Quiet pings of exclusion linger in the air
As special needs parents, we often feel shifts in our presence of quiet pings of exclusion.
These pings happen before we have a diagnosis, and daycare providers or teachers start talking to us about our child’s development. They look down or away as they explain how your child doesn’t fit in or ask questions about any new changes at home causing behavioral disruption. They comb over all the differences in daily comments on sheets sent home or group photos taken of the children at circle time with views of our children playing off to the side by themselves. They say things like, “the other children are being patient with our child.”
I have cried over these forms sent home with causal one-sentence lines highlighting the differences. I have sat in school meetings, shocked at discussing my sweet child not fitting into a program. I have watched signs displayed asking parents to make sure the gate to the street was fully closed because they had a child that would leave the playground if it was left open, knowing who the sign was about. These discussions taking place as we walked through a field of roadblocks to get answers about what was genuinely surfacing before our eyes.
It also happens at social gatherings where you walk in fitting in until your child sees a line of balloons tied to chairs and is filled with such exploration that they need to hold it in their hand.
I have been at birthday parties where I quietly snapped a balloon off the back of a chair and tied it to my son’s wrist without permission. His joy in that balloon was worth every side glance coming in my direction. Yes I have stolen a balloon at the child’s birthday party to avoid going home early because, well, we do what we can.
It also happens when strangers in your presence use a phrase like “what are you retarded” or any number of other slang terms directed at someone with a disability. What once was slightly offensive now makes your heart skip a beat. When a term used in a casual conversation carries so much weight, it cuts through the air, and you want to climb into the conversation to explain how genuinely heartbreaking it is to hear.
These strong misused words in private conversations or even in shared conversations have a lasting impact. Thoughts begin flowing through our minds after we hear the words, and we wonder if our reaction to what was said was the right one. Did we say enough to make it clear that it wasn’t ok?
Times have shifted, things have changed, we are more aware of how our words impact others than we were before. Society is making an effort to provide platforms for discussions about these things. Yet, these daily pings of exclusion are still lingering in the air.
For the parent who is waking a tight rope of feelings, for the child who hears the words about them as a person, for the disabled adult who faces the world every day navigating challenges of misunderstanding, please think twice about the words that flow loudly in casual conversations.
If you are a provider or teacher and need to talk to a parent about their child’s development maybe follow it up with what the child does well.
If you are at a birthday party and see a parent snap a balloon off the back of the chair, maybe instead of giving a side glance, you snap one off too or give them an approving head nod, or thumbs up. Know that it isn’t to appease a small child’s wants. It’s to stay a little longer and enjoy the happy birthday celebration.
If you are a person who uses a slang term for someone with a disability, maybe erase the word from your vocabulary. We don’t know what someone else is going through and how our words can impact the listening ear.
Many people climb mountains of pings of adversity every day. We are feeling excluded even when words are not spoken. I hope we can reflect on our choices and vocabulary to erase or soften some of the daily pings. The more we try to draw others in the less we consciously push them out.
© 2021, Tabitha Cabrera. All rights reserved.
