrophy, decided to focus on their son's gifts, not his challenges.
"We discovered he had a great sense of humor," she said. "And we kept reminding him of that: Peter, God gave you that. You have to use that gift to help others."
As it turned out, he also had natural leadership abilities. He loved being in the spotlight and trying anything anyone else did. In Scouting, he learned to swim across lakes and rappel down rocky cliffs and ride horses. In school, he explored theater and music. His skills on the drums are so impressive that his teacher is trying to organize a band.
Two years ago, Becht became the first person to serve on the board of the local Down syndrome association to actually have Down syndrome.
"He has such a great heart and a lot of ambition," Gardiner said. "He's a great inspiration — and he helps us remember why we're all there."
For his Eagle Scout community-service project, he raised money and organized the creation of a playground at the Down syndrome association headquarters. He led a crew of fellow Scouts and friends to put up fences, move gutters, plant landscaping, assemble playground equipment and paint a mural.
"Being on the board is the most exciting thing ever," he said. Except, that is, when it's not.
One evening, Becht walked out midmeeting and called his mom.
"This is taking waaay too long," he told her. "Can you come pick me up?"
"You're as bored as the rest of them, Pete," she replied. "You've got to stick it out."
His Scout leaders didn't cut him much slack, either. He earned not only the requisite 21 badges, but an extra three to boot. He ran three miles for his fitness challenge, learned to chop wood and build a fire and pitch his own tent and hike mountains in Colorado. He gave speeches on what it was like to have a disability.
"No requirements were discounted or waived for Peter," said John Jennings, one of Troop 62's leaders. He did win Becht an extension from the usual age-18 limit to complete the program because he was still a student at Winter Park High School. Given the young man's slow start in life, it seemed a small consideration. After all, only 4 percent of all Scouts ever make to the Eagle rank.
"Peter has been an inspiration," Jennings said. "Never give up on your dream."
