Spring Concert

It was such a big deal to us when Teddy was included in his school's concert the first time. His second-ever performance was this month, and it was an equally big deal. Teddy absolutely loves music. He will spontaneously burst into dancing when music catches his attention, whether on the radio in the car or a commercial on TV. He dances like nobody's watching, and yet his moves ensure everybody is watching. He loves music with such joy that it's contagious, which you'll see in this post.

I know it takes effort to include children with different needs in mainstream concerts. It requires coordination with the music teacher, the traditional 4th grade teacher and Teddy's amazingly patient and calm special education teacher. It allows others in his class the opportunity to step up and help everyone be successful, whether that's redirecting away from the microphone when it's not their turn or being a partner for a song that includes rhythmic stick whacking (for lack of a better term). 

Might as well dress to impress when you know all eyes will be on you.

But the effort yields amazing results. It gives Teddy the sheer joy of being included, dancing and being with his peers. It gives us as parents and family such joy and pride in what Teddy can do. (It may not seem like much, but Teddy remained in his place for almost a full minute without any physical redirection. That's a minor miracle, especially with so much exciting activity.) It provides the opportunity for the community to experience the joy and abilities of all the children. It allows Teddy and his peers to practice appropriate social skills. 

Perhaps the most amazing thing, though, is that it normalizes Teddy and his peers with different needs in the eyes of their classmates. There were a few of Teddy's classmates who wanted to grab the mic to get more applause because they were doing such a great job (I mean, they were right). Teddy tried to take center stage to show off his dance moves. There were kids who's singing is non-existent aside from excited noises, like Teddy, and others whose dance moves rival Teddy's yet don't quite align to the program. Yet, despite all these differences, the other students weren't phased. They know their classmates and their unique qualities and embrace them for who they are. There was one little boy whom I was so darn proud of for intentionally partnering with someone who needed some extra help and being such a great helper, and I made sure his mom heard that. 

When we include everyone, it doesn't make the concert more perfect. It would be less distracting without children like Teddy. But we're all perfectly imperfect, and our differences make life what it is. I'm so glad that Teddy's classmates are learning to embrace and include from early on, as it's not the case for all children. It was clear which classes have children with different abilities who integrate and which ones don't because it looks strange and weird to those who don't see Teddy's excitement on a regular basis. (I swear I didn't speed up the video. Teddy really was moving his arms that fast because he was that excited.) Inclusion normalizes our differences and quirks ... because we all have them.

Inclusion is a beautiful thing. It doesn't take away from anyone, yet adds to the enjoyment for all.