Invisible Children with Tender Hearts is a post about children with special challenges that are not visible to the eye, such as ADHD, anxiety, Aspergers, or social skills deficits. I recalled situations when my daughter had encountered rude or uncaring individuals. Today I want to reveal the heroes–of which there are many.
Parents of special needs kids have the fortune of meeting many supportive and giving individuals through their child. I initially called these special people invisible heroes, but now realize they are actually quite visible. They are teachers, coaches, principals, therapists, and consultants. They are very visible, but they are silent about the gifts they bring to our children. They believe they are “just” doing their jobs, but we parents know they are doing so much more.
First, I need to acknowledge that this is a bittersweet day for me. My daughter has been unable to attend school for over a year. She has been receiving home instruction from two teachers every day. We were waiting for a slot to open for her this summer at a selected school. Well, today is her first day back in school. She is back with kids her own age in a classroom that includes all the fun and excitement that home instruction just can’t offer.
I feel like I have been waiting for this day for an eternity. Now that it is here, I am thrilled for her, but also a bit sad. This morning I looked at the empty dining room table. Books, paper and pens, white board, and all the necessary teaching materials are now cleared away. What can’t be as easily cleared are the memories of her two teachers. These two wonderful teachers felt a huge commitment to my daughter. Ms. T held the standards high and would not give rewards unless truly earned. Ms. R would work on the math skills, over and over no matter how frustrating the experience. Thank you.
There are two schools up to this point that have been incredible with their support for my daughter and her education. My husband and I have always said that if we hit the lottery, these schools would receive a huge donation. The first recipient of our wishful lottery donation would be my daughter’s third preschool. This was her third preschool because the first two did not want to deal with my daughter’s needs and with the aid that accompanied her.
The director of this third preschool held the belief that children with special needs are not going anywhere, i.e., they will grow up and live in our society. She thought it was good for the other children to learn to be tolerant of those with special challenges. She also believed that if all preschools would do their share and take in two to three children with special needs, there would be a place for everyone. To this visible but silent hero, I give you the first donation from our faux lottery winnings and a big thank you.
Fifth grade was the year that we looked for a new school. By sheer luck we found a small, private school that kept their classroom size small. Not only did the principal do an incredible job of hiring kind-hearted and talented teachers, but each classroom had one to two aides to assist each teacher. The school’s goal is to teach each child at their level and they customize math and reading to fit the student’s need. To this visible but silent set of heroes, I give you the second donation from our faux lottery winnings and a big thank you.
Since my daughter was four-years-old, I have been blessed to have the most wonderful and generous behaviorist on-board as a consultant. Nine years later, I still call her. Six months may have elapsed from the last time we spoke or six minutes, but she is always available to share her pool of wisdom. Not only is she extremely generous with her time, but she keeps her rates ridiculously low. She knows that parents are stretched and do not get reimbursed for her services, so she tries to be fair—and she is more than fair. I was going to give this visible but silent hero a thank you, but I just talked myself into giving her a chunk of our faux lottery winnings too!
My daughter’s third grade teacher was an extremely bright and compassionate woman. As a mother of child with special challenges, she had a heart for these children, but also held the bar high. Some of our kids find themselves never being chosen for anything. This teacher was well aware of this. She selected my child to participate in the Christmas play, beyond just the choir. My daughter was ecstatic and would not tell me her role. I had to wait until I saw the play.
The day of the play came and I was so excited to attend. The middle of the way through the play, two children read the story of the birth of Jesus. As they came to certain parts of the story, my daughter would take out a nativity character and put it in place. She handled the job perfectly and placed each character with pride and precision. Mrs. 3rd grade teacher, thank you and you may also collect some of our faux lottery winnings.
I could go on and on, which I guess is a good thing. There have been many kind people and having a child with special needs can actually renew your faith in humanity.
- To the psychiatrist that responds to my emails, even on weekends, thank you.
- To the other psychiatrist who answers his phone directly when I call, thank you.
- To the countless tutors who came to our home, Monday through Saturday to teach things over and over again, thank you.
- To the doctors who really had no room for us in their practice but squeezed us in anyway, thank you.
- For the soccer coach who would run behind the entire team just so that my daughter was not left alone, thank you.
- And today in particular, to our school district who agreed to the therapeutic school that fits our daughter’s needs the best, thank you.
You know what? I feel so happy and generous today that you all will also collect some of our faux lottery winnings. I guess I now find myself monetarily quite poor—having given our entire lottery winnings (fake as it may be!) away. But you all have enriched our lives beyond words. I think of you often and remember your kindnesses. If I can give just a little of this back to other parents, then the cycle will continue.
You visible but silent heroes did not have to do what you did. But you somehow understood my daughter with her invisible special needs and you embraced her. To all you visible but silent heroes, you repair our children’s hearts and build them up by one kind action after another. Thank you and may you be repaid in kindness and end up as blessed as you have made me.
About Danette Schott, M.A.
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