constructive criticism
March 8, 2012 § 2 Comments
Teachers and specialists have assured me it is quite normal for a sibling of a child with special needs to become a miniature caregiver. In this respect my daughter is exceptionally normal. From the time she was born I would follow behind my son trying to help facilitate social experiences. I would watch to note his strengths and identify areas of concern that we might later role play or work through; uncomfortable dialogue and mannerisms that created conflict among peers. My daughter grew naturally from a witness to these exchanges into a tiny tutor in the subject of social behavior; actively identifying and demonstrating proper behavior in different settings.
Some days my daughter will guide her big brother with one hand on the small of his back, speaking quietly just behind him. She cues expectations naturally, predicting and translating his environment. She does this with love and frustration. At times she wishes him her equal and resents the imbalance her older brother’s needs create. Other times she is his greatest champion, defending him against unkindness and following in his shadow marveling at his interests.
My daughter has her own needs that have gifted her unique experiences outside the norm among peers. Sensitive and aware she aligns herself in the company of children sometimes marginalized and stands true in her beliefs in the face of other’s opinions. Recently she lent me constructive criticism for my own social behavior.
It began when another parent initiated a conversation outside my daughter’s school. I could not wriggle free of the exchange and found myself taking hurried steps toward the back of the building where my daughter meets me daily. I was late and she was angry. Frustrated by the distraction my daughter offered me a social script. She instructed me that in moments when I cannot be rude and I have a commitment to say: I’m sorry but my daughter is waiting for me. I need to go. She offered me the solution so naturally I had to remind myself to answer. Quickly I acknowledged the polite and appropriate language as well as the gentle reminder that she rightfully wants to be my first priority at the end of her school day. Then I pulled my daughter into a hug and celebrated her ability to recognize a problem, offer a solution, and share her feelings confidently. Internally I marveled at how quickly I had become her student.
It was a small moment on the outside, but my daughter’s ability to help others navigate the unspoken social rules that complicate simple exchanges is extraordinary. I pause here to admire the way in which she guides us all with a gentle heart and a quiet certainty, kindness and conviction.
scribblechic 
Thank the Lord for brilliant children!
Their wisdom is uncensored and uncluttered. I cannot remember life before motherhood, but I am certain it was infinitely less interesting.