On Tuesday morning, Nathan’s kindergarten class had a Thanksgiving skit and feast. The skit came first, at 9:00, and consisted of the children singing songs and reciting lines about the first Thanksgiving. When Nathan’s teacher sent home his line last week, I read it and thought There. Is. No. Freaking. Way.
Although his speech has progressed, he’s still very much delayed. He speaks in sentences, but only short ones like There it is! or well-practiced ones like May I be excused? Four to five words is pretty much the max we can get out of him. To my dismay, the line assigned to him was “When Autumn came, they wanted to celebrate and give thanks.”
Autumn?
CELEBRATE???
I wondered aloud to Mr. Andi if perhaps Mrs. Tynes could be satisfied with “Give Thanks” (which would actually be “Div Tanks” but people would surely get the gist.) Mr. Andi thought we ought to try, however, so he sat down and began working with him on his one line. The first night, he was able to say it with the paper in hand. Within a couple of days, he could recite it from memory.
That’s when I began to believe.
He practiced it at school. He practiced it at home. He practiced it standing in front of Sarah Kate and I as we watched on the couch. I recorded him saying it with my phone and then let him watch the video. He said it for his therapist at speech on Monday. He said it on the way to school in the car on Tuesday morning and Sarah Kate and I both clapped with great enthusiasm.
With cautious optimism, I packed my DSLR camera and took it with me to the school. As I entered the classroom, I chose a seat on the front row, center. I got my phone ready so I could both photograph and video it. I tried not to be concerned that he was the only Native Person not wearing his headpiece and instead focus on the fact that he was being still and quiet and that both of his shoes were on his feet.
And then – at last! – his big moment arrived.
Mrs. Allison, the aide, was positioned nearby and had his line written in big letters on a piece of paper next to his seat, “just in case”. We had both mentioned earlier that morning the possible reward of a sucker – oh, how he loves suckers! – if he said his line. I held my breath.
And then this happened:
It was brutal.
I didn’t take a single photo. I simply stopped recording and bit my lip. Hard. I refused to turn my head to either side, because I didn’t want any of the other parents to see the tears filling my eyes. I put my head down and sent Mr. Andi a text.
When the skit was over, I walked over to the bench where Nathan was sitting and asked him to say his line for me. He did – very quietly. He retrieved his headpiece and I asked him to say it one more time so I could film him. He did it. Twice.
I don’t know why his Big Skit Fail bothered me so much. It was a major accomplishment for him to be able to not only say the line, but recite it from memory, and he did – many times, both before and after the skit. He said it to me, to Mrs. Allison, to some other parents, and according to Mrs. Allison, even to one random person in the hallway during the cooking station activities. He CAN do it, and that’s what’s important.
I’m crying…. beautiful…
As a parent also sitting in the front row …. I must say that Nathan’s refusal to say his lines on cue with a room full of people starring at him may have been understandably disappointing for you, knowing he was fully capable and had worked so hard for that moment. For me, it filled my heart with joy to witness all of his young classmates patiently and lovingly waiting for Nathan to decide if he wanted to deliver his lines today. Nathan brings so much joy to those who know him and that is something not every mom can say of their children! He’s teaching his friends so much about acceptance and tolerance of others. I feel blessed to have Nathan in my son’s class! Be proud! You ARE the mom of the popular kid!
God bless you. You are the encouraging mom friend everyone needs.
Thank you so much, Tiffany! I know we were barely acquaintances before this school year started, but I feel so blessed to have you, the other parents, and all of your children in this class. Another friend who only saw the video made a similar comment on Facebook about his classmates (of which Nolan, of course, was one!) I have been encouraged every time I’ve been with the class watching how loving, supportive and, yes, protective they are. But it’s not just the children – every one of you have done the same for me.
This was my thought as I was watching the video. His classmates seemed like they were silently cheering him on. I can only imagine how frustrating and heartbreaking the day was for you, but Nathan is clearly so loved, even if he did get a bit of stage fright.
As someone who only know’s Nathan through your images, videos and blog, I can only look and see stage fright. But goodness, he sat there so well, and all the patients in the room was amazing! I suspect that Tiffany hit the nail on the head with her observations and words.
Beautifully said, Tiffany. 🙂
Stage fright happens to the best of us.
I think Stage Fright is our culprit, here. When I was his age, I was Snow White in our classroom performance. I had to sing “Someday My Prince Will Come.” I could do it. I just didn’t do it that day. I hid behind the kitchen set and refused to come out. I don’t remember how the performance ended, though!
This makes me feel much better, because now I know you as an accomplished performer!
I agree with Emily. This happens with many typical kids as well. It’s just extra hard seeing it happen with our specials. I encourage you not to quit going though.
My heart ached for you a little when I read this. It reminded me of my daughter, who probably has mild autism (we haven’t felt the need to have her evaluated). At age 6, she decided she wanted to try a drama program with her older siblings. On opening night, I waited in line to get front row seats. For the 15 minutes she was on stage, I watched my child turn her back on the audience and play with the backdrop, she repeatedly pulled the ears of another child’s dog costume, and then she stuck her finger up her nose and mined until blissfully her scene was done. The other parents, my friends, laughed at her antics, and outwardly, I laughed too. What else can you do? Laughing is better than crying.
We stuck with the drama program because they were willing to have her and she wanted to. She has performed in roughly three plays each year getting slightly better each time. Last month, age 8, my baby sung her first solo. As I watched her wait, hands still, eyes facing the audience, in the spotlight for her musical cue, I cried ugly tears. The tears came again when she came out to bow and my friends, the other parents, many who watched that first performance two years ago, stood up and cheered. They recognized how much progress they were seeing and they wanted to celebrate with us. We’ve found a tribe.
When it is tough, remember you are not at the end of the road, not by a long shot. It will get better. Please also remember you have a tribe and Nathan has a tribe.
I love this so much. You are right – he does have a tribe.