Four weeks ago, I confessed to you all in this space that I fought back tears at Nathan’s Thanksgiving program. After a lot of hard work to recite a really difficult line, he mastered it and was ready on the day of the performance, only to bail on the whole thing and just sit there like a bump on a log. It was brutal, and if I’m being honest, it still stings a little.
A couple of weeks ago, the aide, Miss Allison, asked me what I wanted them to do about the upcoming Christmas program. I told her to give him a line again, although I was pretty sure he wouldn’t say it – the hope was that one day – someday! – he would finally do it, and we need to assume he is able (even if he isn’t willing). I’m sure that the teacher and Miss Allison wanted to give him a line, but wanted to spare my feelings as I had made it clear on the day of the Thanksgiving debacle that I would not be back for the Christmas play – Mr. Andi would attend in my place.
Alas, Mr. Andi was out of town on Christmas program day, so despite my earlier declarations, I found myself in the school lunchroom last Thursday morning. Just like last time, Nathan had worked diligently on his line at home for days, and knowing he would be expected to speak into a microphone, we set up a faux microphone using a floor lamp for him to practice. Just as before, he mastered his line, but more importantly, I tempered my expectations. He was not going to say his line into that microphone, and that was fine.
He would be cute. Cuteness would be enough.
Nathan was an elf, and I didn’t realize until the program started that he had an additional part. At the very beginning, two of the other elves announced the beginning of the program, with his pal Lucy calling “Action!” and Nathan operating the clapperboard.
He enjoyed it so much that he did it twice.
Things were going well, for the most part. He wasn’t always turned the right way…
…and he wasn’t always doing the hand motions when he was supposed to (though most of the time, he’d end up doing them, just a little late…
…but he rang his bells…
…played his kazoo…
…and pretty much stayed in his spot. I was satisfied with that.
And then his big moment came.
Click below to watch, or go here to view it on YouTube.
(Note: His line was “I’m the little elf who checks off toys.”)
Y’all. HE DID IT.
Not only did he do it, but he loved it so much he went back to the mic for more. He just mumbled the second time, but he clearly had no stage fright.
What he did have, during the “second act”, however, was ants in his pants. The rocking horse prop sitting right next to his bench was too much of a temptation, and he climbed aboard and rode for most of the rest of the play. At one point he figured out he could make the rocking horse move forward by rocking it a certain way, and when Miss Allison (who was stationed just offstage) walked away to move a prop, he very nearly rode the horse right off the front of the stage.
Thankfully, he was stopped before he lost any teeth or broke any bones, and before we knew it, the play was over and each group went to take their final bow. Each child was supposed to step to the mic, say their name and the part they played, then bow together as a group.
Nathan announced that he was an elf – I’m pretty sure he didn’t say his name – and then the elf next to him took his hand so they could bow and walk together back to their seats.
Only Nathan wasn’t all that keen on heading back to his seat. The mic beckoned, and he snuck up to it and mumbled into it again before turning to go. Everyone laughed again. Realizing he had an audience, he stepped back to the mic, mumbled into it again, then turned to walk away. Everyone laughed. Believing they wanted yet another encore, he stepped back to the mic…and you get the picture.
Instead of tears of sorrow, I shed tears of laughter.
I’m not ready to say that I love kindergarten yet, but I don’t hate it like I thought I would. I knew Nathan’s teacher would be good for him, because we already knew her from Sarah Kate’s kindergarten year, and I liked Miss Allison right away. We lucked into knowing a few of the other kids, as well, for which I was thankful when I saw the class list.
The truth is they have all been good for him.
He is a little different, but they don’t mind. They embrace him and take care of him and fawn over him and rejoice in his victories – several of the kids told me before the program started that he had been saying his lines into the microphone, and their earnest expressions told me that they were proud and wanted me to be proud, too.
And I was proud. Proud of Nathan for doing what all the other kids were doing, and proud of the children for helping him along, and even a little bit proud of myself for Getting Over It and going to the program, despite my reservations. Things will eventually change – I know this, because I have a child in middle school now, and the chasm between kindergarten and seventh grade is deep – but for now, all is well.
Nathan knows how to captivate an audience.
Oh my gosh, Andi. I read the article during work and was bursting out laughing at Nathan being Nathan. Love reading the stories!
I laughed till I had tears – happy tears!!! I miss Sarah Kate stories, but this was just priceless!
I laughed too, but am also touched at how sweet the other children were with him, working as a team! 🙂
Oh Andrea, I loved Nathan’s Christmas story. It made me laugh and cry. Cry only because it was such a blessing to hear the story. I am enjoying hearing about your children so much. I smile and feel warm inside each time I see their faces and hear what is happening with them.
so darling! I had to watch this more than once. My son (3, also has Down syndrome) has his first school program this Thursday. Very curious to see how he does or if they have any lines/parts for him. It will be a preschool class of 3 &4 year olds so shall be interesting 🙂 Thanks for sharing!