Staying Open

It happened after an event in the high school gymnasium. I don’t remember the event, but the after-scene is a moving photograph vivid in my mind. Wil approached a group of male high school peers on the gymnasium floor. At his approach, the circle broke with fist bumps, hellos, and high-fives with Wil. Two boys asked him a few questions, which drew Wil into the circle. Wil’s words – spoken with a slight stutter as he often does when he has so much to say, but his brain struggles to push the words out as quickly as he thinks them – had their attention. When Wil finished sharing, the boys resumed their conversation. The boys talked and laughed; the circle grew subconsciously tighter. Wil stood in the same place but found himself on the periphery.

These boys were not consciously excluding Wil. They were engrossed in their own stories and had forgotten Wil was there. It broke my heart to watch Wil walk around the circle of boys trying to find ways to re-insert himself.

Contrast this with Wil choosing to sit with a group of boys in the lunchroom mid-year. He one day, seemingly randomly, positioned himself at their table. They all welcomed him in and he joined them every day after that. The lunch table is also a more conducive environment for Wil to remain prominent while everyone is seated around a table. He can more adequately speak at his own pace. A few years ago, I spoke with a classmate about when Wil randomly sat at her lunch table. She said that at the time there was a lot of drama and gossip happening at their table. When Wil joined them, the drama stopped and the fun returned.

Wil recently went to his friend, Will D.’s, graduation party. Will D. also has a disability but has a much higher athletic ability than Wil T. Will D. has run ½ marathons and was on the track, cross-country, and baseball teams. As such, many typically developing athletic classmates attended Will D.’s graduation party. Two of these teammates were playing cornhole out in the sideyard when we arrived. These two boys gave a hearty hello to Wil T. and invited him to play cornhole with them. All the players found an equilibrium; their conversations were well-matched, relaxed, and fun. Watching this filled my heart.

At the water park yesterday Wil was floating down the lazy river in his tube. The lazy river is designed like an oblong circle, which splits and rejoins at one end. At the split, you choose to go under faucets spouting water or take the faucet-free dry option. Wil would alternate his decisions at the split, weighing more heavily on the “get wet” side. I watched as he by-passed certain tubers, and slowed to join others. He hung around a group of tween girls for some time, laughing when they laughed, choosing the same split in the river as the girls did. He then moved on to join a group of three young men. The men engaged him in some talk and fist-bumped him. When those young men exited the river Wil joined other young-ish groups. Down syndrome was on his side in this environment. No one questioned him, they immediately accepted him when he floated into their circle. Even if they didn’t converse, they shared the enjoyment and togetherness of the moment.

I wonder, what would the world look like if we all just opened our circles a little?