PE this year has been different from every other year. In a way, that’s not a bad thing. With the exception of seventh grade, I’ve always had PE teachers who pushed me too hard (and that’s not easy for me to admit) or were outright mean. This year, my PE teacher is very nice. Due to construction, we haven’t had to get dressed in our PE uniforms very much, and whenever I try to open my locker I can work the combination lock on the first try (something I had to practice for a very long time).
Something that’s also different is I have a friend in PE.
On the second or third day of PE class, we were walking laps around the gym. I was going pretty slow, and it was easy for other kids to catch up to me. A special education class had come into the gym a little while ago and a few of the kids in the class had run up to my class and asked our names.
I know that it cannot be easy to have a cognitive difference, but I admire how outgoing many kids who have intellectual challenges are.
A girl was walking behind me with her aide (actually, she was pretty much pulling her aide forward, with long strides) and almost passed me, so I said: “I’m sorry; I walk pretty slow. If you want, you can go ahead of me.”
“Oh, no. You’re fine,” the aide said, smiling with amusement at the girl. “She likes to walk pretty fast.”
“Oh, okay,” I said, and smiled at the girl. She strode forward and clasped my hand in hers, asking, “Walk with me?”
Of course, I agreed, and she pulled me around the gym with her aide shouting at her to slow down. “We friends! This my friend!” she declared to everyone within earshot, and I grinned.
It would be so nice if making friends were always that easy.
Every time she spotted me from then on, she would grin, run over, and grab my hand. The first few times, her aide had an apologetic expression on her face, but after a while, I guess she realized that I didn’t mind at all. Quite the opposite, actually. I had no friends in PE up until that point because no one wanted to hang out in PE with the person who struggled physically. Other kids my age struggled to accept me. The girl who’d been walking behind me that day—now my friend—accepted me the instant she grabbed my hand. I just wish other people would do the same for her.
She has Down syndrome, and because of that, other kids in my grade tend to avoid her because they’re unsure of what to say. In fact, they avoid her and the other kids in her special education class.
Needless to say, I do not. Everyone needs a friend. Not to mention, some kids could live ten lifetimes and not learn to accept others for who they are. She did it in about five seconds—probably less. My physical differences didn’t—and don’t—matter to her.
So yes, I would much prefer her company to a lot of others.
We had a routine: we walked around the gym—always holding hands (I guess she felt more secure that way. I didn’t mind; the gesture made me feel protective, almost like she was the little sister I never really had); we jogged (she had to let go of my hand because she liked to jog so fast that I couldn’t keep up); we did our stretches (neither of us could balance on one leg by ourselves, so her aide held both of our hands) and then we played badminton.
I am awful at badminton. She is much more physically adept than I am, but badminton is not one of her strengths, either. We are equally matched, so it is probably good that we play together. It would require patience—more patience than any physically strong kid our age would probably have—to play badminton with either of us, so we play by ourselves.
About two weeks later, we were walking around the gym, hand in hand, when I heard snickering behind us. I turned around. It was a group of really tall sophomore boys. “They’re holding hands,” one boy whispered, but not quietly at all. I could still hear him.
“Are they in kindergarten?” another boy asked sarcastically.
I glared at them but said nothing. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it in front of her.
All they saw was two girls holding hands, one of them with Down syndrome and the other with a slight limp, in a culture that is largely afraid of differences.
That’s so sad to me. I wasn’t embarrassed, but I was mad on my friend’s behalf. She didn’t know what had happened, and that was okay. There was no reason to cause her unhappiness just because of two stupid boys who couldn’t accept anyone different from them.
Because those boys don’t know her. All they saw—as unfortunate as it is—was her Down syndrome. Down syndrome is not bad and it is not something to be ashamed of, but it is not what defines my friend either.
No, those boys didn’t know her at all. They don’t know that she may not say anything when she’s happy, but she’ll smile at you and that’s more than enough. They don’t know that she expresses “thank you” in her own way. They don’t know that she loves drawing and coloring. They don’t know that she likes to wear bracelets and loves dressing up. They don’t know that she wants to be a singer when she’s older. They don’t know that she wants to get her own way, but really, don’t we all? They don’t know that she’s perfectly physically capable. They don’t know that she’ll hold your hand, not embarrassed in the least, and it’s one of the best feelings in the world, understanding that someone needs you even when you feel physically incompetent.
The most important thing those boys don’t know is that she has more determination than almost anyone I’ve ever met. They don’t see the set of her jaw when we’re playing badminton and she wants “just one more try”. They don’t see her trying to play basketball even when another girl stole the ball from her and cut right in front of her. They do see her trying so hard to be friendly, asking everyone’s names—even theirs—although they snickered when they told her, but they don’t know how much persistence that takes—to ask people questions even when they ignore you.
Those boys don’t realize that my friendship with her is not an embarrassment to me. They don’t understand that she’s my friend because I accept her. They don’t understand that my friend is so much more than a diagnosis. Mostly, those boys don’t understand how to accept someone for who they are, no matter their differences.
Ever since I met my friend, I’ve been so grateful. She has taught me so much about perseverance, persistence, friendship, and acceptance. I have a friend in PE. I need her and she needs me. We’ll get through PE hand in hand—no matter what anyone else thinks.