Brief Amazing Moments of Special Inclusion
When our son, who is learning with disabilities, started Berkley High School, we thought long and hard about what after-school activities would engage him, keep him healthy and help him stay connected to his peers in a natural way. As we explored our options for children of special needs, we were fortunate that Micah had a peer mentor, a junior in high school who helped us think through Micah’s choices. J.J. Wallbillich was the captain of the high school cross country running team, so it may have been natural for him to suggest that Micah join the team.
“Great idea!” my husband and I thought. J.J. could support Micah in becoming part of the team. Micah would be physically active every day after school, and would be hanging out with his new peers. Perfect! It never crossed OUR minds that Micah rarely walks briskly, let alone runs. But that was a minor point—for us. For Micah, running was the farthest thing from his mind. Very far. But he liked J.J, he liked hanging out with and an UPPER classman, and he was willing to try it—“for two weeks, Mom.”
Our Hearts Sank
Three weeks into the season (he made it beyond the two week trial period—our plan was working!) we received a phone call from Micah’s coach. Coach Inman asked if my husband and I could meet with him within the next couple of days to talk. “Of course,” I responded, but my heart sank to the basement floor.
We set a date, but I knew what was happening. The coach was getting to know Micah, and was realizing that our son was NOT a runner. My spirits sunk as I anticipated that I would have to “go back to the drawing board” to find something else he might do after school. Perhaps I would have to stage an “inclusion fight.” It wouldn’t be the first.
Someone on Our Side
So we went into the meeting prepared to be told that it just wasn’t working out. The coach greeted us and then quickly began. “I want to talk with you about a goal I have for Micah.”
“Goal” I said to myself. “G-O-A-L, goal.”
The coach continued, “I would like Micah to run one mile in one of the cross country meets in a few weeks (For those of you who are, like me, new to high school sports, cross country meets are 5 kilometers long or about 3 miles.)
“You mean you are not going to tell me it’s not working out? You mean Micah can stay on the team? You mean you have a goal for him?” I didn’t say these things out loud, but I was shouting them silently. “Bravo!” I thought. We did not have to stage an “inclusion fight!” We did not have to convince anyone that my son should be included.
Instead all we had to do was say, “Yes, Coach. That’s a great idea!” All we had to do was let the coach coach while we sat back in the stands watching our son run. We liked this a lot!
To this day, I am sure that Coach has no idea how thrilled and relieved we felt about his GOAL for our son.
At this same meeting, the coach made another request. He explained that during one practice a week, the kids ran for several miles in local neighborhoods. He worried because Micah had a “bit slower” pace (those were his words!) Micah was often left behind and alone. Coach was concerned for Micah’s safety. I suggested that on those days Micah could skip practice and run with me at home.
Coach quickly disagreed, saying, “No, I want him to remain connected with the school and team. I was wondering if it would be okay if he spent that practice in the weight room in the school gym, running on the treadmill. I want Micah’s running routine to be as closely aligned to the team as possible.”
Whaam! Another surprise—a welcome surprise! “Sounds perfect.” I said, hardly believing what I heard.
I left the meeting pleased and excited. I met a man, a high school coach, who had probably never read anything by the leading thinkers Dr. Marsha Forest or Jack Pearpoint, didn’t subscribe to "Inclusion News," but who understood “inclusion” from his heart and not from any mandate. He just “got it” and we were thrilled.
You Can Do It!
In mid-October of his freshman year, on one of those glorious autumn days with a backdrop of blue skies, orange and yellow leaves dancing lightly in the sweet, soft breeze, Micah ran in his first meet. We videotaped all 11 minutes and 32 seconds of his run. Best friends came to watch, I choked back my tears of pride, and his team cheered. “Go, Micah! You can do it!”
In May as we began to think about his sophomore year, we learned that Micah’s cross country coach would not be coaching the next year. This news sent me into a downward spiral. When parents find adults who believe in their child, they cling like Velcro. I did NOT want him to leave the coaching position. Still, what could we do?
At the end-of-the-year meeting to plan for Micah’s sophomore year, we met the new coach, Mr. Paul Yowchaung. I eyed him suspiciously, wondering if he knew how terrific my son was, if he knew how desperately we wanted Micah to be a part of this experience. I quickly learned the answer to that question. This new coach stated, in a clear, unwavering voice “I have a goal for Micah. I want him to run in EVERY meet and I want him to increase his distance to two miles."
We beamed, nodding our head, too stunned to find the words to express our excitement (again, no “inclusion fight”). Micah’s reaction to the coach’s goal was a bit different. He groaned, muttering “Two miles . . . No way, Mom!”
While delighting in the day’s success later that night, I thought of Adrienne Rich, a wonderful poet. She wrote about growing older and wiser and recalling the lessons she had learned along the way. She said, “I live now, not as a leap, but as a succession of brief amazing moments, each one making possible the next.”
Many Doors Opened Along the Way
This describes Micah’s cross country story perfectly. There were many amazing moments at Berkley High School, each building on the previous one. J.J., his peer mentor, opened the door to cross country. Micah’s first coach opened the door to his running in his first meet. Micah’s second coach opened the door to his running EVERY meet and running longer. And this year, his junior year, the new captain and a couple of other kids are driving Micah home from practice every day.
Everything is not perfect. “Real” inclusion is hard work, an ideal, something to move toward, something like a cross country run. Micah’s cross country career evolved over time, without huge leaps! Micah has learned that he must run every single part of the mile to get to HIS finish line.
There’s a lesson in that for me as well. All of us who believe in inclusion have to run every part of the inclusion course. I cannot LEAP onto the finish line without running the entire course (darn it!). Some of the tracks are smooth and straight, others have steep hills, twists, and turns. But each part must be run. Each part is connected to the previous one.
Each part must be encountered, traveled, negotiated. As Micah has learned, we all must keep a steady pace, look ahead, keep breathing, be encouraged by the cheering, move forward at our own pace. We’ll probably groan as Micah did--“Two miles! No way, Mom!”
But we, like Micah, are spurred on toward our goal. There are no leaps in cross country running, but there can be many brief amazing moments.
Janice conducts workshops for schools on strengthening the parent-professional partnership. She has written two books, "It Matters: Lessons From My Son" and "Do You Hear What I Hear? Parents and Professionals Working for Children With Special Needs." Her son, Micah has a cognitive impairment. You can contact her online at www.danceofpartnership.com.