Some things you can't prevent.
Feb. 3rd, 2010 12:54 pmAlisdair's school gets out early today. On his own, last night, he suggested a playdate with his best friend, who lives just down the street from his school. I handed him the phone and let him call and ask, which he did, and then I set it up with Troy's mom. It was all good and I was really proud of him. You have no idea how much progress that is.
The discussion that followed, though... that was a lot harder. He and Will and I were discussing school and how Will was worried that Al would embarass him in school next year, being silly and all, and I told him not to worry about it. Al explained how this was true, as it was unlikely they'd be in the same social classes. I thought this was an interesting phrase, so I asked him to explain. He told me, then (with Will helping to explain it) that he was in pretty much the "lowest" social class at school. He likes his friends, don't misunderstand, and he didn't seem unhappy. I asked if other kids picked on him, and he said no. He went on to explain that he avoided the "higher" social classes as much as possible, and that avoided all chance of being picked on. I asked what constituted "higher" and "lower," and it was apparently the number of people in that social class rather than an attribution of quality per se. Still...
I know, as much as I would wish otherwise, that my son is a special education student, and that still carries a stigma of its own in school, even when all the kids are together in class most of the time. He's really smart, he's noticably different in social interaction, and he doesn't read social cues terribly. To another 12 or 13 year old, he stands out like a sore thumb. I'm incredibly grateful that he has this program and a few really good friends (who are also in the program). But it kills me -- kills me -- to hear about his "social classification." He's such a beautiful, awesome kid, and I want everyone else to know it and appreciate him the way I do. And the knowledge that they won't... that they actually can't, as most of them aren't built to do it and don't yet have the skills in place... god. That just tears at me. I want to go back in time to a point where the fact that he was different didn't mean he was excluded or an outcast and make the world stick to that. I also know that someday, when he's grown, the differences won't be as pronounced as they are now. Maybe even before he gets out of high school it'll happen, but definitely later. He's capable of that, and he's learned so much that he'll be able to bridge those differences when he chooses to.
In the meantime, though, I should be grateful that he has his friends and that they care about him and think he's cool, and be satisfied with that. It seems that he is, and I guess that has to be enough.
The discussion that followed, though... that was a lot harder. He and Will and I were discussing school and how Will was worried that Al would embarass him in school next year, being silly and all, and I told him not to worry about it. Al explained how this was true, as it was unlikely they'd be in the same social classes. I thought this was an interesting phrase, so I asked him to explain. He told me, then (with Will helping to explain it) that he was in pretty much the "lowest" social class at school. He likes his friends, don't misunderstand, and he didn't seem unhappy. I asked if other kids picked on him, and he said no. He went on to explain that he avoided the "higher" social classes as much as possible, and that avoided all chance of being picked on. I asked what constituted "higher" and "lower," and it was apparently the number of people in that social class rather than an attribution of quality per se. Still...
I know, as much as I would wish otherwise, that my son is a special education student, and that still carries a stigma of its own in school, even when all the kids are together in class most of the time. He's really smart, he's noticably different in social interaction, and he doesn't read social cues terribly. To another 12 or 13 year old, he stands out like a sore thumb. I'm incredibly grateful that he has this program and a few really good friends (who are also in the program). But it kills me -- kills me -- to hear about his "social classification." He's such a beautiful, awesome kid, and I want everyone else to know it and appreciate him the way I do. And the knowledge that they won't... that they actually can't, as most of them aren't built to do it and don't yet have the skills in place... god. That just tears at me. I want to go back in time to a point where the fact that he was different didn't mean he was excluded or an outcast and make the world stick to that. I also know that someday, when he's grown, the differences won't be as pronounced as they are now. Maybe even before he gets out of high school it'll happen, but definitely later. He's capable of that, and he's learned so much that he'll be able to bridge those differences when he chooses to.
In the meantime, though, I should be grateful that he has his friends and that they care about him and think he's cool, and be satisfied with that. It seems that he is, and I guess that has to be enough.