I wanted to say: “Don’t you dare look at her like that, you little assholes”, but instead I ushered her away.

I wanted to say: “Don’t you dare look at her like that, you little assholes”, but instead I ushered her away.

I suppose I should give you some background.

Kate had some birthday money to spend this past weekend. She wanted to go shopping, so off we went. She dressed herself, which, if you’re the parent of a child with autism, is a total fucking win, but her choices are not exactly typical.

Kate chose hot pink leotards and refused to add a skirt even when I explained to her that leotards technically are not pants. She added a ‘too small’ t-shirt and finished off the look with a flowered headband worthy of a royal wedding. She was ready to go, and choosing my battles wisely, I ushered her to the van and off we went.

She often wears costumes and dresses herself according to current interests, like her decision to wear a 'cowboy' get-up to her most recent birthday. Most of us, love this about her. 

We entered the craft store, because she is obsessed with these little hard plastic animals they carry and she was interested in adding to her collection.

She browsed their selection and chatted happily to herself while I waited in the aisle for her to choose her prize.

I glanced up when two girls, maybe a year or two older than Miss Kate, though they would not know that because she is tall for her age, were standing at the end of the aisle, staring at my girl. Normally, I don’t spend time reading the micro-expressions of tweens but their disdain was clear. They snickered and stared.

Now, I’ve worked with children for my entire career and I knew these girls would never show disdain for a visibly disabled child. They would be the first to offer to push a wheelchair, or spend recess helping our most obviously vulnerable children. They, and their parents, would pride themselves on how selfless these little girls are to their classmate with down syndrome or how kindly they offer to play with the non-verbal kiddo in their class. When these things are not really selfless at all, but often an attempt to gain recognition for their efforts. These same children, when faced with a child that is not visibly different but exhibit minor characteristics or interests different than their own, will often recoil, because, to them, to be a little different is a very serious 'social sin' and acknowledging this allows them permanent membership to a very elite club. 

I became fiercely protective of Kate, as any parent will do, and walked over to my girl, trying to block their view. They would bond over their mutual contempt for a peer that missed the mark on fashion, or age-level toys, or any of the strict social structure these girls have built for themselves.

Miss Kate, oblivious to her mean-girl counterparts, continued to try out each and every plastic animal on the shelf, complete with animal noises and grand gestures.

The girls giggled and walked away.

I actually wanted to scream in the faces of small children at the craft store for staring at my girl like she was, in some way, “wrong”. I wanted them to turn and run in fear of this crazy woman who might, at any time, unload her giant basket of overpriced art supplies, right on their smug little heads.

Wait, that didn’t feel right. Why, on earth, would a relatively even-tempered  Kindergarten teacher, like myself, ever wish to scream in the faces of a couple of entitled little monst...okay, I’m clearly still angry. They were just little girls. They were just little girls who saw something that made them stare, and maybe they couldn’t help themselves, because maybe their world is so rigidly constructed by social media, and youtubers and whatever else pre-teens worship, that they couldn’t manage to hide their snide little expressions when they saw and eight year old that didn’t quite look or behave like the status-quo.

It didn’t make me feel better.

Kate was no worse for wear, as usual. The kid is bullet-proof, I swear. But on that day, I wasn’t.

This isn’t a cautionary tale. Most kids are great. Especially this latest generation of kids who are educated in an inclusive classroom. There are still a few, though; a few you’ll come across on the long way that will crush you with their repugnance, and they will remind us that we still have so much work to do.

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