Me: Are you okay?
Schuyler: Yeah.
Me: You seem like you're sad.
Schuyler, shrugging: A little.
Me: Why are you a little sad?
Schuyler: Two mean girls at school.
Me: What did they do?
Schuyler: They made fun of me. "You're stupid. We're not friends at all!"
Me: Oh no! Why did they say that?
Schuyler: They don't like me because I can't talk. I'm different.
Me: You are different, but that's not a bad thing, you know.
Schuyler: I don't want to be different anymore.
And there's a whole conversation to be had after that, the one about how being different is hard, but it's also the thing that makes you special, etc., the whole "purple snowflake" thing.
But Schuyler doesn't always buy it, not entirely, and while she was able to put it behind her by the time she went to bed, I know that it sticks with her now, in ways it didn't before. And all the pep talks and all the Sesame Street sentiments in the world don't change the fact that for a little girl like Schuyler, self-aware and a week away from her eleventh birthday, being different just sucks.
I can (and did) tell her that everyone is different in their own way and that's okay, but she knows that she is very different indeed. And sometimes it is very much not okay.
28 comments:
Sometimes the pep talk is appropriate. But sometimes you take the trust she is putting in you, that part of her that believes you can understand at least a little, and all you can say to your kid is "yeah, sometimes it sucks to be different."
Cripes, Rob. Little girls really are the cruelest. I remember it well. Thank goodness she has a wonderful father to have heart to heart talks with. And jeez, ELEVEN?! That means I've been reading you for what, 12 years? Damn man! You must be talented or something.
Oh, Rob. She's at that awful in-between age that lasts for way too long. The tween and teen years can be extra hard when you're different or feel different. It gets better, but that's a platitude that doesn't help her much right now.
I don't face any of the challenges that Schuyler has/does/will, but I definitely felt different, left out, etc. at Schuyler's age. It does get better...your world gets bigger after high school, whether you wind up in college or in the workplace. And you find your tribe--even if that tribe is only 2 other people. Little comfort when you're 11...my 11 year old self is crying with and for Schuyler. But all that makes Schuyler different and unique and amazing? And COOL? She'll find people who love it.
I wish I had a crystal ball where I could show her the future...or a way to play my life on fast forward--all the years of feeling like an outcast, all the years where I felt left out and left behind...only to find my footing in my late teens and come into my own in my mid-20s.
Again, that's of no comfort to a sad, frustrated, hurt little girl. But I hope Schuyler knows how much we believe in her--and how amazing we KNOW she is.
Rob,
Not that I want to compare a normal childhood, or even a slightly impaired childhood to the load that Schuyler carries in addition to the regular day to day, but those mean kids have a way of sticking in any child's head. I hate this for her. Hate those kids. I think I've said before "Limey little bastards in need of a lesson."
I totally understand not wanting to be different. God, are there days, even now, as a pretty successful adult, when I'd do just about anything, give up anything, to just be normal. I also hope she's able to carry in her heart how many people LOVE her just the way she is, different and all - maybe sometimes BECAUSE of those beautiful differences. That's the one thing that makes me want to hang on to my challenging life, that there are other people who love me including the parts of me filled with challenges, and worry, and difficulty.
Anyway, a difficult conversation, for you both, and that just sucks and that not matter how much wisdom you pour into it, how much pretty sentiment you add, it still just sucks.
Sending you both lots of love.
It sucks. And you can't make it better. But the fact that she is comfortable talking with you about it is a good thing.
I was different. I was fat. It still hurts. But there is no magic thing to make it go away.
However, in reading about Schuyler all these years (with Miss Banshee, I marvel that I was reading you before Schuyler was born), I know that she has the best parents for helping her be as confident and comfortable as she can be, all things considered.
But that doesn't mean that it doesn't still suck.
