N did great at the dentist today. Dr. Gina was new to him, but he handled it like a pro. We exited to the waiting room where she was to meet us to discuss any issues with his x-rays. And as we waited, I couldn't help but notice--though I tried not to--the young man pacing back and forth, regularly announcing, "Go home!" to his parents. His mother reminded Sam that they had to wait until the dentist could see them. That only elicited more "Go home!" proclamations from Sam. That was all he said as he paced back and forth, ears covered by headphones that I could only imagine were piping in something that was meant to keep him tethered--or tethered enough--to make it through a dental visit.
I felt guilty, truly, that I could have a kind of conversation with N, at that moment about how to answer a call on his new cell phone. Actually, it's my old cell phone, which he has some facility with using, so I just got a new one. I called him, he answered, we had two or three sentences of conversation, and that was it.
As I drove the short distance home, I wondered if Sam's mom thought I had been showing off, showing her up. Hey, your kid paces and mutters; mine can answer a phone, sort of. But it was nothing like that for me. I had said to her as we waited, "It's hard. And I have a Sam too." I wanted her to know how badly I empathized, without prying. I hope she got that, and didn't think I was showing off. God knows my son is so far off the mainstream grid that he's probably closer to this mom's Sam than she realizes. I thought to say to her that her Sam reminded me of a young man from my son's Special Olympics basketball program, but I didn't want to force conversation. If my parenting journey is any guide, the stress of these kinds of situations is incalculable, and more than folks not in our world can ever imagine.
Sam was kinda sorta like the legions of folks glued to their headphones as they commute, wait for their appointments, or otherwise kill time. But Sam's non-Beats were more like some kind of intravenous calming potion, piped directly into his eardrums. If they weren't exactly a lifeline for him, it's not a stretch to think that they were for his parents, likely the only thing that could get Sam to wait, even though all he wanted to do was go home.
Monday, February 18, 2013
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Of Fools and Public Forums
A friend steered me today toward a video from a public meeting in my town, in which a woman stood before a microphone imploring school officials to let her exercise her Constitutional right to hire any teacher she wants to tutor her kids. Holy cow. THIS is a woman with no real problems in life.
I watched this foolishness unfold after having spent time on the phone yesterday discussing with his lead teacher my younger son's Voc 2 assessment, in which his IQ was pegged at about 45, and his future prospects for gainful employment were noted as being pretty darn poor, at least based on where he is now.
And then there's another child of mine, walking a rocky path these days. My heart cracks with anguish over some of the struggles, though I also know this is the terrain of that horror chamber known as middle school.
Work challenges from all angles, but I embrace the challenges, because they inspire me to get over, under and around the hurdles, and give me ample opportunity to feel gratitude that my job is not a leisurely, brain-killing stroll from one meeting to another, from one call to another, from one bout of paper processing to another.
I am so in need of a vacation that I can feel it in my teeth. But that's not coming for a while. So I'll live off of caffeine and the hope that I won't be too dog tired to appreciate time off when I actually take some.
I try to find time to daydream about the life I would construct if I could. But when I do, while it has shades of difference from the life I have, the essential features remain unchanged. I don't believe in that nonsense about God giving folks what they can handle. That's just a load of theological horse shit, in my opinion. But speaking of the Constitution, I do believe that some of us just aren't constitutionally cut out to whine about nonsense. We know we don't have time for that, because we've got important people and things to tend to.
I watched this foolishness unfold after having spent time on the phone yesterday discussing with his lead teacher my younger son's Voc 2 assessment, in which his IQ was pegged at about 45, and his future prospects for gainful employment were noted as being pretty darn poor, at least based on where he is now.
And then there's another child of mine, walking a rocky path these days. My heart cracks with anguish over some of the struggles, though I also know this is the terrain of that horror chamber known as middle school.
Work challenges from all angles, but I embrace the challenges, because they inspire me to get over, under and around the hurdles, and give me ample opportunity to feel gratitude that my job is not a leisurely, brain-killing stroll from one meeting to another, from one call to another, from one bout of paper processing to another.
I am so in need of a vacation that I can feel it in my teeth. But that's not coming for a while. So I'll live off of caffeine and the hope that I won't be too dog tired to appreciate time off when I actually take some.
I try to find time to daydream about the life I would construct if I could. But when I do, while it has shades of difference from the life I have, the essential features remain unchanged. I don't believe in that nonsense about God giving folks what they can handle. That's just a load of theological horse shit, in my opinion. But speaking of the Constitution, I do believe that some of us just aren't constitutionally cut out to whine about nonsense. We know we don't have time for that, because we've got important people and things to tend to.
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