On Beginning Kindergarten: Notes from a Special Needs Mom
So, this is how it happens: I wake up in the morning, and I have an idea for a post about inclusion.
I’ve really been thinking about it a lot lately, and I just feel the need to communicate my thoughts and observations on the subject as we approach the new school year that’s upon us. I think about all the things I want to include in my post about how inclusion is so important to me as a Mom of a child with special needs. I want to beg people to teach their children about being a welcoming and curious friend, because there are kids out there they will encounter who will be different from them in a profound way, but who are also kids who are valuable and need friends, too. Differences come in all shapes, sizes, and senses. Some kids are loud, and some are quiet. They have different preferences. Some kids learn differently, move differently, and behave differently than most of their peers— but they still understand the world going on around them. They see their own differences. They feel them, too. But, they’re still really fun friends! And I want to remind my parent friends to help their children learn that it’s okay to ask about the differences in people. To tell them, urge them, “Go, be friends with that child! He is so interesting!” I want to say that it’s more helpful to be asked about my child’s differences — and how best to accommodate him for the sake of participating in social activities — than to ignore those differences, or assume that I always want them to be treated “just like everybody else.” He’s not just like everybody else. But he wants to be.
And then, I experience the rest of the day as a Mom of a kid with special needs. It’s very “extra.” I drive to the extra therapy appointments that are necessary for his progress. Speech. Physical. Occupational. Aqua. Behavioral. I schedule the extra doctors’ appointments, and then I schlep my kid to those extra doctors’ appointments, and then I take what extra information is given at that particular doctor’s appointment to help with his current condition, and I make extra mental notes of how to properly incorporate that information into our lives — and usually, it also means scheduling more appointments. I deal with the extra behaviors. The ones that can be loud, or embarrassing, or poorly reflective of your well-intentioned-and-educationally-informed parenting. The extra looks and stares from other curious people. Sometimes it’s nice, because he’s so cute and he makes people smile. It’s pretty obvious how hard he works to get around, so some friendly folks are extra friendly. Sometimes, though, it’s not so nice.
There are good “extras” and bad “extras,” I suppose.
It isn’t always that bad. But sometimes — not too infrequently — it is.
It is exhausting. It is physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausting.
So, at the end of the day, I can’t bring myself to write out that original idea, even though it’s the main thing I want to say. I want my kids’ lives to be enriched by having friends who understand and love them for who they are right now. It doesn’t come so easily for all kids.
And it doesn’t come easily for us, either: the parents of kids with special needs. It’s a lot of work. It’s hard. It’s tiring. And, just like our extra special little people, we need good friends too. So when you’re dutifully teaching your kids about inclusion, and about being good friends to different kinds of kids, make an extra mental note to check in on us sometimes, too.
Being a parent of a child with special needs is surely hard. It can also be very isolating. Ask us if we want help, or ask how you can help. Get us out of the house sometimes. Ask for a playdate. Let us talk. Stand nearby us for a few extra minutes on the playground. Just shoot us a text to say hi.
Include us, too.