My refuge from the world I don't fit into is building one I *do* - finding and making spaces not just full of The Different but controlled by us. Are there any local, grassroots organisations of (not for) young disabled people, or communication aid users, or indeed geeky young women or any of the other fragments of the kaleidoscopic awesome uniqueness that is Schuyler?
I am so sorry this conversation had to happen. Love to both of you.
I am not different in the way that Schuyler is different or that my handicapped daughter is different. But I remember being different for simply being the sensitive kid. Nothing hurts more than taunts of "we don't want to be your friend anymore because..."
Part of it is just the age she is at. Part of it is that we are fearful of the "other".
My mom used to tell me, "They are jealous of you because you are pretty. They are jealous of you because you are smart. They are jealous of you because you are pretty and smart." She meant well, but that was not particularly soothing. I only internalized that. When I was eleven and a half, I had my first thoughts of suicide. Was this "they'll be so sorry when I am gone," mentality. I tried to conform and it just about killed me on the inside. I couldn't conform if my life depended on it.
The best day was when I stood up for myself. I fell on the ice in front of this one boys house and he was telling his friends, "spit on her, spit on her," and I called him a son of a bitch. They never bothered me again.
The best thing you can do for Schuyler is to teach her how to stand up for herself and how to deflect with humor. You don't want her to say to someone the hell with you perhaps but be honest. "Yeah, you are different, and that is hell." But being different does not mean someone is defective. It just means... different. Oliver Sacks says that we are all whole, regardless of what is present.
Being different neither is good nor bad. It just is. She is different. And that is OK. But do not pretend that it is special. She is, I am, you are, my daughter is. We all are. It's gotten to be meaningless. She needs a way to develop some toughness. You have got to help her find some inner strength. Remind her where she placed her sense of humor. That is what has gotten me through some pretty dark days. I've been told that I have "sand." Grit. That is what Schuyler needs right now. She needs a way to find that grit. Because she is gonna need it in the years to come.
These girls... tomorrow they may all be friends again. At that age it is possible. But your daughter needs to learn how to survive all the bumps in between. They may be reacting to her being different, or that may simply be an excuse as they sort things out in the pecking order. No one wants to be unpopular.
I hope some of that helps.
I imagine that just acknowledging her feelings and even affirming them will give her strength. Your constant love and concern and hope will give her strength, too. She will find her way because she is a beautiful young girl -- I hate that she has to have this but feel strongly that you and your wife are giving her all that she'll need to be resilient. It might not be easy, but I have to believe that it will be all right.
They're just being kids. I'm not giving them excuses, but unfortunately, it's the way we teach our children to act. We try to teach them to not look at differences; we try to teach ourselves that we don't look at differences, but we do. We can say we don't all we want, but we do.
I deal with this with my little one and as much as I'd like to tell him that it's okay that he can't talk and it'll go away, I know that the truth is that he has a long road ahead of him.
Teach her to be strong and that who she is, is important. Teach her that she does have a voice, even if she can't speak it. Teach her to love and she will forgive those that are mean. Teach her to love and she'll grow to teach all of us.
I talk about Schuyler all the time in my class (I teach 6th grade). We love her dearly and we have never met her.
I know this brings no comfort but if she ever wants to get a pile of letters and cards. Let me know, my students would love to send them.
Rob:
I leave it up to you to show this to Schuyler or not, at your discretion.
Schuyler,
I know it's hard to be different. But I think it's because there are people who are too scared of "different" people. They can't use their imagination enough to think how they could possibly be friends with someone who isn't exactly like them. But that's THEIR problem.
I wasn't "different" in the same way you were, but I was still different. And a lot of kids I went to school with knew that, and a lot of them teased me too, because of it. And it stunk.
But there were a couple people I met who didn't care that I was different, because they were different too. My very best friend says she doesn't really understand people who AREN'T different. She always said, "why would you want to be with friends who are exactly 100 percent alike with everyone else anyway? That's boring!"
