Being Different

Tuesdays from 4:00 until 6:00 are the best two hours of my week. This is the time when the 24 members of Project UP come to Merrimack Hall for their weekly company class. Anything can happen during these two hours and something fascinating always does. Usually what happens is a series of things that are equal parts heartbreaking, touching, hilarious and insightful. Great life lessons can be learned when you spend two hours with 24 teenagers with special needs. This week’s highlights included a romance, a puppy and a group hug.

Katie and Noah have been involved in a relationship for quite a while now and plan to get married when they are 25. While Katie frequently flirts with other boys, which for some strange reason never upsets him, Noah is steadfastly faithful to Katie. This week, when I walked into the lobby to greet the kids, I found Noah sitting on the couch eating a snack and Katie standing in front of him with her arms folded across her chest, wearing an angry frown on her face.

“What’s the matter, Katie?” I asked.

“I mad at Noah. He kiss Kayla,” she said.

I asked Noah if it was true that he kissed Kayla. Between French fries, Noah said that yes, he did indeed kiss Kayla. When I asked him why he did such a thing, he answered, “I dunno…cause she let me?”

Katie puffed herself up and gave me a look that said, “Can you believe him?”

Noah, finally realizing that Katie was extremely upset with him, looked up from his fries, puckered up his lips and blew her a kiss. Keeping her arms crossed, she gave a dramatic fiip of her head and said, “Nice try, buddy.” Just then, Bill walked into the room and Katie took his arm, smiling coyly. “I go with Bill now,” she announced, as she and Bill walked to the stairs. Noah went back to eating his fries but said to me, “She won’t stay mad long.” Sure enough, about thirty minutes into class, all was fine with Katie and Noah. 

My son, Austin, got a silver lab puppy two weeks ago. Mello is only seven-weeks-old and, like his name implies, he is a laid back fella. I brought him to class because I knew the kids in Project UP would love to meet him. When I walked into the theatre with the puppy, all the kids broke out into the biggest smiles, exclaiming over how cute Mello is. I told the kids that everyone would have a chance to hold Mello but that I wanted Lexie to see him first. No one objected, willing to wait patiently while their teammate got first dibs.

Lexie had a stroke about a year ago, the third serious stroke in her life. She hasn’t regained much of the limited speech she had prior to the stroke but one of the words that she has retained is “kitty-cat,” which she uses to describe any animal. I showed Lexie the puppy in my arms and she smiled with genuine pleasure and excitement, saying, “Kitty-cat!” I sat on a bench, expecting that Lexie would sit beside me. Instead, she spotted a chair in the stage wings, which she dragged over to the bench so that she could sit facing me and the puppy. While Mello laid on my lap, Lexie stroked, poked and prodded him, sticking her fingers in his eyes and ears, pushing on his belly and inspecting every inch of him.

Now, he may be laid back, but Mello doesn’t like to have his eyes pried open. He is also teething and has the sharpest puppy teeth I’ve ever felt, quick to bite on anything in the general vicinity of his mouth. Not once did Mello try to nibble on Lexie’s fingers; he sat patiently, letting her explore him to her content. Somehow, Mello knew he needed to make a special exception to his “Bite anything near my mouth” policy for Lexie.

Lexie reluctantly let me take Mello over to the circle everyone was sitting in and, one at a time, the teens had their turn snuggling and petting the puppy. A few times, Mello was dropped on his head. Many of them held Mello in awkward positions that couldn’t possibly have been comfortable for him. But he never tried to wriggle away, as he does when anyone in my family holds him in a way he doesn’t like, never put up any objection to the clumsy hand-offs and awkward petting. Somehow, that puppy knew that the kids handling him have special needs and that playing with him was bringing them all great satisfaction.

After the class had gone through their warm-ups, done their across-the-floor work and rehearsed a song, it was time for them to run through a dance number. Hayley plugged her ipod into the theatre’s sound system. The volume was set too high and music blared through the speakers at an earsplitting level. The instant the sound came through the speakers, all the teens – almost in unison – said, “Dana!” and ran to her side.

Dana has a dual diagnosis of Down syndrome and autism. She is non-verbal, having lost her speech around age two. She is highly sensitive to loud noises, reacting to them with heartrending tears. After being together for three years, her teammates know this and quickly recognize situations that might be stressful to Dana. When that boom came through the speakers, they all rushed to hug her, put their hands over her ears, be there for her in an effort to prevent her weeping. Seeing this made me cry and because of this, Dana didn’t.

It was a beautiful sight to see, those teens offering support to their teammate. These are kids who don’t have many chances to be on a team, who are denied access to activities where they can learn to work with others in a group setting, who have limited access to mainstream activities like performing arts programs. They have relished every opportunity that membership in Project UP offers them, eagerly welcome newcomers, excitedly get to know new friends in the program. They go out of their way to welcome each other each week, calling out enthusiastic greetings and offering each other warm hugs. Some of them go to the same school but even if it’s only been two hours since they last saw each other, they exclaim with joy over each reunion. They go out of their way to get to know one another and to keep track of the things that make each other happy or sad, like Dana’s reaction to loud noises. They offer to each other the sort of genuine love and compassion that we should all offer to each other. And we think they are the ones who are different?

Yeah, the kids in Project UP are different from the rest of us. They take pleasure in the simple things, like petting a puppy. The express their feelings to each other openly and honestly, like Noah admitting he kissed another girl and Katie getting mad. They are tuned into the needs of their friends and stand ready to help them whenever necessary. Do we normal folks do these things? No, we are usually too self-absorbed to notice when a friend is in distress; we are too busy playing games and manipulating each other to be straightforward in our communications; and we are way too busy to take time out of our day to relish petting a puppy. If the kids in Project UP are “different,” then that’s what I want to be. What about you?

