A Parent's Point of View
Appreciating our differences

by John P. Cleary
March 17, 2010

My eight-year-old daughter, Abigail, loves to read. She reads well above her grade level, and enjoys tackling challenging books. She loves to write, too, and writes clever, funny stories to share with her brothers and sisters. She is a talented artist, a beautiful dancer and has an amazing ability to remember events down to the tiniest details.

But she is completely lost in second-grade math. Not only is the application of mathematics difficult for her – the adding and subtracting and so on – but the very essence of numbers and how and why they work is a mystery to her. She has developed mechanisms to get through some of it, but, for the most part, she simply can’t grasp it.

This is something we have long been expecting. Abigail suffered a serious brain injury as an infant. Her doctors have warned us there might be long-ranging side effects of the trauma. Already, we’ve seen some physical consequences. Damage to her pituitary has caused a kind of glandular dwarfism. She is tiny for her age, about the same size as her sister, a kindergartner.

We have been waiting to see, as her neurologist put it, where the holes in her personality would be. As she advances in school, we’ve been cautioned, she may begin to show areas of weakness connected to her brain trauma. And now, here they are.

It is frustrating for her to fall behind her peers in math. It’s frustrating for her to sit down each night to do homework that makes no sense to her. As a father, it pains me to see her struggle.

But it is also a reminder of what amazing creatures human beings are. We adapt and grow and find our strengths. We cannot be exactly like our neighbors. Even the best of us have failings and weaknesses. Yet we prosper, we work together, we are able to succeed.

It will be true of Abigail, who may never “get” multiplication but will live a joyful, productive and satisfying life. It will be true of her youngest sister, who may be profoundly intellectually disabled but will still enjoy friendship, love and achievement.

It’s my hope Abigail grows to appreciate what she and others can do, rather than focus on their limitations. I hope she can love herself for the ways in which she is different. I hope we all can.

(John Cleary is the parent of children with developmental disabilities and a writer/journalist who resides in the Southern Tier of New York.)