“Mom, did you know that other people matter even if we don’t like them?”
It’s a Friday evening and he’s carefully slicing his favorite cheddar cheese while seated at the kitchen counter. It’s hard to watch him cut, with a mildly serrated knife, but he’s nearly ten and I suppose it’s time to teach him how we cut food properly (without cutting ourselves).
It takes me a moment, but I do realize that he’s pondering the central idea to the Positivity Project which states: Other People Matter. Public schools in our county have adopted this movement as part of a nationwide effort to encourage youth to build positive relationships by noticing and appreciating the character strengths in themselves and others. (#OtherPeopleMatter)
I look at Brady. “Yes, I think everyone should have a voice, even if we don’t agree with them.” I pause and think to myself it’s got to be about acceptance of others, I’m almost sure that’s the slant the school is taking on this Positivity Project.
So I add: “It is okay for others to have opinions different than our own,” and then I wonder how he’s processing this perplexing subject. Such questions like: Do people who make us feel bad about ourselves matter? Should we care about their opinions? — but I want him to guide this spontaneous conversation we are having as his little fingers continue to carve out cheese pieces with impressive focus.
He continues: “God made us all, Mom. That means He thinks we all matter.” He takes a small piece of cheese and smells it before putting it into his mouth.
Then he asks: “Does ‘matter’ mean the same thing as ‘important?’
Suddenly we went a level deeper in our conversation, and I’m really trying to be very thoughtful in my responses although I feel so exhausted from the week.
“I think it means that everyone has value, that everyone is human, in need of love and understanding. Everyone has feelings,” I reply wondering if this makes sense.
(moment of silence as he fingers his more than a dozen cut-up cheese pieces)
“Do you see my cheese tower now?” he asks after a second or two.
“Yes! It is really amazing,” I reply with relief, “all those pieces you cut up and then balanced on top of one another.”
Each piece of cheese seems to be important in the making of such a fragile but somehow sturdy tower.
His brain is a continual wonder to me. I never know what he will say or how my responses settle on his thoughts. Autism is a part of who he is, but it certainly doesn’t help me fully understand him. For the longest time, I didn’t believe we would ever really converse with one another. At age three, he would just walk around yelling out a few phrases over and over until my head would spin (“DER IT IS!!!!”)
Nowadays, he sometimes lets me in on his thoughts. It usually starts with him asking a question. I really, really try to listen. Not only do I listen to his choice of words, but I have learned to listen to what he is saying underneath. What is he really asking me? I don’t always know. Maybe that’s okay as long as he feels that he DOES matter, that he is WORTH listening to, that he has a voice which he should not hesitate to use.
Brady is in a mainstreamed 4th grade classroom with 28 other children. This is a huge achievement in the life of Brady only made possible with lots of school support (a group of aides/staff/teachers who I like to affectionately call “Team Brady”).
This morning he walks into my room fully dressed for school and declares: “My brain is telling me that it’s not smart.”
This is nothing new. He has said this to me on quite a few school mornings because I believe that he is now aware enough to know he is different than many of his peers. He has moments when he feels “less than.” I think every child does.
It’s a bit unavoidable – the self-doubt. He sees how most of his classmates start and finish their work with much more ease than he; he struggles to read the directions at the top of the page (an aide must assist). He notices the other children’s chapter books and even the thickness of their read-for-pleasure books on their desks. (I like to remind him that we are reading a nightly chapter book at home of his choosing.)
While the fact that he is academically far behind his peers is not something I can hide, I like to look at it as a two-sided coin situation: while he may not be able to complete most of the 4th grade worksheets, I know that the work he does finish is because he wants to be JUST LIKE HIS NEW CLASSROOM BUDDIES. That’s right! He has made new friends in the short amount of time he’s been in school this year and they are not only motivators for him to be his best self, they are also his supporters.
Often, the kids are broken up into smaller learning groups where hands-on activities help all the kids comprehend the material on a more meaningful level. This type of learning task benefits each child because each one can feel more empowered (and more comfortable) to actively engage and let their thoughts be heard. Even a painfully shy child is more likely to voice their answers/ideas in a smaller group (which I know from personal experience).
For a child such as Brady, this type of small group setting with hands-on learning experiences is where the magic of acceptance can take root. His peers begin to view him in a new light (other than ‘that kid who needs an aide’…’that kid who needs fidgets in his hands’) as he tells the four other kids during a science small group matching activity: “Those rocks are cave rocks. Put them in the things-that-belong-in-a-cave-environment pile.” Not only is Brady a part of the learning experience, he is also a part of the ever so important social interactions. The kids in his small group see him as a meaningful contributor, and they begin to see him as a friend as well. It’s magical and life-changing when the roots of acceptance take hold.
Have I told you that he has given me the names and numbers of four new friends this year?
Upon hearing that he is experiencing some self-doubt, I turn to him and say very matter-of-factly: “Brady, you are so smart. Tell that brain to stop telling you lies.”
I look at him and continue, “Guess what, Brady? My brain likes to tell me lies sometimes too. I have to tell it to BE QUIET.”
*****************************************************************************
Yes, Brady, other people DO matter. Perhaps we are all like those pieces of uneven cheese you sliced the other night – jagged, lopsided, none exactly like the other. Everyone has insecurities, places within themselves where they feel inadequate. There is no such thing as perfection. We’ve discussed this so many times.
“You have to be unique, and different and shine in your own way.” -Lady Gaga
Remember how I showed you that something might look perfect, like that red leaf you picked up the other day, but actually it’s not? Remember how it looked so symmetrical and brilliantly red but when we stared at the leaf, we saw it had variations. Lots and LOTS of fun, incredible imperfections. It made us both chuckle because, much to our surprise, it was covered with them.
We are all like that leaf, Brady. Full of beautiful imperfections. It’s our uniqueness that makes us matter.
Let’s celebrate it.
“Be quiet, Brain! I AM DOING MY BEST AND I LIKE THE WAY I AM BECAUSE I’M AN ORIGINAL.”
Beautiful story. Thank you!
Mom of a unique child
Aw I love this. I love that you showed him the leaf with its imperfections and your responses to him feeling not smart are spot on, in my opinion. I don’t even show my son his grades. Like, not at all because they don’t matter. School and testing was designed for something that’s not happening now – inclusion and belief in a future. I mean, the testing methods still need to change, but wow, you are one awesome mama for sure.
Thanks Kristi. Brady is aware enough now to see that he’s different but also social enough to blend in more. It’s wonderful for me to see how inclusion continues to shape him.
Brady:
your brain told you some powerful and profound truths.
To understand and process truth our brains play us some tricks.
And the brain that made the cheese tower – and the hands – and the knife.
Yes – other people matter beyond our liking or disliking for them and even beyond their liking and disliking of themselves and their friends and people who matter to them.
I hope your brain tells you that powerful truth and taps into it.
And good to know your Mum and you and everyone in the world share a lying brain.
Our truths are unique and expansive but the lies are unimaginative and narrow-minded.
Adelaide
So well put, Adelaide. Thank you for your insightful comment; you truly understand. ❤️