And then a couple funny things happened when I grew up. First of all, I found a lot of other people who were "different" in the same way I was. And they didn't think I was different at all, because I was like them. And then someone I knew back when I was in school started talking to me again...and he told me something REALLY surprising. He remembered being one of those people. And he APOLOGIZED.
I had a dream when I was your age, and it taught me a lot about friendship. I dreamed I was in a room with everyone in my school, and I started singing them my favorite song. But they all turned their backs to me. So I went back around to their front and kept singing, but they all turned their backs to me again. I kept going around to their fronts a few times, still singing, and they kept turning around.
But then I dreamed that I finally noticed that two or three people WEREN'T turning their backs -- my best friends. So when I finished singing, I waved at them, and my friends followed me out of the room -- the whole rest of the class had their backs to me, so they didn't see - and my friends and I went out of the room and went to someone else's house and had this big awesome party, just for us.
I realized when I woke up that this meant something. It meant that I may only have had a couple friends in my class -- but in my dream those friends were people who wanted to hear me sing, no matter how good or bad they thought my singing was or how corny the song itself was. And that was because they knew it was important to me. In real life, I knew these friends cared about me and what was important to me, and that was what friends really do. I only knew a couple people like that in my class - but I could trust that those friends were REAL, and FOR GOOD. I wouldn't ever have to worry about whether one of them would ever stop liking me for a dumb reason, or because I ate lunch with someone else for a change. My friends would be my friends no matter WHAT.
Different people sometimes don't have a lot of friends, but the friends we get stay for good. Remember my best friend that I told you about, the one who said she doesn't trust people who aren't different? I've known her for thirty years. And I still talk to her sometimes when I'm feeling that being different is hard, and she tells me about sometimes when she feels different too, and it helps -- not just because I know I'm not the only one that feels that way, but because I know that she likes me anyway.
I promise you that there are people who don't care whether you're different. There are people who do, and that stinks, but I think that they just don't have the big enough brain you need to understand how to be in a world with people who are different. And I also know that the people you meet and make friends with who don't care whether you're different will be your friends a heck of a lot longer.
It's rough. But the rough stuff gets you the best reward.
Good luck.
I don't want to offer simplistic answers, but I wonder if she might be old enough to appreciate Helen Keller's biography. I think she is a shining example of different - particularly different in her early inability to communicate - that went on to do amazing things. Her difference is what made her special indeed.
no advice, no sunflowers and fake grass, just empathy and sorrow. These things suck. The pain is real. Sometimes nobody can fix it.
What they said
Oh, some lovely posts here. Queen Callipygos . . . wow. What a wonderful message.
I can only offer my support. This is a hard time I think in ANY girl's life.
It will get better.
Aw, Rob. That breaks my heart.
If it's any consolation--and it's not much of one--but the neurotypical girls do this to each other all the frickin' time. Disgusting and cruel. But if they were friends before (as opposed to random beyotches on the playground), then on the other hand, Miss Shuganah is absolutely right: Tomorrow they may all be friends again.
A great book on the subject is "Queen Bees and Wannabees." Schuyler's going to have to navigate this territory, and it's great for helping you figure out how to support her through it.
I'm curious: does she say these things to you through her box, or are you able to understand her speech enough? Either way, she seems really articulate for a kid who can't physically speak. She's doing a great job.
I swear to god if I ever found out my kid was doing that to someone else I'd give her what for. Maybe you should have some phone conversations with parents about politeness. That other girl doesn't have to be friends with someone she doesn't want, but by golly she'd better learn some manners.
Agreed with so many other commenters. Such a complicated situation since neurotypical girls totally go through this; but Schuyler's "differentness" is particular. My heart aches for her on both counts.
But! There is one thing that she has that most eleven-year-old girls don't have, and that you gave her: a wide array of people in the internet and who have read your book who value her as the unique and wonderful person she is. It doesn't fix all the peer issues, but when I was a sad and lonely teen it helped to know that grownups, or anyone really, cared about me and thought I was worthy.
