December 10, 2006
I've mentioned Sara before, in reference to a photo their teacher took of the two of them sitting in class together, ignoring everyone else and giggling together as they engaged in secret girl talk, BBoW style. Sara is Schuyler's little girl crush, and together they are just heartbreakers, both for what they can't do and for what they can. Also, they're both going to be boykillers one day.
When we walked into the McDonald's Playland for the party, Schuyler and Sara squealed in delight when they saw each other and crashed into each other in a high-speed, full-contact hug. They played together the whole time, once again sort of subbing the rest of the girls, most of whom were neurotypical kids from Sara's Brownie troop.
I have to say, there's something endearing to me about the idea of two broken little girls being snobs to the other, non-disabled kids. If you don't talk with a box, you're not cool enough to run with them. Sorry, but that's just how they roll. Go play with your Bratz dolls instead.
The thing that I thought was the most touching was how Schuyler and Sara talk to each other. They weren't using their devices much at all, but rather spoke in their little Martian languages (which sound remarkably similar to each other) and in a sign language that they seem to have developed together out of ASL but have now made totally their own.
Schuyler has neurotypical friends, but those friendships never seem fair. It makes me crazy, watching good-natured Schuyler end up being someone's plaything because she can't easily talk, but it happens every time and I suppose it's inevitable. Two years ago, it would have seemed unthinkable that Schuyler would one day find a friend, let alone several friends, who live in this world but originate in hers. The Box Class has given her a peer group, and even considering all the good things she's gotten out of this program, that may be the one I value the most.
God, I'm going to miss that little girl next week.
As soon as I get back, Schuyler and I are going to Odessa to see my family and watch my best friend from high school perform as soloist with our old high school band. Manhattan to West Texas in a single day? The culture shock may very well kill me.