I Guess You Never Know

This morning I unexpectedly had to go to Jane's preschool and help prepare for an upcoming event.  I had signed up to do this, but there was a mix up with the date and the director kept apologizing for her mistake.  I decided to just get it over with since all I really had to do was mix up some stuff and chat with a couple of other moms and the director (we weren't with the kids).

Within minutes of arriving, we got into a conversation about the Parenting Consultant that Matt and I had seen over three years ago, during the summer of 2005. Before I realized it, I was telling the director the whole sorted story of Scott's SPD diagnosis and his terrible year in pre-Kindergarten (at a different preschool).

Turns out her son, who is now 28, had developmental delays and learning disabilities, including severe auditory processing problems.  She wanted to know how we got through it, how he was doing now.  She had such kind words for his struggles and the difficult road we had traveled.

The preschool that Jane attends has a reputation for being a perfect place.  One where parents never complain and the director constantly touts how awesome all her teachers and programs are.  In order to secure a spot for your child, you have to put their name on the waiting list before the child is even born.  It is both wonderful and a bit over-the-top.  In the beginning I would sit in meetings and roll my eyes listening to the sappy drivel.

But Jane is as happy as can be.  She loves school, adores her teachers and is learning.  The school is superior to the one Scott attended, of this I am sure.  But I've often wondered if he would have fit in at Jane's school.  The kids all seem so well behaved; absent are the type of children with issues. 

The idea did cross my mind that the director had weeded those children out so as to preserve her Utopian environment.  And I always suspected that she would have judged me just as the director and teachers had at Scott's school.  As a mother who was looking for excuses for her child's poor behavior.  As a failure.

But today, as I fixed up bags of reindeer food, this director and I talked mom to mom.  About how hard it is to be a parent.  About what it was like to discover that your child has problems.  How alone and confused we both felt.  About some of the challenges she faced and some of the issues we are currently dealing with.

She said her son was her second child, the one that had to follow the perfect first born.  She knew there were issues when he was barely two and they had been through the wringer.  But he was, "the one that made me a good mom.  That taught me how to be patient, compassionate, a better person."  I nodded in agreement, understanding what she was saying, thinking of an e-mail I had sent a friend recently where I wrote:

Jane loves school and Scott, well, is Scott. He finds issues with everything.  But is doing well.  And he just continues to be such a unique, interesting kid.  My heart and my inspiration.  Jane is lovely.  Scott is a lot of work but in that "the hardest job you'll ever love" kind of way.

I was glad for the scheduling mix up and the opportunity to see this woman differently.  And to be reminded that I shouldn't be judging or jumping to conclusions, either.  That you just never know when the person who seems to be the least likely to understand turns out to be the complete opposite.

Comments

[Niksmom]

How wonderful that you had this experience. Yay for the director, too!

[Patty]

This post really cheered me up for some reason. I just received a scathingly judgmental email from the nursery leader at church regarding my parenting and it made me sick to my stomach with frustration and anger. Your post was so refreshing and a good reminder that there are really good people out there who try to undertand others, who are empathetic and that I shouldn't give up on all humanity because of one woman. Thanks.

[InTheFastLane]

What a great visit and a reminder of the fact that all of us have stories that aren't always obvious.

[floating in space]

I will be forever grateful to the director of that school. The first time I met her I found myself telling her all of my concerns about Kate. She is the person who gave me the phone number for early intervention and urged me to call a developmental pediatrician. She said to me that day, "If you don't advocate for your child, who will?" Those words have stayed with me.