This is what I know.
Some days your kid can seem as ordinary as oatmeal. Just another kid. Full of giggles and grit.
And other days it feels like he's the only dandelion in a bed of begonias.
Odd.
Different.
Amazingly so.
I gave my intro counselor lesson in Elias's second grade classroom today.
I arrived with my tool belt and a bag of mystery items that represent my role as a school counselor. The kids all gathered around.
Elias's teacher asked him to sit in the front of the carpet.
When he wobbled to his spot and plopped too close to the girl next to him, I caught the look on her face. The way she leaned away from him towards her friend. The roll of her eyes.
He is not one of them.
From my mostly purple cloth bag, I pulled out my bunny ears for listening, my two wooden hearts tied together to show that everyone deserves someone who cares about them, my remote control to give children more power over their lives, my fireman's hat, my whistle, my easy button, my heart box...
After my lesson, the children earned free choice time, and while most of the kids knew what they wanted to play, and quickly formed groups of companions, Elias wandered the classroom alone.
His teacher and Aide prompted him but he didn't interact with any of the other students.
Before I left, he'd settled at a table, with his Aide by his side; the girl across from him stacked small plastic counting cubes, while he pushed the same little squares around in a heap.
When I walked out of his classroom, all I wanted to do was close myself in my office and cry.
Sometimes it just sucks.
This I know.
Sometimes you want to change him. You want him to be like other kids.
Or you want to scoop him up and carry him away from the others.
You don't want him to be the other.
The kid in the classroom that everyone tolerates but no one likes.
No one picks to play.
No one understands.
You want to hold your little boy and never let go.
But instead I walked into the main office to find a student waiting for me, the same student who stood behind Elias last year and said, "You better not make me late for lunch!"
Deep breath.
Push those tears away.
Take off my Mama hat and put on my elementary school counselor cloak where all children are good even if they disrespect my son.
Even if they don't understand.
Where all kids are wanted.
And even dandelions belong.
Elias, June 2004
Oh, Christy, I know exactly how you feel when I have gone in to volunteer at school and experienced the dandelion effect. All you want to do is make a wish and blow on it. I know the emotional pain that is so raw that it burns through your body. You push down, 'why my child' then 'why me'. The world oblivious to the crush on your soul. I wish I could say something that would heal the hurt in your heart other than I know how you feel. I do think of how dandelions add brightness and color to ordinary grass even if not the choice.
Posted by: Kimberly | 09/01/2011 at 08:41 AM
I know that feeling too.
my dd is so excited that ballet classes start next week. I'm not. She is staying in the same level while all the other kids moved up, she was already years older than everybody else. Ballet classes are one of the places where all the time I see what the other kids can do and my dd can't even though she is making progress, has fabulous teachers and she loves to dance. I often come home on ballet days wanting to cry.
Posted by: se | 09/01/2011 at 11:34 AM
I know that crushing feeling. I feel it for my own daughter. She is for medical purpose a "normal" kid, but she is tiny and slower to move then the others. She sometimes get left out because she just can't keep up. She also doesn't have any older siblings to show her what is currently "cool" so she sometimes doesn't know how to talk about the "in" show. My heart breaks every time I see her left out. My (her) school counselor told me she watches her and think she is a cool kid who is an individual which I am VERY okay with, but I want to make sure that Lorelei feels that way too!
I feel the crush even more so for my students. My heart breaks every time I see them laughing with kids who they think are laughing with them, but are really laughing AT them. I am the BIGGEST mama bear when it comes to them. I stop even the eye rolling type of nonchalant bullying in it's track. Even the other teachers know that while they are free to discipline my students they better not "mess" with them or express in ANY way that they do not want them.
The wrath of a special ed teacher is as bad as that of a mothers :)
Posted by: Jessica | 09/01/2011 at 03:25 PM
Heartbreaking. Struggling on what to write to you but mostly it is how you always have this way of making your posts both universal and totally specific to your own kids and situation. went to an open house at our kids' new school tonight and were grasping at straws in hope that this year would be a better year for our oldest child who had such an awful year last year with bullies that seems to have left us all reeling and super sensitive to any threats real or imagined. he seems to have a friend so cautiously optimistic. i'm hoping elias can find that one best buddy too.
Posted by: Kate | 09/01/2011 at 06:57 PM
I am keeping my fingers crossed that Elias finds that one special friend and the he can also BE that one special friend to someone---accepting, loving, a pal. It just takes one...
Am also remembering your post frmo last year when you were on the playground and noticed that he did have a pal...hoping for many more of those moments and fewer of these.
Hug.
Posted by: Danielle | 09/01/2011 at 11:57 PM
Praying you and yours live far from the coast, Cuz-uncle?and are safe?
Posted by: Mary Elizabeth | 09/02/2011 at 04:19 AM
Nevermind, tsunami warning canceled. Hope you are all well.
Posted by: Mary Elizabeth | 09/02/2011 at 05:59 AM
sigh. sometimes you just have to let the tears come because it stinks and the world isn't fair. perhaps today felt better. xoxoxoxoxoxo....wish they could be in person.
Posted by: fleming | 09/02/2011 at 04:43 PM
Sorry for the delayed response to all your thoughtful comments, I took Friday off and my family went down to Seward. I too hope Elias finds one buddy, the girl from last year is still at school but the two have yet to really connect at recess as they both gravitate towards adults and wander in their own world. To all of you who also feel the heartbreak of seeing your child disconnected from peers I hope we all can cry when we need to, support each other, and rejoice in those rare moments of connection. More soon, Christy
Posted by: Christy | 09/04/2011 at 02:57 PM
Yes, it does totally suck. Although my daughter is only 15 months old and thus not yet in school, I know this pain, too. It hits frequently at the park when I see other little ones who are her age or younger, walking, babbling, doing all the developmentally age appropriate things. We start toddler music class in 2 weeks - she's going to love it. I'm going to try to love it with her. I think it may be hard.
Posted by: Karolyn | 09/04/2011 at 06:37 PM
After a long cold winter, I look forward to the dandelions. They mean there are new things coming...
Who doesn't love a dandelion?
Posted by: Shelley | 09/04/2011 at 06:45 PM
I just want to scoop up all the dandelions and run away with them so they never have to realize they are not the same as their classmates and they never have to feel inadequate
Posted by: Kim | 09/05/2011 at 03:55 PM