Quinnlin stepped into the car yesterday during carpool where a snack and juice box waited for her to devour.
“How was your day, honey?” I said, like I do every day she bounces in my car.
On this day she is holding stapled sheets – like most Tuesdays or Wednesdays – along with her jacket and messenger bag. She isn’t in the car more than 5 seconds before she pushes the stapled sheets in my face, she says…
“I hate that they blow up my work like this because it makes me feel dumb and no one else has to do this and why can’t I just be normal?!!”
Sigh.
She’s 10 now and is noticing how she is different from her friends in her everyday life. Gage doesn’t have these issues, because he largely does not care what other people think of him. It is a characteristic that has served him well and likely will in the future. Quinnlin isn’t like that and as soon as she noticed she had accommodations that her friends didn’t have she’s hated it.
- Her removal from the class to work one-on-one? “I’m so stupid.”
- Modifications made to worksheets? “Everyone will think I am stupid when they see it.”
- Sitting close to the board so she can see better? “Why can’t I be normal, like everyone else?”
- Printed out sheets from the board so she doesn’t have to track back and forth to work? “I hate my stupid, stupid eyes and what they can’t do!”
- Testing in a different room with a small group? “Why can’t I just be like everyone else and NORMAL?”
To any of the above questions I ask the ever-present questions, most likely asked by every parent of a kid with differences, either to the child or privately to themselves: “Did someone say something? Did someone make you feel bad about it?”
I asked those questions on this day too, as she pushed the stapled sheets in my face. “No! It is just me, me, ME! I FEEL STUPID when people can see the sheets blown up! I keep telling the teachers I DO NOT NEED my work blown up but they say they can’t!” (because it’s in her IEP)
Huge tears fall. Unusual is the fact that in my car there is not an abandoned napkin for me to hand to her so she keeps wiping her face on her too-long sleeves that are wrapped around her knuckles. He breathing is quick and rhythmic. This cry isn’t the one that we normally hear when we’ve offended her by rules or her brother has wronged her.
This cry is painful. Deep. It’s the cry we know is inevitable as a parent, but we wish we’ll bypass due to some cosmic intervention. It’s the cry that seems to go on longer than it is in real time because it represents the deep pain of lack of self confidence.
It’s the cry of the pain of realizing you’re different.
When we can make a Quinnlin Modification to a modification currently in place, I’ve wanted to try. So we will try to do the worksheets of math at “normal” size and she’s agreed to have language arts work blown up because there are 4 others that also have theirs blown up.
One of the hardest things about helping Quinnlin navigate growing up and realizing her differences is trying to get her to understand we’re all different. That is little comfort when the differences hits you in the face daily. It is little comfort when you know others know you’re different. It is hard to teach there is beauty in difference to your daughter when one hand holds stapled, enlarged worksheets and the other holds a too long shirt wrapped around her knuckles wiping the large tears.
Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.
Ugh. The DIFFERENT thing is killing me right now. Doesn’t want a list on his desk, wears a hoody every day so no one can tell how skinny he is, “forgets” his glasses, doesn’t want to leave the room for speech. It’s so hard. Trying so hard to help him realize that different is good and better.
Isn’t it? We’ve been cruising along and I thought she was rising above it but realizing (sadly) that isn’t the case. It’s getting worse! I don’t know what the answer is, but it’s so, so hard. I feel ya.
Oh, Julia, I wish I could hug you both. I’m wiping tears while reading this because I know the pain you both feel. You are such a great mom!
I know you know the pain. Just have to move through it. It’s harder on Q than on me. Poor bunny. Thanks for your support.
Oh, different. Sigh. I want to hug her big.
And you.
Well, that would be good, because she loves her some hugs. Thanks for your support…
She is such a sweet girl and I just want to gather her up and give her a big hug. <3
Awww, thanks Marla. She takes hugs, for sure.
