“And you,” she continues, pointing straight at me, “as his mother, why don’t you set an example of how to acknowledge, respect and celebrate each other’s differences, instead of resenting and diminishing him for being who he is!” Stunned, I stare back at her. I needed that piece of advice, delivered just like that. It cracks something open inside me, and cracks it good. Later that day, I pick Ilan up from his pre-school and endure his teacher’s standard greeting: “Ilan refused to sit in the circle clapping his hands with the other boys and girls...” “Sorry, Mommy,” he whispers apologetically, as I strap him into his car seat and our eyes connect. In this moment, the crack inside me bursts open and my heart sinks − his large, brown eyes are screaming for help: “Understand me, guide me, save me from this power I can’t control!” And right in the middle of the crowded parking lot, suddenly everything turns upside down, and I want to drop to my knees and grab him in a tight hug, keeping him warm and safe, like when he was inside of me. I cover his face with kisses: “I’m so sorry for misunderstanding and misjudging you,” I whisper, crying. How could I, his mother, not see through him? How could I not recognize and appreciate the intense power pulsating in him? How could I not be on his side? “Sorry for betraying you,” I sob, burying my face in his soft curls. From Chapter 12 Out of this world: A teacher has been born
Posted on: Wed, 28 May 2014 03:44:25 +0000
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