Put Me in Coach, I'm Ready to Play

There are certain things that when your child is on the spectrum you have to come to terms with that they may never occur for your child. Over the years I have watched with a heavy heart as a line of adorable children file in to sing for various programs. Many times it is hard to fight back the urge to cry, as my son is not one of them.

I admit, for years I have had a selfish longing to see my son perform. Oh, he does plenty of performing on his own at home. More often than not he is on stage singing and dancing and putting on a great show daily for us. Is it wrong that just once, I would like everyone else to see this side of my son?

So the pipe dream of Jacob being in the school talent show was never much of a reality for me.

We've been talking about the end of the school year talent show since last fall. One day I received a phone call from Jacob's principal at his new school. Jacob had been having a few rough weeks adjusting to the change of a new house, school, teachers, rules, and expectations. On this day Jacob had gotten in trouble, I believe for trying to climb the bathroom stalls at school. His punishment was to spend the remainder of the day in the Principal's office.

Now the principal at my son's school is pretty remarkable. With Jacob only being there a few months, she was still trying to figure Jacob out and the best approach with him. That day he sat for hours in her office doing his work, and as a reward if he worked hard for 30 minutes he could sing a song with her.

Sure enough, Jacob did it. I can envision him jamming with his principal singing "Gangnam Style"even now.

Those days of "hanging out" with the principal, built a trusting relationship between the two of them. And I think for her, she acquired a soft spot for my son. When she heard him sing, she was amazed by his voice and sense of rhythm and timing and began to plant the seed of Jacob singing in the talent show.

This was all back in October, and the end of the school year seemed light years away. I figured it would soon be forgotten, but more often than not when we would run into his principal, she would again ask Jacob if he would be in the talent show. Each time he would smile and say "yes".

Finally about a month ago, I sat down with Jacob one night and asked him if he honestly wanted to do the talent show, because if he did, we really needed to start working on something. He told me "no" and I took his word. As much as I would have loved for him to participate, it was about him, and if he didn't want to, I wasn't going to make him.

Then one afternoon about a week later, the phone rang. Great...it was the school, which typically means Jacob is sick, or has done something warranting a phone call home. Sure enough it was his principal.

"I have Jacob here in my office, and he wants to share something with you," she said.

"Ok...." I said hesitantly, I hate to say it, but bracing for the worst.

"Hi mommy," came a sweet voice on the other end.

"Ok, Jacob are you ready?" said the principal.

And then the music started, and right behind it was Jacob's sweet voice singing for me over the phone.

By the time he finished, I was crying. Jacob had spent the morning with his principal choosing a song for the talent show. We had about a week to practice with the music his principal had sent home.

Since the elementary school is so large, there would be a preliminary talent show for each grade, and then if you were asked, you could participate in the all school show. My hopes were just for that one moment, that Jacob would sing in front of his fellow second graders. He had been practicing and practicing and had it down perfectly. But would he actually do it?

The morning of the talent show arrived, and as we pulled out of the driveway to head to school, Jacob said with a huge grin on his face, "Today is going to be the best day ever! It's the talent show!" But before I could reply his face turned to a frown and he said, "but I'm not doing the talent show. I'm too scared."

I gave him a little pep talk on the short drive, dropped him off with a kiss, and said a prayer that he would be able to do it.

I wanted that moment.

The remainder of the day I was a bundle of nerves. Finally it was time for the show, and I arrived early to help Jacob dress in his baseball uniform. As I helped him pull on his long socks, I was amazed by my son's calmness. There was no talk of being scared or backing out. Instead he exuberated a confidence I envied.

I left Jacob with a kiss, and went to join his dad, the baby sister, and Jacob's aunt on the bleachers. I was nervous for my son. What if something went wrong? What if he got upset in front of the whole grade?

But he didn't. He took the stage as if he had done it a hundred times before. He sang just as he had every time at home. He nailed it.

The second graders loved it! And as all the students cheered, tears were running down my face. But not only mine. His dad, his aunt, his teachers, his principal, anyone who knew how far Jacob had come was also crying.

I had gotten my moment.

As Jacob stood beaming on stage, his principal announced "What do you say second graders, should Jacob do the all school talent show?" And as his peers continued to cheer him on, Jacob said yes that he would do it.

I can't even begin to describe to you how I felt that day. It was a wave of emotions and memories all at once. I remembered Jacob's first day of preschool and how he cried in the doorway of the gymnasium, too afraid to even enter the assembly. I remembered all the times I fought back tears as I watched other kids take the stage at any given event thinking it would never happen for Jacob, despite his musical talents. I remembered how over the years Jacob spent many assemblies at school sitting quietly in the library, or with whomever they could find to watch over him. It was always too much for him. Too loud, too many people, too many uncertainties.

