Ka-CHOW!
Most movies about people with disabilities go something like this:
(1) A grim-faced doctor tells the family, "He'll never hold a tennis racket again," or "You should put her in a facility for the rest of her life." (2) Then, ka-CHOW! there's a huge breakthrough, and the disabled person's caretaker--usually an unflappable nurse or orderly--calls the family and says into the phone, "You're not gonna believe this!" and they all come running, to see him joyfully swinging a tennis racket like Bjorn Borg, or her jumping up and down on the bed of the facility, asking for a cup of Darjeeling tea. (3) Everybody laughs until they cry, etc. etc., roll credits.
What nobody tells you about disabilities is that there are many days that don't have any breakthroughs at all. Most of the time, I arrive at Tess's school in the afternoon and hear from her teachers only that she did well that day, and didn't spit up too much of her lunch, and seemed happy. In other words, about 98% of the time, she stays the course.
That's why this week we were thrilled to hear that Tess had taken two steps at school. She walked! It happened. It's common for her to hold our hands or fingers and take a few steps, but this was different. She stood while holding her teacher's hands, but then stayed standing, even after the hands disappeared. Then her teacher stood in front of her, and Tess took one purposeful step. Realizing that she wasn't holding onto anything, Tess panicked a bit, but didn't fall. She took one more step, before falling forward against her teacher's legs and grabbing them with all her strength.
It's funny because we were just starting to become concerned about the no-walking thing. She'll turn five in the fall. After this summer, she's only got one more year of preschool before she has to go to kindergarten. And if she isn't walking by then, we aren't sure what to do. At our town's public school, they won't be willing to carry her. There's been talk of a wheelchair. Which is frustrating, because we know she can walk but just hasn't chosen to do so yet. At a meeting with all of Tess's teachers, literally the day before the two steps, my wife had said, "We gotta get this girl walking."
And then, as if she had been listening, Tess did it. The next day. I wish I had seen it. It hasn't happened again, but we'll be watching for it.
(1) A grim-faced doctor tells the family, "He'll never hold a tennis racket again," or "You should put her in a facility for the rest of her life." (2) Then, ka-CHOW! there's a huge breakthrough, and the disabled person's caretaker--usually an unflappable nurse or orderly--calls the family and says into the phone, "You're not gonna believe this!" and they all come running, to see him joyfully swinging a tennis racket like Bjorn Borg, or her jumping up and down on the bed of the facility, asking for a cup of Darjeeling tea. (3) Everybody laughs until they cry, etc. etc., roll credits.
What nobody tells you about disabilities is that there are many days that don't have any breakthroughs at all. Most of the time, I arrive at Tess's school in the afternoon and hear from her teachers only that she did well that day, and didn't spit up too much of her lunch, and seemed happy. In other words, about 98% of the time, she stays the course.
That's why this week we were thrilled to hear that Tess had taken two steps at school. She walked! It happened. It's common for her to hold our hands or fingers and take a few steps, but this was different. She stood while holding her teacher's hands, but then stayed standing, even after the hands disappeared. Then her teacher stood in front of her, and Tess took one purposeful step. Realizing that she wasn't holding onto anything, Tess panicked a bit, but didn't fall. She took one more step, before falling forward against her teacher's legs and grabbing them with all her strength.
It's funny because we were just starting to become concerned about the no-walking thing. She'll turn five in the fall. After this summer, she's only got one more year of preschool before she has to go to kindergarten. And if she isn't walking by then, we aren't sure what to do. At our town's public school, they won't be willing to carry her. There's been talk of a wheelchair. Which is frustrating, because we know she can walk but just hasn't chosen to do so yet. At a meeting with all of Tess's teachers, literally the day before the two steps, my wife had said, "We gotta get this girl walking." And then, as if she had been listening, Tess did it. The next day. I wish I had seen it. It hasn't happened again, but we'll be watching for it.
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