I’m waiting for the day my grandson comes to this realization. At 2 1/2, he is, right now, the happiest, sweetest, loving little boy, but he has left side weakness and speech problems because of his stroke at birth. I don’t think he knows it yet. But I can see the isolation beginnings, when his brother and cousins don’t include him in play. He’s in the room, playing, but he’s not playing WITH them. I love that little boy so much and my heart just hurts so much for him. What can I do to make it easier for him?
It’s so hard. I think one thing is to just make it okay to talk about. My girl can talk, cry, and vent about it. Also, we work hard to seek out kids (AND parents of those kids) who are especially accepting…and we work with them with openness to help our kids create connections, even if it’s just a couple.
Oh Julia. As a Mom I can’t imagine how painful this must have been for you to watch your girl in so much pain. She sounds bright and amazing and sensitive. All traits I’m sure you’re proud of. That awareness is something I haven’t had to see/face with my son and in some ways I’m grateful. I’d love to just give you both a hug!!
Thanks Cathy, so much. Quinnlin IS bright and amazing…I wish she knew she was!
ugggg, feeling different, whether real or imagined (not saying that Q is imagining this, because, clearly) is never fun. That’s one thing they never told us before we had kids, “Oh by the way, your heart will shatter into a million pieces every time you kid is hurt or crying”
Here supporting you both, wish there was more I could do.
Right? RIGHT? The moms before us never told us, did they? It’s because they didn’t want to be alone in the heart shattering!
Thanks, as always, for your kind words…they mean so much.
I wonder if you know of any ‘successful’ adults or teens in your community who use modifications at work (a social worker friend of mine uses kurzweill and dragon to write reports due to severe dyslexia for instance) who you could introduce Quinnlin to. As much as you tell kids that different is OK sometimes it is helpful to see an example. I know this approach was helpful for some of the kids I have worked with.
You know Megan, that is a terrific idea. I am ring to be thinking on that one!
Oh, I feel this in my gut for you. You’ve equipped her well, though, and she’ll get to the other side of this, just like she has with every other challenge she’s faced. But how painful. xoxo
She will get through it, I can only hope, quickly.
Well Quinn you are far from alone with feeling different and hating it. We are all different and even though you may not see it with your friends they too are different. I’ll let you in on a little secret, being different can be totally awesome! My best friend had a LOT of help with her schooling, much like what you need. She hated it too until she started kicking all of our butts on tests! She had one on one help, up until she finished high school. This involved having a laptop to help her with assignments, print outs of notes from the black boards, doing tests in a different room for a longer time than the rest of us and longer time allotted for assignments.
She graduated high school with all her credits, was almost on the honor roll and was well loved by all her friends. Today she is one of the smartest women I know with a heart of gold. She still needs to slow some things down and take extra time on things at work but she lives a pretty ‘normal’ life. She is surrounded by many good friends and so many people who love her, she’s not different she is her own self.
So next time you feel down and hate that you have to do things different just remember all the people that love you because of how awesome YOU are
What a sweet story about your friend. I shall share it with Quinnlin, for sure! Thank you for sharing it with me/us!
Quinnie B- You are so special and I love you just the way you are
Even though some of our friends differences might not be as obvious as others, everyone has strengths and everyone has weaknesses. Some things I love about you are the way you make me laugh and laugh at my jokes (that usually arent funny), the joy we both get from dancing and singing to T Swift and being silly together, and the caring friend that you are. Don’t be discouraged by things in school that are meant to help you, those accomodations are important and your friends are probably jealous deep down that they may not have those things too. 
Here is a little video that we watched in one of my classes to show that everyone has differences and if it wasn’t that way, this world would be a pretty boring place! Hope you enjoy!!
Aw, that is the sweetest note, I shall read it to Q tomorrow!
Oh, how hard. I guess part of why this is hitting her so hard is her age — coming into the tween years, when being just like everyone else is especially important. And at that age, she hasn’t had the experience to know that part of being that age is experiencing those feelings of being inadequate or different or apart from the crowd sometimes, but the reality is that all of us are special and wonderful and unique. So that she has some different abilities makes the whole thing much worse, because then she has a concrete THING to hang all these feelings on. It sucks. Being that age is hard enough!
