Special Needs

Special needs? Yes, I had some this week. This was one of the most challenging weeks I’ve had both personally and professionally in a long time. I’d lost a dear friend just the week before to asthma and pneumonia, big changes were threatening the stability of my school; those changes happened so swiftly we hadn’t had time to prepare for them, and one of my student’s emotional stability was crumbling before my eyes in raging melt-downs earlier that day, so much so that I feared he might end up with a diagnosis of emotionally disturbed. I was trying to have faith, trying to think positive, trying to let logic win over emotion, faith and doubt collided the moment I sat down to read a story to my first graders.

After much roller-coaster riding, my emotions were winning and as I read the story, my voice began to crack.  I couldn’t squelch the tears that threatened to leak out, so I held the book in front of me and pointed to the illustrations and attempted to sound more animated. I could sense the kids wondering about the slight crack in my voice. They sat quietly, more quietly than normal; not one six-year-old giggle, not one six-year-old shout-out, nothing.

Nothing, until I felt a small gentle hand on my leg. My most needy student, one with a diagnosis of autism in the severe range, reached up and put his hand on top of my knee. I swallowed hard. It’s not unusual for the student to give hugs to anyone and everyone. He loves everybody and is much loved by all the children and staff.

I kept reading, pointing, and kept back the tears. The little boy got up, stood next to me and wrapped his arms around me, then rested his head gently on my shoulder. I reached up and patted his smooth black hair as the kids cooed in unison….”Awwwww….he’s so cute.”

I’ll admit, one small tear fell, but only one, and I told the kids the truth; it was because the little boy was so sweet.

I had at least ten more hugs that day, more than normal and gentler than the little boy’s usual enthusiastic bear hug.

I knew he had seen the emotional melt-down of the student earlier that day, had seen the student restrained and removed from class. It was this Special Needs student that stood up in the midst of the raging tantrum of  another boy, a boy with no diagnosis,  and forcefully told the rest of the class not to laugh at the child as the undiagnosed student kicked and screamed. It was this  Special Needs child who couldn’t put into words what he was feeling, but somehow sensed the way I was feeling and did something about it.

I gave him two things out of the classroom treasure box that day. When a student asked him why he got TWO things, he simply responded, “Because I coot (cute).”

Thank God for children who see life from a different perspective. I know why people say Special Needs children are a gift; it’s because they are!