A question of fairness

One look at the caller ID and I knew who it was and what they were going to say. "I am the director of the pre-school program at the gymnastics center", said a woman at the other end. "Your son's teacher told me that he has been running around in class. It is unsafe for the other kids and not fair to the teacher. Can we try to find another day for him?" My heart sank . "Wednesdays at 4:30 or any of the other days would work", I whispered. There was a whole minute of silence while she presumably tried to find a spot on the schedule. "I'm sorry, it looks like all the classes are full. If we can't re-schedule of course we will refund your money". I was silent. My six-year-old had been so excited about this class. His sister had been going to gymnastics for years and did the most amazing things in the basement using the battered couch and their old crib mattress. He tried hard to copy her and now he was finally getting a chance to go to a class himself. The lady on the phone now had a slightly petulant note in her voice "I'm not off base am I? I mean you were there". Maybe the lack of apology and the unalloyed sadness in my voice had exasperated her. "No, no you are perfectly right. He did run around and I saw him pulling the teacher's hand several times" I conceded. She was right. She was perfectly justified in everything she said. It was unfair to the other kids and to the teacher. And yet. There was something else I was feeling. Something that I could not quite put the words to. It was not just the fact that my baby would be disappointed. He was so full of enthusiasm after the first class. "Jump with Charlie". "Girls wear ..?" "Leotards" I told him. "Boys no wear leotards". "That's right". He is six but still struggles to form sentences and is not always cognisant of the appropriate way to behave. I had put him in a younger level class thinking that it would be a better fit. "He has learning disabilities , doesn't he?" said the lady on the telephone. "Yes", I said "we're not sure exactly what. Look, can we try him one more day? I will talk to him". "Yes, we can do that". She seemed a little relieved to be done with the conversation. Even though I had agreed with her all the way and had not complained or pleaded, maybe something in my tone and in my silences had gotten to her and she was beginning to feel less sure of herself.

All through the next day I carried a heavy feeling in my heart. My boy had come a long way since a pre-school teacher had faithfully charted the number of hits and scratches and bites to hand over to us every evening. Now he was a cheerful and curious child, energetic and mischevious but he still had a long way to go before he could catch up with his peers. All day, the words "it wouldn't be fair" rang in my ears inexplicably mixed up with images of my son's first grade teacher. On the first day of school she had dismissed his aide because she didn't want him to feel different and everyday, despite having 20 six-year-olds in the class, she manages to give him special attention and is always totally tuned in to who he is and what he needs. It isn't fair on her that she has to do this and her life would have been much easier without this challenging little boy in her class but then again, she herself chose to do it. Slowly my thoughts cleared and what I could have said but never will (because it is not fair and would not be right) began to fall into place. "You are right, it isn't fair. But what my boy has to go through everyday struggling to keep up isn't fair either. Life isn't fair. It is true he wore out the teacher and she had to run after him several times to keep him in line. She had a harder time managing him, true. But what she was really doing was sharing a little bit of the burden of unfairness that he has to carry on his shoulders everyday". But sharing a burden is not something you can ask someone else to do nor is it fair - it is something that some people just do, out of love, believing that whatever someone is dealing with is not just his problem but a part of theirs too.

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