The Answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything.

There’s one thing about having a special needs child that doesn’t really occur to you when you first find out about their diagnosis. Of course you morn for the child you expected to have but ultimately you change and adapt everything about your life to accommodate this little being. When your child grows up and still retains that lower level of cognition, what do you do?

Sure they still like to go to playgrounds, libraries and enjoy them to the extent that they can but what of the other children? Clearly the older that special needs children get, the more obvious it is to others that they are special or there is something wrong which makes the reactions of the norms more blatant and obvious.

We took our daughter to the library the other day. She loves it. There’s one particular spot in the storytime area she particularly loves. A muted eggplant ceiling with columns covered in colorful mosaic tile, a circular seating area recessed a few steps into the ground with a long with a very bright Ikea-looking chandelier makes for Evie heaven.  She shows this love and enjoyment by standing in place, stomping her feet while pumping her hands up and down while loudly exclaiming, “Aaahhheeeeehhaaaa“ and other variations.

 Naturally the other children in the area stopped immediately and stared. I know I should have asked them if they have any questions but I can’t trust myself to sound outright rude and I’d rather not emotionally scar children I don’t know over being curious. Instead I waited for their parents nearby to say something. Anything as did my husband when he overheard a child ask their parent repeatedly, “Why doesn’t that girl over there talk? What’s wrong with her?”

A similar thing happened this week which prompted this post. Evie went to sit down in her class and when she started her usual greeting of “Aaaa-eeehee eh-eh aheh,” the other children in her class shifted and even moved away from her. Of course, Evie being the princess that she is didn’t notice and continued to sit and be in her happy little world.  But my husband did, he told me about it and I soon forgot.  But later, he turned to me and said, “I keep thinking about it… but at least Evie doesn’t notice.”

It’s true you know. Why do we protect our kids so much, especially severely disabled ones? As parents I think it’s more to protect ourselves and the idea there really isn't much we can do about how others act towards our children. I have no doubt that my daughter has a sense of self-awareness on some cognitive level. She understands dangerous situations, she knows who her family is, she gives me more kisses when I’ve been gone. She understands who to go to when she needs something and understands if she runs by me with a lidless milk jug, I will immediately get up and run after her. It’s definitely something you don’t prepare for, how you are going to feel about certain situations not necessarily your child.

The older I get the more I feel that the question, THE question is not the ultimate answer to life, the universe, and everything (brownie points if you thought 42), but it is how can we teach sincere empathy to our children?  Can it be taught? I think about how I was as a kid and I probably would have done the same to be honest. I would have told my parents I saw some strange girl and they, at least my mom, would have guilt tripped me into being nice so the next time I saw them, I would sit closer. Yes as teachers and parents we can talk and even show through our actions how to be accepting but what happens when you’re not there? I’ve had parents come up to me and tell me how much their children enjoy being around Evie, perhaps more so at times when adults and teachers are around. I don’t doubt as Evie and her normal peers get older there will be more staring and unintentional musical chairs and I suppose as much as I would like her to be more cognitively aware, I fear it.

 So what can parents of normal children do? If you see your child staring or if your child asks a question like “Why does that person walk funny?” or “Why doesn’t’ that girl talk?”Answer it. Even if they answer is “I don’t know,” it’s okay. Children love it when we admit we don’t know something.  I’d like to think more often than not my brothers and sisters in the special needs parental universe would welcome a parent who came up and politely asked about their child. They want you to ask. They want you to know what’s wrong with your child so you can teach your own. This may not be the case with parents of younger children but I tell you if they have a severely disabled child, by the time that child is school age, those parents have heard possibly every offensive comment under the sun that a simple, “What’s wrong with your kid?" wont phase them. Then the normal child would see that we should not be afraid of peers who are different and know that it’s okay to ask questions.