Old Math

Last summer I worked with the school district summer school program with kids with severe needs. It was a great experience, a skilled and coordinated team and another volunteer beside myself so we had an adult to work with each child.

One of the children was D., about six years old, a tiny, cute girl with CdLS, a genetic disorder. She was mute but taught me a few American Sign Language signs. She could be very funny, when she heard some music she liked she would start a dance that would crack us all up. She was a "runner", a child who would take off as soon as your back was turned, but that was no distinction; all of the kids in the class were runners except the ones that were wheelchair bound. Mentally she was still a baby, which is part of the charm of these kids.

One of the teachers I worked for sent me an e-mail this morning telling me D. died on Christmas Day. I thought of D.'s father who took time from work every day to bring her into the classroom and had such obvious love for the girl, such happiness to be with her. I stand in awe of some of the parents of these children, what might seem a heavy burden becomes a shawl of beauty and grace on their shoulders. This is what it means to be a good person.

Since I have started working with the severe needs group there have been three funerals of kids that were in the program, this will be the first for a child I knew personally. It is an aspect of the work I had not considered, it is grievous news to any teacher to learn one of their pupils has died; in loco parentis means in the place of the parent and I can't imagine anything more devastating than the death of a child. For most teachers it is a rare occurrence, for a person working with kids with severe disabilities it is a regular thing. One more reason to admire those people, I still feel privileged that they have included me in their group.