State Dance Champions

Last March, we chartered a bus and traveled to Bessemer, where Project UP's junior and senior companies participated in a dance competition. They were the only competitors who had special needs - or should I say they were the only competitors who had obvious special needs, since we've already established, thanks to Abbey, that everyone has special needs.

Abbey playing drums during summer camp

At any rate, there were a couple hundred dance studios from across the state who entered in this competition, where they were being judged on everything from the originality of their choreography to their costumes and of course, on their execution, training and precision as they performed their numbers. There was an astounding amount of young talent in the large auditorium where the competition was held, and hundreds of people there to support the competitors.

Project UP's junior company entered a jazz dance number. There were 8 girls in the piece, aged 13-15, several of them new to our programs and not experienced in performing in front of a large audience. The veterans of the group kept the newcomers calm as they prepared to perform. But there was one glitch that had us all worried. Because of the set up of the auditorium, there was no place for Hayley to stand so that she could cue and direct the kids. Normally, Hayley finds a place in front of the kids so that she can offer them direction, remind them of upcoming changes in formation and, in general, give them the support they need to remember their dances. But at this huge competition, there was no way for her to be positioned anywhere that would allow the kids to see her. They were on their own - completely - for the first time ever.

Hayley helping the kids on stage during rehearsals

They took the stage with tentative grins on their faces. By the second 8-count, we could tell they had found their rhythm and were "killing it." As they progressed through the choreography, we could see their confidence take over and saw them do the routine to perfection, never missing a cue or a step. All of us were blown away by their performance. A spontaneous standing ovation broke out in the audience, with the loudest cheering I've ever heard at one of these competitions - and believe me, people cheer loudly for their kids at these events. But the applause for our kids was the loudest, most genuine and most inspired cheering I've ever experienced.

As the kids exited the stage, Anna G. collapsed in her mothers arms, sobbing inconsolably. We all feared something had happened, like an injury, because of the way Anna G. was crying. We all kept asking her what was wrong and when she finally could breathe enough to tell us what was the matter, here's what she said: "I'm just so happy. We did it."

Anna C. Katie and Anna G. clowning around

Of course, every one of us broke down at that moment too. Anna G. stated something profound in those two little sentences. She was just so happy that she had conquered a challenge, risen to the occasion and for the first time ever, performed a dance number with no assistance from her teacher. She was proud of herself, proud of her team and relieved that they had accomplished something so huge. That was a moment that I will never forget.

Together, the Junior and Senior Companies performed another number and received the same support and enthusiasm from the audience. And then it was time for the awards.

At a dance competition, all the participants are called on stage and the MC announces the winners in each of the categories. I was proud enough just to see our kids sitting on stage, surrounded by typical dancers - "normal" kids who are able to dance without the barriers our kids have to overcome. And then the unthinkable happened. Both of our dance numbers received platinum awards - the highest award given based on the judges exacting scores. But even better than that, the Junior Company's dance won first place overall in its division, beating out several other "typical" dance studios to claim the top prize.

Usually, when a winner's name is called at a dance competition, there is polite applause from the other competitors on stage. These are, after all, competitions, and dancers are highly competitive folks! But when Project UP's Junior Company was named the overall winner, the other dancers on stage applauded with an enthusiasm they would normally reserve for their own dance studios. They extended high-fives and fist-pumps to our kids and some of them even stood up, to join the audience in the standing ovation that the audience was giving. Alan and I were so emotional, we couldn't even look at each other or we would have gone into what Oprah calls "The Ugly Cry!"

After the competition, we went as a group to a restaurant in Bessemer, the oldest restaurant in Jefferson County with an extensive menu, white tablecloths and in general, is a lovely dining experience. They have private banquet rooms and we had reserved one for our group of about 60 kids, parents and volunteers. I saw a look of trepidation on the head waitress' face when she saw us - all these people, with 20+ kids with special needs can appear to be a tall order to fill! The kids all wanted to sit at their own table, without their parents, and even I was a bit nervous at how that would go. Many of our kids are either non-verbal or have speech impediments that make it difficult to understand what they are saying. The kids refused to let their parents help them order and only reluctantly agreed to allow me to help when the waitress came to their table. Each child politely said what they wanted to eat, thanked the waitress for taking their orders and patiently waited their turn. When all the orders were placed, I left them alone at their table, watching to see if any antics or problems might develop.

Now, I've taken a lot of teenagers out to a lot of restaurants in my day - I have two kids of my own and was always the mom who would end up taking everyone's kids out to eat after events. I have never seen a more well-behaved group of young people in my life. Sure, there was some loud laughter, some bathroom humor, some friendly teasing of each other. But not one kid got up from their seat, not one kid failed to put their napkins in their laps or use their utensils (most of my kid's friends would tear into their food like neanderthals when eating out, would cause problems for the wait staff, make impossible and rude demands and, in general, act like teenagers when I took them out to eat).

When we left, Alan approached the head waitress and thanked her for her patience with our large group. She looked at him, with tears streaming down her cheeks, and said, "No, we thank you. We have been blessed more than you will ever know by meeting these kids and waiting on them today."

Our kids beat the odds every day. They overcome challenges, step over hurdles, charge through barriers everywhere they go. What it takes for them to navigate the world, what resources they have to draw from just to do things the rest of us take for granted, is inspiring and amazing to me. And every time someone else meets them, sees them perform, or has an interaction with them, hearts and minds are changed and stereotypes are erased. To play a role in facilitating that is the greatest blessing I have ever received.

So, here's to champions everywhere! True champions are people who work hard to accomplish a goal, dedicate themselves to perfecting their skills, accept victory with humility and defeat without bitterness. And I've never met any greater champions than the kids in Project UP!

First Place Overall Winners at Alabama State Dance Championships, March 2012