Ask me anything!

“Why is he like that?” a child asked innocently as she pointed to my son in his wheelchair. “Why does he have that thing?” pointing to his tablet.

I explain that he was born a little different and he uses his tablet to talk, making sure to add that he likes to watch football and is a big superhero buff. “I like that too!” the child replies.

Just like that, the world gets a little smaller and less lonely.

I love when kids approach us and ask those questions! Children are naturally curious, and I believe that young children are naturally inclusive. Throughout his years in school, there has never been a shortage of friends who are willing and eager to walk beside him, discover ways to make him laugh, push him on the swing, high five as they pass in the hall way.

I call those blessings, but there’s another name for it: inclusion.

My son has attended an inclusion school since kindergarten, this year he starts fourth grade. he has a paraprofessional who accompanies him into class and teachers who consider him as every other student. The result of his presence in class being normalized by the adults around him is that the students also find it very ordinary to have children with different abilities in their groups.

I could go on all day about the gift this has been to my son, and to me, because when I show up at his school, I never see a strange look directed his way. Never hear an unkind word spoken about him. He’s always in the middle of whatever the action is, whether in class or on the playground. Just where he wants to be, my little social butterfly.

It’s tricky being a social butterfly when you have different wings.

Not everyone in the world has the patience to wait while he plunks out his feelings on a tablet screen.

Not everyone understands that his speech difficulties say nothing about his intelligence. He’s not a baby, and he’s not clueless, he’s not even speechless — he just has to speak using a different skill.

I thought everything was accessible these days?

Not everyone realizes that there is a difference between accessible and inclusive. Let me give you an example that a friend recently described. For a playground to meet the written requirements of accessibility legally, it has to have a paved path. What it is not required to have is an accessible swing, equipment that a wheelchair can roll on, a slide that I don’t have to be the Hulk to hoist him onto. He can do no more at that park but sit and watch — not play.

We used to have a van with a wheelchair lift. When we go to the grocery store with a lift on our van, and park in the accessible parking space labeled “van”, very often the yellow lines beside the space provide insufficient room for our lift to open if there’s a car parked in the adjacent space. Even accessible spaces often aren’t really inclusive. Don’t get me started on the spaces with NO yellow lines at all.

My son’s class was attending their school play, and I showed up to sit with him. As his classmates filed in, they were seated together in rows, but the spaces for wheelchairs were at the back of the auditorium. My second grader sat with an adult at the back while his friends got to enjoy the play as a group. It seems like a small thing, but for a social butterfly with different wings, it matters.

This is beginning to sound like a rant, and it is not intended to be a rant. These are things that never crossed my mind before I gave birth to my son, or even after I had him, before he was old enough to think about these things. My intent is to speak about how important inclusion is.

Saving the butterfly

We were at the school garden, volunteering time one day, and my other son, the brother of my differently abled child, found a butterfly with a wing injury on the ground. Poor little thing doesn’t stand much chance in the wild. He came and asked me what kind of flowers it likes and then settled it in the greenhouse on a blooming plant in the hope — as vain as it was kind — that the little butterfly would have food while it healed in a sheltered place. It was so kind and my mother’s heart swelled.

Many people would have left it alone. Some might even have squashed it to put it out of its misery.

That butterfly is my son. He has the ability to soar, but he does it with different wings. Some cities, some schools, are still living without inclusion, and a lot of people don’t know that.

These butterflies I’m talking about, our differently abled children, are beautiful and the world will miss out on knowing them if something doesn’t change. A generation of children could miss out on friendships that expand their point of view. A future work force could lose the opportunity to see that everyone has purpose and everyone has something important to offer the world. A generation of butterflies could go through life with their wings clipped.

Let’s not allow that to happen. Let’s be the inclusive generation, and raise the next.

How? Here are just a few of many ideas! They spell out ABLE:

• Ask! If you aren’t sure if something is inclusive, ask. Most of us moms are approachable and are very used to explaining our child’s needs. Ask, “If we meet at that playground, is there equipment he can use?” or ask the child, “What are your favorite things to do with friends?” You may find no one is very different after all.
• Believe! Assume that it’s doable. Assume a mom will say yes to the invitation, that there is a food that isn’t even fancy that a differently winged child can eat. Assume it will be easier than you may imagine.
• Lead! Be the first to ask, be open to someone new in your circle.
• Enjoy! Take joy in learning all you can about new friends and their abilities, hobbies, goals and dreams.

When we are inclusive, we find that we are all a little broken but we can still lift each other and soar to new horizons. Together we can fill the world with beauty.

Comment below about ways you are practicing inclusion and ideas for ways we can all build a more inclusive and diverse world!