I recently talked to a good friend’s son, who was having those kinds of feelings (although he does not have a physical condition that makes things worse), and he seemed to really be able to hear me in a way that he couldn’t hear his mom — I told him how wonderful he is, and how everybody goes through patches of feeling this way. Sometimes it’s easier to hear from an older peer or from an adult who’s not your parent. If there’s somebody like that in Quinn’s life (and I’m sure there is), maybe she would benefit from talking to that person about it all.
Yeah, we’re thinking a young woman (babysitter above, who commented) could help in this area!
Adding my hugs to a sweet girl I don’t know and can’t really help.
I cried reading this. My twins will face this just by them being twins. At 4, Jack has already told me he’ll never be as fast as Alex. It’s true; I can’t catch a full-speed Alex because he is a natural runner. But I don’t need 2 Alexes. I need a Jack and an Alex.
As a teacher, I struggle with this as well. I want to give mods and also give help and support without holding a huge neon sign above their heads. It’s so tough.
There is a fine balance. Maybe by being twins, Jack is having more of a chance to cope with it? Maybe that will help them when he’s older? Having already had time to come into his own and less comparison will go on?
Or I could be totally wrong…but I hope so.
Sigh. And your daughter is getting to the age now where being different is so hard for kids! All they want to do it fit in. My heart hurts for her and other kids in the same boat. My daughter has intellectual disabilities of a level where she is unaware that she is different. She cruises through life without noticing how different she is. Her level of need is a challenge but I would be lying if I didn’t say that at times I have felt glad that she is unaware. Sending hugs and prayers your way.
(Found you a year or 2 ago on hopefulparents.org and always enjoy your posts and blog!)
Carrie T.
Carrie T., thanks for you comment and for coming by here (and for reading my Hopeful Parents stuff!). I can see what you mean about your girl…
Hi. I recently found your blog and have been reading through. This post is hitting hard today. I’m sure we’re about to get an ADHD diagnosis for my older son who is now 5. 1 of my main worries with this is that he will be treated differently or made fun of by other kids and that he will not be happy with himself once modifications are made at school for him. His current teachers have been great and have been modifying things for him even without an IEP and he has been loving the “special treatment” but I do worry about how he will handle it as he gets older. But not doing anything won’t help him either.
Yeah, at 5 they don’t notice the differences in the world because their world is all about them — at least for my kids anyway there wasn’t any comparing at that age.
(I don’t know how I missed this comment…sorry for the lateness in responding!)
I NEEDED to read this today, as I struggle with Gabe and his 504. WHY does he have to be different, he cries???
Thank you so much for this. xoxoxoxo
Carmen, I’m not sure how this comment got by me because on this post I was watching! Today someone commented which brought me back and I’m glad it did.
Why, the differences and more importantly, why do they matter so much? Why can’t we all marvel at our differences and not hold them against each other.
Sigh.
Julia, I think there was a reason I met you at the PKD Leadership meeting. As I sit here reading your blog entries I have tears because I see this happening to my daughter. Although she is 7, she doesn’t understand why she has to go to the resource room to do her work and why she has to go to a separate reading room to get help. ‘Why can’t I stay I my classroom with my friends?’. She asks. I want to say because your so far behind you can’t keep up but I know if I do it would crush her little heart. So I smile and say that it’s because she like me learns a little different way. Her reply ‘I don’t want to learn differently I want to learn like other kids’. At 7 it has already started and I know with her I have a rough road ahead of me. Being different is BEAUTIFUL and I wish they could see that.
You, Julia are a strong woman, an amazing advocate for your children. I can only hope that I can be as strong as you when I move through the different stages of childhood with my kids. Thank you!!!
It was so good to meet you too, Jill. I hope to see you again soon.
It is so hard to watch our kids feel left out/different. Right now the teachers are trying to work her in small groups so she doesn’t know they are all there for her. She likes it and in fact it doesn’t even feel special ed/resourc-y.
Didn’t mean to make you cry, but sometime we must cry, right?