I started reading a new book today called Unglued: Making Wise Choices in the Midst of Raw Emotions by Lysa TerKeurst. They've been talking about it and with the author on KLove this week and it sounded like something I've been needing to hear. I'm only on the 2nd chapter right now, but it's already hitting home.
L is starting Kindergarten this year, in thirteen days to be exact. I'm nervous. I'm scared. I'm excited. I'm anxious. My biggest source of anxiety, however, comes from deciding whether or not to talk to her class about her Fragile X, about what makes her behave the way she does, talk the way she does, do anything the way she does. It's something that I think should be done, but is it something I want to do?
The answer was thrown at me full force today. I realize I don't have a choice.
When I went to pick L up from daycare today, the teacher in her room called me over. This particular teacher is not the one that's normally in there. L had her previously and she is K's teacher now, so she knows L well, loves her immensely, and thinks of L as her own. This particular teacher understands L and wants to protect her. And for that, today especially, I can not thank her enough.
It appears as though a little boy made L cry today. I'm not 100% sure what the circumstances were or how it all started, but he began to make fun of L because she "still wears a diaper". He proceeded to call her a baby, pointed at her, and laughed. When she began to cry and say "I'm not a baby", he antagonized her even more.
The teacher, upon hearing a commotion, approached them and found out what was happening. She immediately reprimanded the boy and allowed L to go to her safe place to cry it out. When the teacher explained to him that L had special needs and wasn't able to use the potty yet, he said, "She's stupid!" and started laughing.
Thank goodness, when the teacher told the boy's dad about this, he was pissed and said, "Rest assured, I will take care of this!"
In the meantime, I have a little girl whose feelings have been hurt and she was able to comprehend what was happening in that moment, enough to be brought to tears.
I realized today that the choice has been made for me. I must talk to L's class when she starts school in two weeks. I've always been afraid, but as Lysa says in her book, "What kept me from making changes was the feeling that I wouldn't do it perfectly." I know now that, while I may stumble through talking with her class and come unglued, I can't let fear prevent me from changing the way my daughter will be treated by her peers. I must rely on faith to get me through it - faith in myself that the words will come, and faith in her peers that they will walk away with a better understanding of my little girl.
This will be a good year! I just have to learn to not come unglued.