We All Have 'Special Needs'

With Philip are neighbours Wendy and Lorna...just 2 of the many in his very supportive group of friends

Once it became apparent that our son had a 'label', we set out to read, study, and learn everything we could about his condition. A part of his brain had become 'retarded' due to the pressure and stress of an unusually long delivery process (should have used Purolator instead of Canada Post)...but since, in the early '80s the word 'retarded' was tabooed, we embraced the accepted moniker of the day - 'mentally challenged'. Over the years we've heard and used them all...mentally disabled...slow learner...developmentally challenged...exceptional needs...ADHD - Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder...autistic...and of course, the foolish and less appropriate...weird...strange...nuts (wait a minute - that was me they were referring to!).

Here are some of Philip's early psychological assessments:

"During Philip's second year in kindergarten when he was 6 years, 8 months, psychological assessment indicated below average intellectual development...current test scores indicate cognitive skills much below average, somewhere between the 1st and 2nd percentile level."

(at age 10) "...Philip's intellectual development is such that he could be expected to succeed with academic tasks at approximately a 6 year level." (heck...his 24 year old brother Johnny still doesn't perform at a 6 year level...hehehe!)

"...Philip is highly impressionable, easily led astray and unable to cope in a regular classroom environment...his placement at the secondary school age level will need to accommodate not only his intellectual deficiency but also his more general need for social support and protection."

Today we have settled in and feel comfortable with the term 'special needs'. The Scorekeeper, our miracle child, has 'special needs'. (but that still doesn't really make sense, 'cause we all have special needs...his mom needs special shoes...she needs special clothes...she needs special jewelry...why, I have special needs...ahh, but we'll save those for another day...wink...wink!)

Neighbours, family and friends soon clued in and as Philip grew and his 'special needs' became more pronounced and demanding, they became a wonderful support group. Philip is, to a large degree, who he is today -well mannered, well behaved and well liked - because of the understanding, the love, and the attention he received from this group. We are forever indebted and grateful to all of them.

Bus-ting With Pride!

Philip rode the 'little yellow bus' to school for 12 years,]. To this day I don't think he has ever even been on a long one. Doesn't matter...it was his bus and he loved it. Once the daily routine had been established and he'd become best friends with the driver, he was golden. Not a problem...

...except this ONE time...when he was 15!

Every day Diane would watch for him at around 4 p.m. He would exit the bus with his trade-mark shrilling war cry that informed the neighbourhood that he was home. He would run...eyes darting...arms flailing...sweat breaking...straight for his room - stopping only momentarily in the kitchen to grab a handful of cookies and a can of Pepsi.

However, on this one particular day, he exited quietly and with a definite concern on his mind. Barely 10 feet from the bus he suddenly stopped and turned. Then, feet firmly planted on the pavement - stance secured - he raised his arm like Moses at the parting of the Red Sea and defiantly pointed his 'index' finger at the kids on the bus (thank goodness...wrong finger ). At first we were horrified at Philip's retaliatory gesture...but then we realized that he was, for the first time, 'taking a stand'...'making a point'...and 'not backing away' from the rude conduct of a group of teens, who, unlike Philip, were NOT special needs students, but older, behavioural 'bad apples' - criminals in the making - who were passengers on the same bus and students in the same school. Where Philip learned that particular action is beyond me...likely from TV or one of his many movies (or could he have witnessed his mother 'flipping me the bird' as, once again, I drove off the yard to my 4th golf game of the week...hmmm?)

Nothing ever came of the incident other than the parental pride that accompanies a victory on the sports field, or in this case, on the field of life! He has never, to our knowledge, repeated that performance.