self & standards
April 16, 2013 § 6 Comments
For those rare friends who have followed me among my thoughts, there is an unfortunate pattern of peer centered heartache that accompanies my son’s experiences as a student. Invisible handicaps create false expectations of sameness and unfair intolerance for differences. I try to navigate this space patiently, guiding my son into awareness of his differences and tolerance for other’s ignorance. Some days are easier than others.
Today should have been a happy day. We gathered as a family in the early morning light to welcome my son’s birthday, a calendar milestone, over cake and cards. Knowing my husband had to leave town for work it was important that we marked this moment collectively before scattering into the day to our own agendas. I agreed to steal a moment from the day to share lunch with my son, just the two of us.
I spent part of my morning distracted by the happy busyness of reading with my daughter’s classmates. The quiet joy was punctuated by an unexpected fire drill and I marveled at the choreographed calmness of the elementary aged children not yet aware my peacefulness would be jarred by the silent alarms that sound in our hearts.
At noon I felt the trouble before I could see it. My son was guarded, eyes breaking contact; arms moving mechanically, jutting at the sides like he was pushing at the air around him. He moved with intention away from school, breathing only once we were alone, outside the building. In sentences, broken and rambling fluidly among tears he gave me his heartache whole. I gathered pieces of the harm into a linear thought, extracting connections with questions and trying to lend comfort.
Then, with the wisdom that so often makes me a student of my son’s character, he said: I don’t understand. People say that when I am 30 these kids will respect and admire me for all the things that make me different. So why don’t they like me now if they will later? If there’s nothing wrong with me, what is the difference?
I wanted to say that children mature into adults who learn to appreciate diversity through experience, but I have sung similar refrains of hope and encouragement in elementary school expecting middle school would be better. Time has not made children more accepting, instead we have become exhausted by the tiny injustices, old harms, that accompany us into new experiences.
Rather than explain away misbehavior as predictable, common place, or normal adolescent error I am starting to ask for special treatment. Themes of misconduct, consistent and intentional, dare not be explained away as a phase or rite of passage. Unacceptable norms demand exceptional moments of nonconformity.
Tonight I am redirecting our discontent into a celebration of the wise soul who sees the world for how it should be, not limiting himself by the standards of others. Marveling at the gift of conscious living his life has given me.
scribblechic 
A heartbreaking question for a son to ask a parent- but like you said, a wise soul.
Thank you. In this moment the question felt greater than any answer I might provide.
Parenthood does bring those moments of pain along with the many ones of Joy and Hope. All we can do is stick to our principles, balance our actions (that is, pick our battles) and power on.
Wise words. Thank you.
So heartbreaking. My daughter deals with ignorance whenever anyone finds out her parents don’t look like her. She’s Chinese and was adopted. People say all kinds of ignorant things to her. If it means anything, I really do think that high school is when the old misunderstanding seems to melt away. My son and his friends are very diverse and very accepting of each other. Of course, it’s a bigger pond and the groups are more fluid so it’s easier for kids to find a place where they belong and no one cares about their differences. Hang on.
Thank you for words of comfort at a difficult time. Today we faced a new conflict and this reassurance gave me hope.