It's always hard going to events at school, as I've written about. This isn't anything in any way the school does. Janey is always included. But it's just hard being faced with the differences between Janey and all the other 2nd graders. It really hit me yesterday. Janey is like a toddler in a class full of big kids. When she saw me, she ran over to me and wanted to be held. I gave in and did so, because I know she wouldn't have stayed at her desk. She was in her manic laughing mode, and I was trying to quiet her while the teacher was talking, although I'm sure the kids are very used to her being noisy. Later I took her for a walk around the school, as she was getting upset. She very much doesn't like her routine changed, and I am not supposed to be there in the middle of the day. I mentioned this to her teacher, and I loved how she understood. She said "but I know you'd feel awful if you didn't come" which is exactly true. I like it when people get it, and don't try to fix things that can't be fixed. I have to go---I would never not go to school events. But it's never going to be easy to do so.
There's great parts about being around the school too, of course. I get to see as I always do how many people know Janey and are so good to her, and how happy she was walking around the school. The school is shaped like a bit doughnut with a courtyard in the middle, so it's perfect for talking a walk around when Janey needs that. She sees people, they say hi and wait for her to answer, which is something terrific for her to work on. The whole school is part of her education.
And that's the story of my life. There is always some sad with the happy. I love the school, I love my Janey, but I'd be lying if I didn't say I sit there seeing the wonderful kids in her class that have written long pieces about interesting memories and I have a deep sadness that Janey can't do that. I see them sitting at their desks, eager to answer questions, learning so much so easily, it seems, and my heart breaks a little. I love the Janey I have, but I still have dreams of the Janey I won't ever have. I wish I could say otherwise, but I can't.
4 comments:
Another post that hit the spot exactly. I had a bit of a cry reading it actually. You summed it up perfectly. I am already going through it to a certain extent since we've started going to the playgroup 3 times a week. Even at 2.5 Sophie is already so profoundly different from her peers. Heck, she's even behind the 18 mos old kids. And I want to say I don't care... But I do.
Great post! Janey is beautiful. My daughter is 3 1/2 almost 4 and has PDD-NOS. She was just recently diagnosed. We began to see clear differences between my daughter and her peers right when she transitioned to the 3 year old room at daycare. I feel like all of the other kids in her class can speak like little adults and I'm thrilled if she can tell me anything at all about what she did at school today. Usually I don't get anything out of her. Right now her main communications are reciting lines from all of her favorite tv shows and movies. Since I recently found your blog I have loved reading your posts and I wanted to say hi! Tracy
Exactly, Suzanne. The grief process never ends because it is never-ending. That is the hardest part of all this.
I think it's impossible not to be affected by seeing other kids our kids ages. It just sometimes doesn't seem possible all they can do and say, even though I have two kids that were like them at that age. I want to say I don't care too---I really wish I could say that and mean it, but I do care. And it certainly is never-ending.
Tracy, Janey still mostly talks through lines from TV shows and movies! Sometimes she can use them in the right context and they work, other times they are just random.
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