You’ve read poetry by the remarkable Dee Thompson before (Swimming in Darkness). Not only does she write with spectacular love and understanding, but her site (The Crab Chronicles)
is a treasure trove of resources for those who are anywhere at all in
the process of adopting a special needs child. Let’s dedicate this
inward-reaching poem to all children starting at a new school this year
and to the parents that are sending them into the unknown. And let’s
send Dee a cosmic hug as she sets off for the Decatur Book Festival this weekend! She will be speaking and signing copies of her book, Adopting Alesia: My Crusade for My Russian Daughter, available at her web site.
How to Send Your Child to a New School
By Dee Thompson
I sometimes write for a web site called eHow, but this
is not something I can write for them.
I can write the steps, sure:
Buy school supplies, buy school clothes, write name in agenda, etc.
Tuck child into bed, after reading a chapter of Harry Potter.
Wake child up early, and promise him a cinnamon roll
if he will shower and dress and come downstairs.
All those steps are the easy ones.
Here are the hard steps.
How do I look at my son’s face and tell him Everything Will Be OK?
How can I assure him he will understand everything, when there are still thousands of English words he does not know?
How can I hope he will be treated like anyone else when there is no
forearm or hand coming from the right sleeve of his tee shirt?
How can I tell him today will be different? No child will tease you. No
child will ask you what happened to your hand. No child will ask you
why you talk funny.
No reassurances are really possible.
How can I tell him to hang out with the Good Kids, when he sees himself as a Bad Kid?
How well I remember being the fat kid, the kid with weird clothes, the
kid who was too tall, the kid with the funny glasses. I was all of
those. I was whole though.
My daughter blazes out the door early, beautiful and excited. My son and I go upstairs to brush teeth.
I spend time just holding my son and rubbing his back. My 13-year-old baby.
“You many not have all the things those other kids have, but you have three people who love you.”
He smiles.
I drop him off and drive away and do not look back.
Dee,there are no words to tell you how much your poem touched me; how long it to for the tears to stop so I could write to thank you for your poem.