Six children sit on tiny wooden chairs at the front of the classroom. They wear royal blue mortarboards with gold tassels on their heads and white papery robes. Their families sit behind them, marveling that these children – their children – are sitting quietly and, for the most part, still. Their teacher, Emily Davenport, stands beside a television screen and cries soundlessly as pictures of her class flash before us.

Here is Jordan in her pink winter coat, eating an icicle. Here is Chester, wearing a black bat Halloween costume, hamming it up for the camera. And Cameron playing with shaving cream and colored paper. Here is Aaron petting a llama. And Nicholas and Carl wrestling on the carpet. Here the children crawl through a tube, do somersaults, learn how to ride a bike.

Though this could be any preschool graduation, it isn’t. These kids are different. They all have been diagnosed with autism. So the fact that these children sit in their chairs and point at themselves on the screen is a small miracle. Sitting there under an arch of blue balloons and a sign that reads Class of 2001, they look like any other 4- and 5-year-old children.

But this is the end of the school year. They have been in the United Cerebral Palsy Bridges Preschool for at least 12 months now, some since they were diagnosed. Some of these same children, 12 months ago, could do none of this. They could not say hello or goodbye, sit still, listen, connect.

Some of these same children that we see hugging and holding hands in the slides could not hug their mother or father or even make eye contact with them last September. But for a year, they have received the loving attention of their teacher, one-to-one aides, teacher aides, speech therapist, physical therapist, occupational therapist, and Dr. Tim Rogers, the consulting psychologist.

They have been taught colors, numbers, self-care, language, motor and social skills. What’s more, they have shown that they can transfer this knowledge and these skills outside the classroom through discrete trials, or applied behavior analysis. Each family will leave with a scrapbook made for them by the staff. Photos, works of art, favorite things, special memories have been preserved. I see one mother flip through it, tears in her eyes.

The slide show is over. The guests watch as the children do their circle songs. They know when to clap and stomp and say “Hooray!” After the closing song, Emily says goodbye to each child and waits until each child in turn looks her in the eye and says “Goodbye, Emily.” They walk off with their school bags and scrap books with their moms and dads, holding hands.

Lynn Boulger is UCP development director in Bangor.