The kids had their annual day last Friday. It went well all things considered. The programme started on time and finished on time. The chief guest came on time and was someone I have long admired so I enjoyed hearing him speak. Our kids behaved well and did not throw any tantrums and remained more or less quietly backstage till it was time for them to perform.
I was uncomfortable though – because the truth which I go to great lengths to hide from myself is becoming more apparent with each passing day. The fact hurts me much less now than it did four years ago but it still hurts all the same. My son is not like the other kids. That’s the truth and there is no way out of it. It is not a good thing but neither is it bad. He is extremely intelligent and very cute as well. He loves with a heart as big as the whole world. He can solve puzzles in a trice and is a computer whiz at seven years of age. He is also wrapped up in his world or at least a world that seems to barely overlap mine most of the time. He used to be mine when he was very young and then he left to follow some other vision. He loves to be treated like a much younger child. He doesn’t want to grow up.
At the annual day, they made him give a bouquet to an important guest. All the ‘special’ children were made to do that – so it killed me on the inside to see my child alongside them. I hate the word special. He does not have any mannerisms or features that make him look different – only his partial presence and therefore lack of focus in this world causes him to be labeled as such. He then got an award for “best attempt at adaptation to a classroom environment” which means he has finally learnt to sit still for 20 minute stretches and is therefore allowed in the mainstream classroom. I think it’s great he got the award but the way the teachers were leading him and holding his hands together and turning his head for him made him look like he could barely go and take the certificate by himself when he is normally very self-reliant!! I don’t know whether to applaud the teachers for their over-zealousness or wring my hands in agony that they seem so eager to slot him that they give him no chance to be himself.
Then he had a bit part in the play (which he very cutely screwed up so innocently that it had me laughing loudly) and then in a group dance. I was amazed at the way he actually stood in his place and managed to match everyone’s steps. I wanted to cry so badly there in that hall seeing my son jump up and laugh and clap and shake his little butt. How his teachers managed to get him to be interested in the steps is something I cannot begin to guess at. Anyway he had a good time and we were relieved and happy as well.
The little one performed as well. She was a class act. Every step of her dance she executed with skill and grace though she was the smallest kid in the group. I felt pride lift me up off the chair by a couple of inches at least!! When I got home, I started thinking about why her achievement should be more laudable than his – she always liked to dance – he never was so inclined – from being unable to stand still for a few minutes even, he managed to dance through a whole song and that too in time with others. So while she is much younger and really talented, the amount of effort my son put in must have been tremendous. And I in my narrow-minded spirit failed to see that. I saw his awkward steps and didn’t see his joy. I saw him as part of a group that is normally looked down on and was ashamed to be associated with him. I worried that others would pity me as his mother. It is easy to love a child who is all you imagine. It is more important, however, to love more the one who needs a hand every step of the way he needs to tread to reach his personal goals. If a mother fails to see that, she can be no better than the majority who deride and ridicule someone for being different. So I will stand up for him and cheer the loudest every time he gets a prize or reaches even the smallest milestone. I will applaud the loudest for his every step and will pray the hardest. And one day he will leave his other world and come back to me….
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