A year ago my son wouldn't have walked in the gym. And now he had just sang in front of his grade and was preparing to sing in front of the entire school!

No longer did I want the moment for me. I realized all along I had wanted it for Jacob. I wanted it to give him the confidence that he can do anything he put his mind to. I wanted it so his peers could see him do something great, something that most of them wouldn't do themselves. I wanted it so all the teachers and faculty could see what Jacob was capable of doing with just the right guidance and a little nudge. I wanted everyone to see my son for who he really is.

And I wanted the world to see what Autism is and can be.

So here it is. I am happy to report that Jacob did in fact get up and sing in front of the entire school. He truly is "Ready to Play" and I hope this gives him the confidence he needs. This was Jacob's "Moment in the Sun".

Last night at bedtime, I laid down next to Jacob and told him how very proud I was of him. I told him how he did something that many people wouldn't be able to do, how I wasn't even sure if I could do it. I told him how brave he had been. I reminded him of how before he was scared to do things, and if ever he had those feelings of uncertainty wondering if he could do something, I wanted him to remember this moment. How great it felt to have the crowd cheering. How proud he was of himself. How truly amazing he was.

I kissed him and walked to the door.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Jacob," I said as I paused in the doorway.

"I was pretty amazing, wasn't I?"

"Oh, honey, you have no idea," I replied.

"Mommy," he said. "I know you could do it, too."

"They Should Have Cheered"



Jacob's Drawing of Jackie Robinson 

 

"I just don't get it, Mom."

"Some people may find it offensive, Jacob," I replied.

"But his face is black, and I am supposed to look like him," he insisted.

"No, Jacob, it could be taken as offensive," I repeated. "It's not a good idea to paint your face black."

"What's offensive?" Jacob asked.

Which began an extensive conversation. Much more than he probably bargained for as I went on to explain how years ago people were cruel and mean to people just because of the color of their skin.

Jacob was preparing for his first book report that he would present to the class. Originally he had drawn "Henry Ford" out of the hat, but took it upon himself to tell his teacher that he really didn't care about Ol' Henry. She graciously let Jacob pick from the stack of famous names, to which he was thrilled to find "Jackie Robinson" amongst them.

So in the last two weeks as he has been preparing his report, we have had many conversations about Jackie and how baseball has changed over the years.

"Mommy, did you know that Jackie Robinson was the first African American to play major league baseball?" Jacob excitedly asked on the way home from school that first day he had begun his research.

"And mommy, did you know that people 'booed' him when he would get up to bat?"

"I did know that. Isn't that awful?" I said.

"I don't get it," Jacob replied. "I could see if he struck out that they would 'boo' him, but he was one of the best hitters! Why would they 'boo' him?"

I went on to explain to him that people treated African Americans differently during that time, and just how wrong it was to act like that. We talked about how all people should be treated the same, even if they are different. We talked about the people that we knew that were different, and how those differences make them special.

I am thrilled that it is lost on my son. That he can't even begin to imagine a time where people would be cruel to someone just because of the color of their skin. Maybe there is hope that racism, or any kind of 'ism for that matter, is being phased out to the new generations.

And to my seven year old, it doesn't make any sense. He sees people as people. I almost didn't want him to know that such a time existed, as if by talking about it, it would draw attention to differences that he had never acknowledged.

The whole thing is so ironic. Here's this little boy who the world sees as different, yet he sees sameness amongst everyone. A boy who sees every minute detail and notices any small discrepancy, yet sees every person as an equal. A boy who wants more than anything to be accepted, yet accepts the world with no one person better or no one person less.

"I still don't get it," Jacob said again after discussing it for the umpteenth time, "He was the best hitter. They should have cheered."

I'm happy to report that Jacob did great on his book report. He dressed in his favorite team's uniform proudly representing the sport he loves most. His teacher later told me that Jacob volunteered to go first in the class. My son has come so far in just a year.

I wanted to share with you how Jacob ended his report.

"An important life lesson I learned is some people didn't like Jackie Robinson. If someone doesn't like you, don't give up."
 

 Simple yet wise words from a seven year old.

Yes, they should have cheered. I guarantee if Jacob had been present at any of Jackie's games oh so many years ago, he would have cheered. My only hope is that everyone will do the same for my son.

He Yells?

"So is Jacob special needs?"

I was taken aback. I'd never been out and out asked by anyone like that about my son. And I had especially never been asked by a child.

