There was a moment during the workshop when the room went completely silent.
It wasn’t the kind of silence that comes with disengagement – it was the kind that holds anticipation. A boy named Isaac, who uses a wheelchair and communicates through an Augmentative and Alternative Communication (AAC) device, wanted to share something.
He had just completed his cyanotype print with the help of his teacher and a volunteer from Singapore Land Group, who were on their second year of CSR engagement with the students of Cerebral Palsy Alliance Singapore (CPAS) School East.
As the sharing session began, different students took turns presenting their artwork in their own unique ways. Some spoke and a few used devices like Isaac’s. We celebrated each form of communication.
Isaac, moved by the energy in the room, signaled that he wanted to share too. He wasn’t assigned a turn – he volunteered. He wanted so much to “speak.”
The room turned its attention to him. His teacher placed a microphone at the speaker of his AAC device. And the first line that came through was: “Isaac is happy.”
This message, first spoken by his device, was then gently echoed by his teacher so everyone could hear.
Isaac’s artwork was held up high by his helper. He beamed, clearly wanting to hold it on his own. The pride was unmistakable.
Our facilitator asked, “Is there someone you’d like to give this artwork to?”
Then came the long pause. Isaac, struggling with the precise, intentional movement needed to operate his AAC, worked with incredible focus. About one minute passed. Everyone waited.
Finally, his response emerged:
“I’m going to give this to my daddy.”
The room erupted in cheers.
This kind of moment doesn’t happen by chance. It’s gently cultivated.
At Co:Creation Workshop, we don’t drop volunteers into unfamiliar spaces and hope they figure it out. We scaffold their experience.
Before our cyanotype workshop at CPAS, we guided volunteers from Singapore Land Group through a mindful check-in process. We asked them to reflect on their intention, to consider the kind of energy they were bringing, and to prepare to engage with empathy.
We reminded them: silence isn’t something to fill. It’s something to hold.
Our lead facilitator also shared principles of creative engagement when working with persons with cerebral palsy. This foundation helped volunteers enter the space with patience and awareness.
At the end of the workshop — once the students had left and the room was quieter — we gathered the volunteers for a final reflection.
As part of this closing activity, each volunteer wrote a note on the back of the frame that held the student’s cyanotype print. It was a gesture of encouragement, recognition, and connection. Some wrote what they observed. Others left messages of strength. All of it added meaning to what had just been experienced.
This wasn’t just about making art. It was about meaning-making for the volunteers too — helping them reflect on their place in the world, the role of work in life, and how volunteering can bring wholeness to team culture.
Many CSR programs come with good intentions. But good intentions without experience can create unintended burdens.
Social service organisations like CPAS often find themselves picking up the pieces when corporate groups arrive without real strategies for inclusive engagement. The teachers, support staff, and caregivers of students with cerebral palsy already carry immense responsibility. Programs that are poorly planned can unintentionally increase their load, rather than alleviate it.
That’s why respite matters. Teachers and caregivers deserve to be included, supported, and considered. Their labor shouldn’t be invisible or taken for granted.
If your organisation is planning a CSR initiative and wants to create real inclusion through the arts, talk to us.