Most of our direct communication now is verbal, with a lot of gestures and sign language mixed in. When I transcribe a conversation with Schuyler, I tend to leave out the confirmations. (S: "I'm a little bit sad." Me: "You're a little bit sad?" S: "Yeah.")
People who speak to her a lot can usually hold basic conversations with her without her device (although phone conversation is still very difficult), but without the benefit of working with the device for the past five years, that would almost certainly NOT be true.
We're getting back up to speed on sign language, by the way. There is an excellent app for the iPad called Sign 4 Me that I can't recommend highly enough. It works especially well for someone like Schuyler who is learning the signed words but has no need for the particular sentence construction of ASL.
(It doesn't seem to know dirty words, though. Pity. She'll be needing those soon.)
Pookie is almost 5 years old and has already told me that he doesn't want to be different anymore. My heart is with you and your daughter. I believe that our children will grow with a compassion that others won't have, and their compassion for others, like Christ's, will make all the difference in the world.
I have followed your blog for a while now after our bookclub read your book. I have a 10 yr old daughter who would love to be an online pen pal with Schuyler. Wonderful thing about the internet is who you can meet. Please email me if you and Schuyler are interested.
Thanks for the idea on the app Rob. My little one has given up on his device to and tries to use more verbal communication, which is great to hear his voice & have him try. But of course this leads to more stares & whispers from the community. I learned sign language when he was a baby so I could teach him as he grew up, & this has helped a lot during his transition away from his device.
You were very perceptive not to push the whole "Different is a GOOD thing!" and "Take that frown and turn it upside down" jive. Kids know when their parents aren't being honest with them and when they're just trying to make them feel better.
Sometimes the best you can do is to agree that, yeah, mean girls suck.
I used to get teased because I was taller than anybody in my grade (even the boys) and skinny AND I wore glasses. That's nothing compared to what Schuyler has to contend with, but it made going to school very unpleasant for me. My mom tried to make me feel better by saying that the other girls were mean because they were jealous of me.
Right, Mom.
At least you didn't ask Schuyler what she did to make the girls mad at her, like my dad did.
It got worse when I got a little older and started getting work as a parts model (legs and hands were my specialty). The girls were even meaner and Mom telling me that they were jealous still didn't help, although this time it was true.
Growing up is hard. Kids - and adults - can be mean. I wish Schuyler could fast-forward to her twenties because I think she'll be happier then but being eleven is just plain awful sometimes.
Rob, does Schuyler want any "boy" friends? We'll be down in Arlington for good next week, I have 9 year old triplet boys that would love to make new friends. I know they're younger, but they still love hugs:
)
They're mean and she's not...that's a distinction that she might take some comfort in.
And as painful as this is, it's a big important step for her to recognize when people are being mean, instead of thinking they are her friends. Being able to identify assholes is something that will help her tremendously in jr high. Particularly if she can observe them being mean to other kids, too--then she can make friends with those other kids. That worked for me, and i'm still friends with most of my misfit buddies from those days.
Are you familiar with Karen Walrond's new book "The Beauty of Different"? I highly recommend it. It's available from Bright Sky Press. The photographer is gorgeous and her writing is eloquent.
OMG I'm gonna cry. As I said, I am 11. I understand her. I wish I knew her. I would be her BFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFL. In my class, I am the "weirs" girl. i'm only 5 ft tall. i like to sing. i like lady gaga (lol), i joke around, run around, and worst of all, i'm new. i don't really like the 6 other girls in my ENTIRE GRADE and I'm changing. not because i'm having a tough time but because i dont like the school. im goin to a new one next year. and tell scuyler that she WILL find a friend. is she in the disabilites class? maybe she can make a friend with a high functioning kid. maybe one with aspergers. just tell her its gonna be ok. shes not ugly, shes talented, and she's spirited. she has a bright future.
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