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The old, elegantly restored Oquirrh School is calm in the early morning, right up to the moment when a gaggle of tiny children arrive, some of them boisterous, others quiet.

This is the Children's Center in downtown Salt Lake City, where kids come to receive counseling and treatment for autism spectrum disorders, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, trauma or sexual or physical abuse. It's a family affair, with parents joining their children in the months-long process that in most cases leads to a restoration of health and trust.

In this year's Legislature, though, the center did not receive its requested $250,000 grant. With a $4 million annual budget, the center will have to raise $1.25 million to provide nearly 1,800 families the services they need.

Douglas Goldsmith has worked at the Children's Center since he started as an intern in the early 1980s. Now armed with a doctorate in psychology, he's the center's executive director, leading a staff of about 90 people.

He's also a fundraiser who tells people with health insurance that, if their child has autism, ADHD or oppositional defiance disorder, the policy won't cover treatment. That could leave a family with a $1,000 monthly bill for Children's Center services, which can last several months.

But the center, Goldsmith says, believes it's "unconscionable to say to a family, 'Well, you can't get help here.' Families with Medicaid are covered, but "the working poor — and this is a huge issue in mental health — are really struggling."

It may be a mother who's gotten off welfare and has a job, but whose child is so aggressively out of control that the day care center can't keep him.

That's where all that fundraising and grant applications come in. That mother, and families with similar problems, can get services on a sliding scale of payment, and most families pay just $40 a month.

This is also a time in which the prevalence of autism spectrum disorders is growing at an alarming rate. In the early 1980s, it would affect 2.5 children in 10,000 births. Today, it's one in 90 births, Goldsmith says.

But why? He says research on maternal umbilical blood has found evidence of 200 toxic substances, 100 of which affect the nervous system. Given the post-World War II proliferation of chemicals, many of which have been banned but still exist, the buildup of neurotoxins could be a big part of the problem.

Same with food sources such as fruits and vegetables treated with pesticides, as well as mercury and lead pollution, Goldsmith says.

As for physical or psychological abuse, he says many traumatized preschool children have been exposed to serious domestic violence. Some have seen a parent shot. Some have parents with grave emotional problems, and some deal with traumatic bereavement after the sudden death of a parent. Some are neglected or physically abused.

"Sadly, our children have not only one, but an average of two and a half traumas," Goldsmith says.

On Friday, the preschool kids arrived at 9 a.m. and were led to spacious classrooms. In one, two women read to the students and let them put together puzzles as sunlight streamed through the windows.

Children helped at such a young age have a much better chance of graduating from high school, going to college, staying married and have a good relationship with their own children, says Courtney Garay, the center's development and communications director.

For those who work for the children and their families, positive outcomes keep them going. Goldsmith and all the staff know they'll make a difference, and that nearly all those families will get better.

"The positive outcomes keep us going," he says.

Peg McEntee is a news columnist. Reach her at pegmcentee@sltrib.com, facebook.com/pegmcentee and Twitter: @pegmcentee.