07/19/2004 - 8:59 p.m.
CONVENIENCE
Life plays funny tricks on you. For years, I have said that I would not give a teenager a car of her own. In a way, I have not done so. But, being honest, I have. I have at least loaned the child her own car. What I did not reckon with was my own convenience---and convenience is a powerful force.
The local high school has a career education requirement as part of its graduation requirements. Kat has decided to fulfill the requirement by doing an internship with a former teacher of hers. It should be good for Kat and for the teacher. But it means she has to get from the high school to the elementary school every day at approximately 1:30 p.m. It is too far to walk and the city bus schedule is not compatible with her schedule. When I thought about having to leave work two hours early to drive her every day or start my work hours at 5:00 a.m. or so, the solution seemed obvious. We would have to buy another car.
I think it will be worth it in more ways than just my convenience. The teacher she will be working with taught her in junior kindergarten, senior kindergarten, and second grade. She taught Kat during the really hard years in which we strove to figure out what was wrong. How could this obviously tremendously bright child who could read at three not manage to cut with scissors or zip her own coat even after you started the zipper? Why did she freak out so easily? Why was she so phobic that she could not enter her best friend�s birthday party because there were balloons at the door? The child just is not wired as the rest of us. She had epilepsy but we did not yet recognize it. She had sensory problems that had gone undiagnosed. Despite her intelligent, there was a large developmental delay.
And we worked and we worked and we worked. Mr. Philately and I took turns driving her to occupational therapy. We took her to a social worker who worked on her frustrations and her social skills. We created an environment that was highly structured. We did our homework with her, playing the games prescribed by the therapists. She and I watched movies and talked about the body language, the feelings, and how to tell how people feel. She learned to lie, an odd sign of progress I know, but it meant that she had finally figured out that other people did not necessarily know what she knew.
And so did her teacher. Kat�s problems broadened her style. She managed to appreciate Kat�s intelligence and creativity even while she struggled to help Kat be part of the classroom group. She too created a structure and we worked as a team. We worked well as a team. Once, in second grade, she called to talk about the day and I felt comfortable enough to ask her whether she wanted me to take action or whether she just wanted someone who could say, �There, there, now, now. I know you�re trying. I also know that kid is trying.� She paused for a moment, laughed, and told me that she wanted the comfort. So I gave it.
Kat has come so far and it is only fair that her teacher reap the benefit. Good teachers do not always get to see just how much they have done and how well things are turning out.
So Kat has �her� car�and it has a gas cap that she can even get off by herself (unlike the cap on the Corolla.) She will go to her internship and explore what she wants to do: be a kindergarten teacher like the one she had.
And if it all works out, I will not regret �giving� my child a car at all. I will not feel I am spoiling her, although I may be spoiling me. Convenience is powerful but I am so very grateful that we need this convenience.
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Copyright 2006 by Ellen |
