The random views of Scott KissingerI met a first grader I’ll call V on Monday. My company organizes various “Cares” events throughout the year and this one involved chaperoning a few dozen students from a home for children at risk for an outing at the Singapore Zoo. I was assigned to chaperone V for the day.
V was very shy when we were introduced. We sat on the floor of the home’s main hall. There were five chaperones and four children in our group. V didn’t talk, wouldn’t shake hands, or really even acknowledge us as we tried to get to know the kids. I asked V a few questions about her socks (which had monkeys on them) and her bag (which had a famous football player on it) to try to break the ice, but she didn’t respond. I thought this was going to be a very long day.
After a few minutes, V reached toward me and placed her index finger on my forearm. She asked me why I had so much hair there (I’m a typical Caucasian male and have a lot of body hair, unlike most Asians). The other girls giggled. I mumbled something about being born that way, which V seemed to accept. Ice broken.
As we assembled to move towards the buses, one of the adults from the home mentioned something about how brave I was to be watching V because she needs a lot of attention. I wasn’t quite sure what that meant but would soon find out.
On the bus V decided (with a little prodding from me) that she would like to sit in the front seat so that we could see out the front window. She promptly turned around and looked towards the back of the bus for the first five minutes, mostly silent, thinking about something. She then turned around and stood in front of the seat, looking out the side window, leaning over the partition to play with the hair of the guide in the jump seat in front of us, and finally resting with her chin in her hands looking out the windshield. I adopted the same posture and we stayed like that for a good portion of the trip.
When we got off the bus and gathered for the orientation (we were to play a game, and the guide was explaining the rules), V noticed a lizard in the leaves and left to investigate. I coaxed her back but then she began to play on the bench with a giant overhanging leaf. She had absolutely no interest in the game or the rules. She started to wander off again and one of the home’s supervisors scolded her. V stood quietly for a few moments then clambered back up on the bench to play with the leaf again.
As the orientation finished and the teams moved into the zoo to begin the game, it became clear that V and I would be at best occasional contributors to our team. She was distracted by anything and everything. She moved at her own pace, alternating between intense interest in an animal or a bug and then racing across the path to touch a flower or dip her hand in a stream. We were constantly behind the team and they would occasionally have to send scouts back to find us. When she would run away from me I would call her name but she almost never responded. I did a lot of chasing.
Early in the stroll one of my colleagues saw my plight and came back to help. We each held one of V’s hands and then took a few quick steps ahead to swing V into the air. Little did we know what we started. She loved that and we must have heard “one more time” about 200 times that day. The team game involved answering questions based on information from various placards around the zoo, and it got so my colleague and I would tell V that we would only swing her after the team answered the next question. Of course she didn’t get one swing she got five or six, but at least it was not constant.
By now you have figured out that V has some hyperactivity and/or attention disorder. I didn’t ask for the exact diagnosis because knowing it would not have made a difference to the way I interacted with her. We were at the zoo for about five hours and I would say she was like I described above for more than four of them. She did sit reasonably still at lunch and she was surprisingly attentive during a 20 minute stage show that involved a story about the rainforest (which was probably over her head) and a lot of trained animals. But otherwise she was a swirl of unfocused activity.
Several times during the day the adults from the home remarked to me how difficult V is and thanked me for my patience with her. I have to say that it was, in fact, easy—she is a beautiful child. She laughed - a big gap-toothed smile from the loss of her front baby teeth - almost the entire day. She ran with unbridled enthusiasm towards the next object of her attention, feet pointed out and arms pumping furiously. About 15 minutes into the day she let me hold her hand without protest, and by the end of the day she would grasp my hand unbidden. I had gained the trust of the little girl who wouldn’t even say hello when we were introduced.
After lunch V and I walked around the kids zoo while the others finished their meals. She wanted to feed the goats and pulled up grass to stick through the fence. It was probably not allowed (this being a zoo and Singapore, after all), but I decided not to be too adamant about stopping her because she had probably been told “no” a million times in her short life and a little discovery on her own couldn’t hurt. She is clearly someone who does not fit the mold and that has to be difficult in a society that places so much stock in conformity.
There are many other episodes to relate from my day with V — squashing a fly on the glass in the baboon enclosure, having her picture taken on top of all the bronze animal sculptures, refusing to walk because her legs were “sleepy” then racing off to the next animal, being surprised by a cheetah who growled and leapt at the glass towards her, deciding at the last second that she really didn’t want that giant snake put around her neck for a picture, being scared of but eventually riding the pony as the guest of the generous father who had an extra ticket (and earning looks and comments of jealousy from her mates), twirling her around so that we both got dizzy, having our picture taken and putting the Polaroid in her ID lanyard, going missing from the gift shop for a few nervous moments at the very end of the day, and waving goodbye (I’d like to think to me in particular) as her bus pulled away from ours in the parking lot. I’d grown attached to V in the few hours we were together. When the kids and volunteers separated just before leaving, I looked for her in the crowd and moved around so that I could see her. I was sad to say goodbye.
I’ve thought a lot about V in the last 36 hours — what a beautiful child she is, how much fun I had with her, how easy it was for me to be patient with her condition, and how difficult it must be to live with her 24/7. She must require constant attention. I can see how a parent who is lacking in parenting skills or time or both would be completely overwhelmed. I can appreciate why the caregivers at the home have to establish rigid rules to keep V in line. And I can understand that not only the rules but their rigidity must be antithetical to the very core of V’s being. No doubt she struggles with her environment as much as the adults in her life struggle with her.
I’ve also thought about V’s future. She is beautiful and innocent, if challenging, now. What will she be like as a teenager? Will her condition moderate, or worsen? Will she become frustrated and belligerent as she becomes more independent and chafes at the rules she is subjected to? Can a child with her condition, in her economic and parental environment, hope to develop to her full potential? Does she have a promising future, or is she consigned to a life of struggle in a hard world that will not care about her condition nor accommodate her needs? These are big questions, and as important and immediate as they are to this little girl who has touched my heart, they apply equally to millions of children around the world. My day with V has certainly opened my eyes to the plight of children with her condition.
I hope to see V again. I’d like to buy her a new bag, if the rules permit, because somehow I don’t think she cares much about the footballer who graces her current bag. I’d like to think that she will remember our day at the zoo as a special time, though I think I will remember her long after she has forgotten me. What a beautiful child. What a special day.
Permalink: http://tmblr.co/Zk0w2x9CupMt
