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The Bittersweet

The Bittersweet

Last updated on: December 26, 2017 at 12:26 pm by Dilshad Ali

The Bittersweet 2017-12-26T12:26:28-04:00 Dilshad Ali

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This is Day 29 of the Ali Family #AutismTruths – April 29, 2017

Dear Friends,

The morning yes was spent at H’s elementary school for field day, volunteering at the frisbee-throwing station. Cute kindergartners, first graders and then second graders came through my station, taking turns throwing the frisbee into a goal. I cheered them on, laughed with them.

On the opposite end of the field the tug-of-war battles were happening, as class by class lined up to compete against each other in all sorts of configuration: first grade class versus first grade class, boys versus girls, students versus teachers. This competition is my favorite part of field day – watching the kiddos hold on with all their might, grunting, screaming and tugging until one collapse and cheers go up from the other side.

Later, I joined H and a bunch of his third-grade friends for lunch, where they hooted and hollered and peppered me with riddles. It was that kind of magical time where they were still young enough to think of me as “mom cool” and were eager to impress me with their third-grade humor. One of H’s friends hugged me as I came to sit with him, another high fived me in his glee. And, when I got up to leave, H hugged me goodbye.

I first attended a field day with D in public school when he was around seven years old. I went early to watch the opening ceremony, where the kids performed a dance. D and some other students from his autism class sat on the curb, looking seemingly uninterested in the excitement of the other kids unfolding before them.

D joined his classmates at some of the field day stations, with his aide helping him to complete the activities. Later he swung on the swings in the school playground while field day activities commenced around him. I pushed him and feigned exaggerated excitement, hoping to engage him in the fun happening around him.

I left that field day feeling like I felt after many, many activities I tried to join in with D throughout his school years – bittersweet about what was not to be versus what actually was.

Last year I attended D’s field day, which occurred at a local private school whose students paired up with autistic students from D’s school. By this point, well into his teen years, D didn’t need his mother hanging around, helping him. But I wanted to see him on field day again.

I sat on the lawn and watched D and his classmates engage in a softball game with the private school students. Teachers and aides from D’s school were scattered around the bases and field, helping the kids line up, hit the ball and run. Some of the students were obviously enjoying the game, bounding from base to base with excitement. Others ran at the encouragement of the students and teachers.

D went through the motions of the games at the prodding and coaxing of his teachers and peer partners. He didn’t seem into it at all – it was just another thing to do. I wondered what the point of it was – was his participation a way for me to feel like he was doing what other “neurotypical kids” were doing?

How much of it was for the students and how much for parents?

Bitter sweetness is a large part of field day and all activities D and his siblings partake in. When his siblings are part of a school production, play in a soccer game, perform in a spelling bee, go to a Model UN conference or do any school or after-school activity, a part of me always lingers for a moment on what they are doing and what D is not or cannot do.

When I attend any activity for D, whether it is a Special Olympics event, a play put on in his classroom, a homecoming party or yes, field day, I feel that same bittersweet feeling of how different his activities are from his siblings. It feels glaringly unfair to nurse this feeling, in small and large ways, with all the children. One should be able to love and cherish and enjoy all their different moments without feeling the bittersweet of what isn’t or what is.

But that’s an autism truth, too. For me, at least.

Sincerely,

Dilshad

Autism Awareness Month 2017

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