Culture Shlock: The kindergarten crop

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Culture Shlock: The kindergarten crop

By Malcolm Fleschner

Daily News Columnist

09/02/2010

This school year I have a son who is entering kindergarten. And like most

parents, dropping him off that first day at the classroom was exciting, but I

was also apprehensive and full of questions. " Will he get along with his

classmates? " " How will he handle the increased structure? " " Will the paste taste

as good as I remember? "

Of course, parents are supposed to be nervous about sending their kids off on

their own to kindergarten. After all, this is when, often for the first time,

they'll have to face real academic expectations and pressure to get along with a

whole new set of classmates, not to mention the omnipresent threat of cooties.

And while nearly all parents are convinced that their child is special, unique,

exceptional, and a near shoo-in for the Ivy League, Olympic gold medals,

multiple Nobel Prizes, etc., my wife and I have particular reason for believing

that our son is unusual. That's because he's the only child in his kindergarten

class with Down syndrome.

While most people have some familiarity with Down syndrome, many don't know that

it's caused by a genetic duplication that results in children who are born with

47, instead of the usual 46, chromosomes. Which is probably why so many people

are confused by the bumper sticker on our minivan that reads " My kid has more

chromosomes than your kid! " The effects of Down syndrome typically include

impaired cognitive ability, delayed physical development and (at least with

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my son) a persistent case of being extremely adorable.

In the past, kids with Down syndrome were typically slotted into classes

exclusively for kids with special needs. But things have changed. Today, with

early intervention, combined with greater societal acceptance and opportunities,

people with Down syndrome can perform at a higher academic level and lead much

more productive, independent, fulfilling lives. And that's why, since infancy

almost, my son has logged hundreds of hours of speech therapy, physical therapy,

occupational therapy, aquatherapy, music therapy, hippotherapy -- basically, if

it's got " therapy " in the title, and it doesn't require a flight to Vienna, he's

probably done it.

In addition, my wife, who is a teacher, has been doing all she can at home to

get him kindergarten-ready, whether teaching him to read and write, going over

the names of the days and months, or things that parents of typical kids

probably don't even think about, such as training him how to open and close a

lunchbox. Meanwhile, I'm doing my part by focusing on other critical

school-related skills my wife would most likely overlook, such as teaching him

proper spitball techniques, explaining how not to fall for the " Do you want a

Hertz Donut? " trick and, of course, helping him develop a full repertoire of

disgusting underarm noises.

But realistically, despite our best efforts, we understand that our son faces

substantial obstacles by being " mainstreamed " in a typical classroom. Perhaps

our greatest fear is that he'll be picked on or made fun of by other kids

because of his disability. Like most parents of kids with special needs, we are

particularly sensitive to the everyday use, even by adults who should know

better, of the so-called " R " word.

Naturally, we've talked to our son's teacher about all these issues. Before

school began, I expressed my concern that he might not always follow directions

properly, he might talk out of turn sometimes, he may not pick up on everything

she teaches him and may not always pay close attention. " So you're worried he

might be just like practically every other kindergartner? " she asked. " Well, not

just like... " I began to say, but then decided it might be best not to mention

his growing spitball prowess.

So as of this writing, we're currently one week in, and things are going great.

Our son is enjoying school, making friends and loving his new teacher. In fact,

at lunchtime on the second day of class, he lost his first tooth, which resulted

in much celebration and pandemonium among his classmates. So it's good to know

that he's already following his father's example by making a spectacle of

himself at school.

Which is not to say that his mother and I are no longer apprehensive. We're only

seven days in, after all, and no doubt during the coming weeks, months and years

of our son's schooling we'll have to deal with untold difficulties, struggles,

heartbreaks and who knows what else. Just like all other parents do. And we'll

face it all the same way other parents do -- with love, compassion and

understanding. As well as, in my case, the occasional disgusting underarm noise.