Inclusion

I wasn’t a mean child, but I wasn’t an overly nice one either.  I was always very aware of trying to fit in with the “it” group.  Even as far back as grade school.  I am forever worried about how Bella will fit in as she grows older.  I have memories from late grade school of a boy, who was probably my age, who was wheelchair bound and would sit outside during my recess period.  I don’t ever remember other children being around him.  I just remember him slumped over in his chair and he would drool with his head to the side.  Even though he might have been my same age and in my class, I was never introduced to him.  The school chose to keep the special education kids in separate classes.  I can’t really say how I would have acted towards him had he been in my actual classes and had we interacted with him.

Bella’s school is inclusive and they try to keep the special needs children in the same classes as regular children as much as possible.  She is only in preschool now, so I’m not sure how things will change once she starts kindergarten.  But I can tell you there is a huge difference from what I hear when I am with Bella.  Most of the kids in her class will come up and say hi to her, and even some kids who are in other preschool classes will come up to her.  And beyond that, even kids in older classes know who she is.  Some will say hi and hold open the door for us, when I am wheeling her in.  Some if they are with their parents will say to their parents “That’s Bella”.  They see her both as a person and as a person who is different from them.

Most children who are not around her and see her for the first time can only see the wheelchair.  I often hear them asking their parents why she is in the chair, “What’s wrong with her?”  It’s often interesting to hear the answers the parents give.  I usually don’t mind whatever they come up with as long as it isn’t “she is a baby.”  I’ve heard that a few times and wondered why they just couldn’t say something about her being different than them and not being able to walk.  I’m fairly certain she doesn’t look like a baby anymore.  This week a child made me chuckle when they asked their parent why “that girl is in a wheelchair and she doesn’t have a broken leg.”  I didn’t hear the answer as we were just walking by.

I often think about that boy in my class and pray that Bella will have a better experience at school than he did.  And I hope there will be kids better than I was at that age that will interact with her and be her friends.