"I don't think things are the same as they used to be," said a friend, as we were discussing the ups and downs of our quirky kids in "inclusion" environments.
We took a moment to consider that statement. In our childhoods, it "used to be" that there were weird kids among us, but very few were actually diagnosed with anything. Some of them disappeared to attend another school at some point. I imagine they were really struggling academically and socially, and the lucky ones weren't exposed to bullies. (Bullying still happens, but at least schools attempt to take more proactive responsibility for it these days.) Nobody ever really talked about it.
Some children with more obvious or severe challenges were self-contained in the special education or "resource" rooms, and those of us in the mainstream had very little - if any - interaction with them. There was that developmentally disabled girl who joined my group at camp. We weren't particularly mean to her, but we weren't nice either. Mostly we just didn't pay much attention to her. She couldn't communicate very well on her own, and the counselors showed no interest or skill in facilitating.
But then something happened that I couldn't ignore. I have recalled this defining moment many times over the years, especially now that I can picture my and my friends' children in the exact same scenario.
Joe (*name changed) spent his days in the "sped" classroom. Back then, I had no idea that SpEd was an unfortunate abbreviation for special education, and clearly never took a second to consider what it meant. This classroom was at the very end of the school hallway, near the back door. Perhaps it was strategically placed there for easy accessibility, but I'm not so confident. Ironically and cruelly, it was right next door to the gifted program classroom, where I had a couple of classes myself (another unsolved mystery).
I can't remember how I knew Joe or his name - maybe he was on my bus or maybe he introduced himself to me as we passed each other in that low-traffic hall - but I smiled and nodded at him each time he passed. Why not? He was harmless, and it made me feel good. I never gave him a second thought.
Until one day, Joe approached me at my locker. I'm pretty sure I was flanked by one or two chatty girlfriends, but Joe didn't even pause. He just marched right up and ASKED ME TO THE SCHOOL DANCE. I was floored. I have no idea whether he could identify facial expressions, but I'm sure mine was not too hard to read: shock and awe. Here's why:
My parents said I should have gone to the dance with Joe...but I absolutely did not have the self-esteem to pull that off. It wasn't just that I thought it would mar my high school "reputation" and standing, but I had no idea what I would talk to him about all evening. Did we have common interests? Without inclusion opportunities, we would never know. I barely knew him. And if a few smiles gave him the impression that we knew each other well enough to go to a dance, what would it mean to him if we actually went to this dance?
You might be under the impression that I regret my decision, but I don't. Not exactly. I did the best I could under the circumstances. Sadly, I don't even know if asking me out was easy for Joe or something that took him preparation and courage. Did Joe's parents know what happened? Were they proud of Joe's social awareness and self-insertion into mainstream, high school culture or horrified? Do you think Joe's mother would have wanted me to say yes - even though it would have been completely and only out of pity and "charity?"
Back to 2012, and my friend's comment: "I don't think things are the same as they used to be."
Do you?
We took a moment to consider that statement. In our childhoods, it "used to be" that there were weird kids among us, but very few were actually diagnosed with anything. Some of them disappeared to attend another school at some point. I imagine they were really struggling academically and socially, and the lucky ones weren't exposed to bullies. (Bullying still happens, but at least schools attempt to take more proactive responsibility for it these days.) Nobody ever really talked about it.
Some children with more obvious or severe challenges were self-contained in the special education or "resource" rooms, and those of us in the mainstream had very little - if any - interaction with them. There was that developmentally disabled girl who joined my group at camp. We weren't particularly mean to her, but we weren't nice either. Mostly we just didn't pay much attention to her. She couldn't communicate very well on her own, and the counselors showed no interest or skill in facilitating.But then something happened that I couldn't ignore. I have recalled this defining moment many times over the years, especially now that I can picture my and my friends' children in the exact same scenario.
Joe (*name changed) spent his days in the "sped" classroom. Back then, I had no idea that SpEd was an unfortunate abbreviation for special education, and clearly never took a second to consider what it meant. This classroom was at the very end of the school hallway, near the back door. Perhaps it was strategically placed there for easy accessibility, but I'm not so confident. Ironically and cruelly, it was right next door to the gifted program classroom, where I had a couple of classes myself (another unsolved mystery).
I can't remember how I knew Joe or his name - maybe he was on my bus or maybe he introduced himself to me as we passed each other in that low-traffic hall - but I smiled and nodded at him each time he passed. Why not? He was harmless, and it made me feel good. I never gave him a second thought.
Until one day, Joe approached me at my locker. I'm pretty sure I was flanked by one or two chatty girlfriends, but Joe didn't even pause. He just marched right up and ASKED ME TO THE SCHOOL DANCE. I was floored. I have no idea whether he could identify facial expressions, but I'm sure mine was not too hard to read: shock and awe. Here's why:
- For starters, this was already the longest "conversation" we've ever had.
- I was a high school girl. Being asked to a dance by anyone is thrilling. But this guy?
- I always thought I was a nice person, but I am so not going to do this.
- Maybe I'm not such a nice person after all.
My parents said I should have gone to the dance with Joe...but I absolutely did not have the self-esteem to pull that off. It wasn't just that I thought it would mar my high school "reputation" and standing, but I had no idea what I would talk to him about all evening. Did we have common interests? Without inclusion opportunities, we would never know. I barely knew him. And if a few smiles gave him the impression that we knew each other well enough to go to a dance, what would it mean to him if we actually went to this dance?
You might be under the impression that I regret my decision, but I don't. Not exactly. I did the best I could under the circumstances. Sadly, I don't even know if asking me out was easy for Joe or something that took him preparation and courage. Did Joe's parents know what happened? Were they proud of Joe's social awareness and self-insertion into mainstream, high school culture or horrified? Do you think Joe's mother would have wanted me to say yes - even though it would have been completely and only out of pity and "charity?"Back to 2012, and my friend's comment: "I don't think things are the same as they used to be."
Do you?
Following via email and GFC !
ReplyDeletehttp://divasfashionvault.blogspot.com/
i think its exactly the same :(
ReplyDeleteMy (NT) daughter is Joe. Constantly shut down. She'll even go to the dances alone, and ask boys to dance, yet they're brave enough to tell her to her face- no.
I think things are very much the same, if not worse. Kids still have no empathy nor manners... she's sworn off dances. That makes me sad :(
I'm not sure if things are the same or not. I would hazard to guess they are more similar than not. Thing is, you did what you thought was best at the time for you. You weren't being mean or malicious. You just didn't know. Hindsight is 20/20, isn't it?
ReplyDeleteI don't think things would go any differently now. If anything, kids probably judge others more b/c of inclusion and getting to see them "in their glory". Seriously, back in the day the "sped" kids were a mystery to us. We knew they had issues, but didn't really know what, no idea how they behaved, none of it. We would turn them down based on NOT knowing, like you said. Now...kids would be turned down b/c others DO know, and I am not sure that is better. It's probably worse b/c even with knowledge, typical kids just don't care. Heck, they bully the crap out of EACH OTHER, let alone someone with REAL differences. It won't ever get better until we find out how to breed people that get it at a much younger age...I am not hopeful.
ReplyDelete