My husband and I were at our church for their parent's night out program that we participate in. It's a coop program, and it was our night to "babysit" instead of having a date night, so there we were with a room full of sixteen kids over the age of seven, with most of them being loud, giggling, screeching, girls.

Having only a three year old little girl, I am obviously not used to being around a room full of girls that age. Immediately I put a craft table into the works to diffuse some of the shrieky high squealing. All was good. My husband was entertaining half of the classroom by acting goofy, all the while helping Jacob create his own Twister game by piecing together colored circles on notebook paper since the mat had been misplaced. I had a table full of girls quietly making their own creation with hearts and rainbows galore. We had the situation under control. And that's when one of the older girls sitting across from me asked me the question.

I didn't know how to answer, I was so caught off guard. I realized as I looked up from my own glittery heart creation that the entire table of girls was staring at me quietly waiting for my answer.

"Well.....why do you ask?" I finally stammered out.

The girl instantly responded by saying, "I don't know. I just figured he was."

The rest of the table continued to stare. I was hesitant to answer. Although the girl inquiring barely knew Jacob and was only around him during this time once a month, many of the other girls knew Jacob much better and were closer to his age.

I mumbled something quietly saying we would talk later, hoping to get her alone at some point. But then I thought about it. Hadn't I always said that I wanted to teach others about Autism? Hadn't I always said that I wanted to educate EVERYONE to create acceptance and understanding? I had to be honest, and it was a great place to start.

By this point all the other girls were back to their stickers and glitter. The older girl was rambling on about how she enjoys "special needs kids" so much. They're so nice, so funny, yada yada.

"He has Aspergers," I said. "Jacob has Aspergers." not caring that she was still talking about her love for "special needs kids".

She heard me and stopped mid sentence and said, "Huh? What's that?"

"Have you ever heard of Autism? It's like that. Jacob has Autism," I replied.

"Oh yeah! I know what Autism is. That's when they are not very smart. So Jacob isn't very smart?"

Wow...this is what a twelve year old thinks of Autism? I figured when I said Autism she would have heard of it. It's a fairly common word nowadays, and an even more common diagnosis anymore. But "not smart"? And could she be any louder? The last thing I want is Jacob hearing his name and walking into the middle of this conversation. He wouldn't take too kindly to someone saying he wasn't smart. I looked over at Jacob taping his colored circles to the floor oblivious to the chaos of kids running circles around him.

"Actually Jacob is very smart," I told her. "Probably smarter than you, smarter than me, smarter than anyone in this room tonight." I wasn't bragging my son up to this girl. Nor was I saying it in a "my son's smarter than you are, na na na na na" way.  I just needed for her to know the truth about Autism. That it has nothing to do with "smarts". I went on to tell her in simple terms about Autism. That Jacob gets easily overwhelmed. That things bother him. That he likes things a certain way. That he gets nervous. That he doesn't always know how to act or what to say.

"Ohhhhhh....so that's why he yells at us! That makes sense!" she replied after soaking in all the information I gave her. Again, could she be any louder?

"He yells?" I asked. But the girl had moved on. She was now stringing bracelets for all the younger girls around her and had a captive audience. She either didn't hear me, or chose not to answer.

He yells.

My son yells and that's what his peers see and think of him.

I guess in my mind I had envisioned those nights where we dropped him and the baby sister off at church and my husband and I went out for a much needed 3 hours of quiet, much differently. I always ask Jacob about his night, and he always has plenty to share. I also make a point to ask the parent in the room about the evening, and always hear there were no problems. Sure more often than not Jacob decides to play a game or read a book versus watching the movie with his peers, but never has there been a mention of yelling.

I've known for a while it is coming. The day when we need to tell Jacob of his diagnosis, beyond what he already thinks. Jacob knows that he has things that bother him. He knows he takes medicine for those bothers. Jacob knows that there is a para in the classroom that usually helps him, but he doesn't realize that they are ONLY there for Jacob. He thinks he just happens to need help the most. Jacob knows that his brain sometimes thinks differently, but he thinks that is only because he is super smart.

I don't want there to be any shame for Jacob regarding his Aspergers diagnosis. Nor do I want him to ever use it as a crutch. And I certainly don't want him to think he is less because of his diagnosis. So I hope when the time comes to officially tell him, he can find his own strength and his own acceptance.

But for now I have to prepare myself because if this girl sees it, then most likely all his peers are starting to see it. Next time I won't be caught off guard.

Because let's be honest. Yes, my son has special needs. And yes, he yells.

Although, I still don't think he could ever yell as loud as a room full of preteen girls.