One of the toughest things about having a child with special needs has little to do with the child: it’s facing the death of your own dreams for her.
When I was a kid, not a lot of girls participated in competitive sports – dance, baton twirling, and piano were more typical – and since my mom wasn’t very “sporty” herself, those were the activities I enjoyed.
Well…enjoyed may not be the right word for it. Although I’m grateful that I learned to read music, that’s about the only good thing about piano lessons.
I loathed piano lessons.
When I was fourteen, my P.E. teacher tapped a few of us for the track team. Now, I’m not naive – I know I wasn’t picked for my athletic ability and that she was probably just trying to find enough girls to field a team. But I practiced for a few weeks during P.E. – hurdles, no less! – and then proudly came home and told my mom I wanted to be on the track team. She laughed, and that was the end of that (though she did support me when I tried out for varsity cheerleader and made it later that spring).
Please note: I am in no way slamming my mom – she’s a wonderful lady who did a great job raising me. Although I do take issue with that one disastrous pageant (Agriculture Queen!) that she convinced me to enter. Thankfully, she learned her lesson after that one. 🙂
Before I had a daughter, I hoped that she would have an interest in sports. Then Sarah Kate was born with cerebral palsy, and I let the sports dream die a quiet death.
When Sarah Kate came home two years ago asking to join the swim team, Mr. Andi and I were reluctant, but she thrived. The beauty of swim team is that it’s simultaneously highly individual and a team sport. It never mattered if she was the slowest kid, only that she continued to improve.
We’ve tried guitar lessons and fun runs, and discussed golf and archery. After attending opening of baseball season last spring and watching two of her guy friends play, Sarah Kate declared that she wanted to play baseball. I told her that girls don’t usually play baseball and hoped she’d drop it.
She started inquiring about playing softball then. Mr. Bill, her adaptive P.E. teacher, has been working with her for awhile on catching and throwing, even presenting her with a gift of a pink glove and ball.
A couple of weeks ago, we had barely pulled away from the curb in the school pickup lane when she whipped out a sheet of paper and shoved it over the seat.
Oh, dear. It was the flyer for girls spring softball.
Most parents probably don’t agonize over whether to register for softball, but…I’m not most parents. On the one hand, if she’s really interested, I want her to try it (I’d even let her try a pageant if she wanted, though I have thankfully been spared that horror thus far).
But on the other hand, I feel like I know more than she does about the realities of softball (like, the fact that running is an essential skill). And while I know that at this age, youth league is less competitive than it will be when she’s older, that doesn’t guarantee that the other kids – or their parents – will welcome her with open arms.
Will Sarah Kate be devastated if I don’t let her play softball? Probably not. She’s an easygoing kid who tends to go with the flow.
The real question is this: Should I allow the dream of a daughter who plays sports be resurrected?
Registration is this Saturday.
Go for it.
As awful as it might be from a parent standpoint, I think you have to let her try and see for herself. And maybe, just maybe the other kids and parents will pleasantly surprise you.
I think she’s still young enough that playing now would be a lot more about the overall lessons of team sports. Sportsmanship, working together, supporting fellow teammates, etc… rather than it being highly competitive. That said, I think Sarah Kate is a smart girl and it’s not like she’s unaware of her personal challenges.
I understand the dilemma. You want to protect her from what could be a horrible experience because kids can be cruel and she may not be able to keep up. But. What if you’re keeping her from a wonderful experience, one in which the other kids and families are accepting and supportive? If it gets bad you can always pull her out. But assuming it will be an awful experience and not letting her do it – how is that all that different than if the league told you Sarah Kate couldn’t play because of her disability?
I’ll say this. I coached high school tall flags for 6 years (basically dance team while spinning a flag/rifle/sabre). My second year teaching I had a girl audition for the squad who has cerebral palsy. This is a precision activity, rooted in the military tradition, and the group marches in parades, on the field at halftime, and does routines in competitions to taped music as well. She had no dance experience and her left arm and leg were essentially slower than her right. Coordinating them was difficult for her. Doing things like marching in step, spinning a flag, dancing, were not going to come easily. But her parents always let her try, even if she wasn’t going to be great at something. She made the team. And four years later she was the captain of my squad and performed the captains solo during our halftime routine. It took her two years to build her skills so that she wasn’t always slightly behind the rest of the team. Being on the team was physical therapy in many ways. But more importantly, at a time in a girls life (high school) when other girls can be the cruelest, nobody ever treated her any differently. Could her parents have told her that’s not a good idea and protected her from what could have been a potentially awful situation? Sure.
If Sarah Kate were my daughter, I’d let her at least try.
I’m with Jennifer, just let her try. Maybe make sure she fully understands ahead of time that running is involved, so in case she doesn’t make it she will kind of see it coming. But maybe they’d be willing to allow her to have a pinch runner. And she could play catcher, where there’s not a lot of running. Or just be designated hitter.
Andi, as an 8-year softball mom – and your friend – I think you should let her do it. At her age, it’s all instructional, often coach pitched, and in today’s “everyone gets a trophy” world, this is not a cutthroat competitive age. If she were asking as a newbie at age 13 to start playing, I would have a different recommendation. This is not intended as a slam to kids we’ve played with over the years, but there have been many kids who do not have physical challenges who can’t throw a ball straight for the life of them. Good luck – whatever you decide will be the right decision.
Take your cues from her. You risk disappointment for yourself but seems very little (emotional) risk to her. Disappointment comes for poorly-made expectations. Can you adjust your expectations to reduce the risk to yourself?
Well said.
Preach it, K! Let her do it. And since we have the new “stadium” in our backyard, SK can come practice her hitting any time. Coach Dan and the boys would love that!
🙂
Toughie.
Ok Andi, me and my several tiaras are over here hoping that knowing that won’t damage our credibility with you :). I’m with these other mammas – this isn’t about SK being the best player on the team, this is about her spreading her wings and giving something a try. It may surprise you when she’s not the “worst” player on the team. On the other hand, it may not go all that well. Either way, you are giving her the chance to experience and develop her own set of expectations, rather than filtering her experiences with your expectations! And I will always come down on the side of having high hopes.
It looks as if this were Survivor, we’d have to say “The Tribe has spoken! Gather your things and head out now” The real problem could be in not what happens on the field but off the field. Someone has got to chase Wild Man.
It may be time for the backpack-leash. 🙂
Your girl is amazing! I love it! I know it is a tough decision for you, but she clearly has her mind made up. I bet your are there on Saturday. 🙂
Good luck to your daughter and I agree with the masses.