When I was young and in school I only saw the special ed class in passing, while classes were changing. Never did we interact with the children in those classes. I thought about that tonight. Will the kids at recess include Ashlynn, like they did at her old school. She made lots of sweet friends there. When we see them in the community they run to her, ask for a hug and ask her how she is doing.
Over the summer and even tonight as we were out with the kids and they were playing I heard negative comments coming from the other children that Ashlynn was around. I don't know if they knew why she was different, but they did notice she didn't act like the other kids and in their own little way were shunning her. It really made my heart sink, deep down to the pit of my stomach. She had no idea what they were doing or what their words or games meant. She just knew there were other kids to play with and she wanted to play.
When will she realize that not everyone wants to play with her because she is different? When will she realize she is being left out, and will she know why? I remember a story a friend told once. She had a friend whose daughter had Down Syndrome. As she picked her up from school her daughter was unusually quiet and she asked her what was wrong. Her daughter replied, "mom, what is retarded?" Someone had called her daughter that awful word and she had to explain to her what it meant and why the other children were using that word. It's just awful. Children can just be awful.
I didn't understand Down Syndrome when I was a child. Would I have been one to leave someone out? I would not have teased them, but leaving someone out can be just as hurtful.
Tonight I cried for Ashlynn and what she'll have to go through in her life. Tonight I cried like I did when she was born, because I realized, again, that this world is full of cruel people who will never know how sweet she is and witness her unconditional love for others. She will have some amazing moments and I don't want mean words to over shadow those fantastic times.
So I'm glad and scared that she has the opportunity, as well as others in her class to teach the other 400 children in her school about inclusion. I'm thankful that she has a fantastic and loving teacher who is willing to start over at this school to show to others, that these children are just as fun, smart, and beautiful as the rest. When I look at Ashlynn, now almost seven years old, I still see this happy, smiling, six month old face. I think I always will.