Daddy, I Do Not Understand

Topic: Write a story about a child overhearing something they do not understand.

Daddy, I Do Not Understand

Young children are mini sponges on what they see and hear from others around them. They have an amazing sense of awareness on how others perceive them.  With my child I try my best to exhibit my best behavior especially at controlling my speech and actions regardless of the situation. Unfortunately, when the child enters school, that all goes out the window and my control is totally lost. Often, I have to do damage control. It gets progressively harder as my child gets older and moves up the grade levels in school. It is even more compounded when a child has a significant disability of any sort.

A significant majority of parents would do anything to protect their children offering the best possible route to success. I am no different. My wife and I were elated when my daughter Elise was born. During her birth there were complications however.  She had a cleft of the soft-palate, a heart murmur along with some neurological issues.  Her cleft was surgically repaired and was confined entirely inside of her mouth. Aside from the soft-palate cleft however, there were no other overt physical abnormalities that would indicate an impaired individual such as in Down’s Syndrome. She did not possess the characteristic flattened face, almond eyes, short neck, small ears, protruding tongue often noted in that condition. 

Her very early years presented some challenges with respect to bottle feeding, muscle development, and speech development.  It was difficult for her to express herself vocally when she was hungry or had to be changed.  Initially, she would cry, but occasionally when we failed to respond immediately she internalized her anxiety. When she turned three, she was capable of limited mobility using her two legs aided with a child’s walker. I noticed that our daughter became very attentive to our conversations between my wife and me. I do not believe for the most part she understood what we were discussing.  However, this thought would cause us much anxiety as she would get a bit older.

My daughter’s slow motor and speech development caused my wife and I many troubled nights.  We felt we needed to have Elise assessed by some specialists aside from her pediatrician. It was a veritable revolving door with psychologists, clinical social therapists, psychiatrists, and neurologists. Each specialist had his/her own assessment of Elise’s difficulties. It began to turn into a shopping list of conditions: obsessive compulsion, onset of Tourette’s, mood instability, anxiety, depression, and cognitive impairment. Thankfully, no lesions were evident on her brain scan. We were deeply distressed at the nature and number of psychotropic medications the psychiatrist and neurologist had prescribed for her. Given her young age we had to trust the professionals as we felt they knew better how to help her.

With the medications, the sociologists urged us to get her enrolled in kindergarten to assimilate with other “normal” children. “Normal”? I wondered what that really meant? My wife and I did not have the financial resources to provide Elise with personal instruction or to send her to private school.  Elise would attend a public elementary school from kindergarten to fifth grade. We lived outside the school district but bus service would be provided for Elise. She was now turning six and this would be her first exposure to other children for an extended period of time, and riding on a bus with complete strangers. On her first day I could see the look of anticipation in Elise’s face. On the other hand, my wife and I had anxiety written all over our faces. Thankfully, Elise did not pick up on our apprehension.

We anxiously awaited her return from her first day at the bus stop. She cautiously walked down the steps of the bus. I heard some loud chatter and jeering as she disembarked.  There was a blank expression on Elise’s face. She seemed indifferent to the noises.  My wife and I gently tried to interrogate Elise on how her first day went. It was difficult for her to express herself. We could determine that she played with some blocks and a few toys. My wife questioned if she had met any of the other children. Elise shook her head no. We felt that it would make sense to accompany Elise to school the next day to understand her surroundings and observe her interactions. First though, my wife had to request permission to attend her class.  Elise’s teacher was still at the school when we called. The three of us were gathered in the living room when my wife made the call. Elise was drawing with crayons. Thinking it would be a short call, my wife put it on speaker phone so I could hear.  After exchanging a few intros and pleasantries, I asked about how Elise seemed to handle her first day in kindergarten. 

The teacher did not mince words coming directly to the point. She said “even though it was her first day Elise seemed to be emotionally disturbed, mentally slow, and socially challenged. She just sat in a chair and did nothing.  She would not interact with the other kids even during recess.” The teacher curtly added, “it would be helpful to see this in person for yourselves.” I responded politely saying we would be there in the morning with Elise.  After the call, Elise looked up from her picture and sadly asked me, “Daddy, I do not understand.” Hoping Elise would give some clarity I asked her what she meant. As soon as I said it, I realized she does not have the ability to cognitively process my question. Instead of providing some form of answer I ushered her off to bed telling her we will see the teacher at school tomorrow.

The night lingered. It was time to venture off to the school. We decided to let Elise take the bus and we would meet her at the school. Once we arrived, we were ushered into an adjoining room off her classroom before Elise got there. The teacher asked us to give her some time to adjust. The door was left ajar for us to observe her. The room was abuzz with chaos and chatter. Once Elise came in the room it became eerily quiet. A few were whispering and pointing at Elise.  Elise sat down in a chair toward the back of the room. The next fifteen minutes seemed like an eternity for us. No one would dare to talk to her. Elise picked up a toy block off the floor and held it tightly in her fist.  Our hearts just ached at seeing this.

Elise saw that the door to the adjoining room was ajar. She noticed us sitting in there and her face became one large smile from ear to ear. Elise scrambled in my lap and gave me a big hug. She said to me “Daddy, I do not understand. On the bus the bigger kids call me a retard. They call me stupid. They call me dumb. No one wants to play with me in my class.” My wife had tears in her eyes. My heart skipped several beats. I thought I would be an emotional mess.

We left for home that day. 

I ruminated in my mind how to explain this to her.  Her ability to comprehend was limited, so using an old adage such as ‘Sticks and stone will break my bones, but names cannot hurt me,’ would be wasted breath.  We simply told her and showed her with lots of hugs and kisses how much we loved her.  No one can take that love away from her no matter what they would say. We reminded her how unique and special she is to us. I added, “Sometimes it takes certain people to understand how special she is and to know some people will be wrong about their feeling toward her because maybe in their lives they do not have deep love from their Mommy and Daddy like you do, Elise.”

The following day I wrote to the school board about our daughter’s experience. I felt I needed to vent and bring the obvious to light. Here is an excerpt of what I wrote:

“Teaching is a tough job and it becomes even more complicated by the diversity that exists in schools today. Children having different cultures, lifestyles, ethnicities, and religions fill up the classrooms. How is it possible to balance such a menagerie of people? Add onto the mix those individuals who suffer physical and mental disabilities. Sometimes those disabilities are readily obvious. Occasionally, they are not.  Placing disabled individuals into special education classes has some merit. But it is a segregation plan that can be isolationistic for the person’s future when they must assimilate into society.

The answer invariably comes back to the parents! If we as parents do not accept the differences of others then how can we expect our children to do the same? Parents (and school board members), I implore you to show the unconditional love to your children so that your love can be your legacy they pass onto others.”

Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. (1 John 4:7, NIV)

And so, we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them. (1 John 4:16, NIV)

Acknowledgement: Reedsy.com

(NIV, New international Version)