On my way to
school each morning, I pass a house maybe a half-block from the school. There are times when I see a young man and
his dad waiting for the bus. The student
is developmentally and cognitively disabled, and my assumption is that this
young man goes to a shelter for training.
A special bus
comes to pick the young man up and the father walks with his son and waits
until he is seated, and then stands at the edge of the driveway and waves as
the bus pulls away. It is only then that
the father slowly, with a limp, walks back to his house. It happens each day, every day.
It is touching
and moving and no matter what I have planned for the day that faces me, no
matter how much in a hurry I might be, that scene played out each morning calms
me somehow and seems to put me in a better place.
A Parent’s Love.
My father-in-law
and mother-in-law, Kim’s parents, are raising my nephew, Shannon, a fifteen
year old cognitively and physically challenged boy. Chronologically, Shannon is a year younger
than my daughter, Emily, but cognitively, much younger than that. Kim’s sister, died a few years ago from a
massive seizure, leaving her son, in the care of her parents.
For parents in
their seventies . . . for parents of any age . . . they do a remarkable job
providing for Shannon’s emotional and physical needs. They take Shannon to and from a special
baseball league just for kids and adults like Shannon. They take him to and from physical therapy and
speech therapy, and even a special training center where Shannon learns life
skills. They treat him as their own son,
not as a grandchild, and the love they have for him and the love he has for
them is readily apparent to anyone who takes the time to notice.
A Parent’s Love.
I watch teachers
in my building work with kids with autism, Down’s syndrome, and kids with other
cognitive and physical disabilities, and their patience and love for our kids
is astounding and actually, humbling.
They are patient, kind, and nurturing.
They truly care about and love these kids as if these kids were their
own.
Linda is an art
teacher who came to me a year or so ago with an idea. She wanted to develop an art class for kids
who are cognitively and physically challenged.
And she did. These kids do
amazing work. Other regular education
students buddy up with one of the other kids and they work as a team. I’m not sure who has more fun, but I do know
that without Linda, it wouldn’t have happened for any of them.
Scott is a young
man I got to know many years ago when I coached summer basketball camps. Nice young man, a leader, quiet, and
humble. Years later, he became an
adaptive physical education teacher because he wanted to. “His calling,” he said. When I had commented that he was a gift to these
kids, Scott thought about it, smiled, and said, “I think they are a gift to me.”
A Parent’s Love.
You know, there
many examples of parents, teachers, coaches, paraprofessionals and volunteers
who care for and love their kids, our kids.
They don’t view these kids as someone else’s kids. No, not at all. Each of them will tell you that these are
their kids. And like Scott, they will
tell you that these kids are gifts to them.
Challenging? Yes. Some
days tougher than others? Yes. But I have to believe that in each case,
after watching these wonderful men and women both young and old, that there are
many more good days than bad days. Sort
of makes my bad days seem less. Sort of
makes my bad days seem not so bad after all.
In fact, just thinking about these wonderful men and women, and having
the opportunity to give them a shout out, causes me to smile and lightens my
load a bit. Something to think about . .
.