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Jewish World Review Feb. 23, 1998 /6 Adar, 5759
Of mitzvahs and miracles
ALONG THE PATH OF LIFE, milestones line the sides of the road to help us mark
the passage of each step. Some of them are bigger than others, and they are
different for each person.
As parents, we use these milestones to keep track of the progress of our
children. The first smile, first tooth, first step, first word.
For my daughter, the first word was early, every milestone was in its proper
place. I used to think she had read Dr. Spock before she was born.
But the words didn’t come. And then finally, they did come. And they were
bizarre. Out of context. Hard to comprehend.
Jeff had a communications handicap. He was born with global dysphasia, the
inability to process receptive or expressive language.
Never mind the details. What’s important is that he had excellent and
extensive therapy, meeting with Mrs. Bette (Bette Molinari DeFusco, speech-
language pathologist) a minimum of once a week for five years. His schooling
until the middle of second grade was in special schools with very special
teachers.
One day, I was called into his school for a meeting, and told that it was time
to "mainstream" Jeffrey. I felt as though I were giving birth all over again.
After the first year in public school, the child study team told me it was
going to declassify Jeffrey. That meant, no more IEP (individualized education
plan, which the teachers are obligated to follow in order to insure he
received the most thorough and efficient education). No more special requests.
Jeff was to be treated like every other child.
Nervously, I called Mrs. Bette, who had guided Jeff’s education for the
previous five years.
"Do you think he’s ready?" I asked.
"Actually," she said, "I was going to tell you, Jeff doesn’t need to come to
me anymore either."
Suddenly, without warning, the umbilical cord had been snapped. I felt
frightened, alone, and intimidated. But hey, that was my problem. Jeff was
fine.
For five years, Jeff had been my occupation. My job was "mother of a learning
disabled child" and the job description included such things as: going to bat
for him in difficult situations; doing at least an hour of therapy homework
with him every day; translating his language into words; finding social
situations he could handle; arguing with the child study team, the teachers,
the therapists, the doctors; making sure Jeff understood what was expected of
him in any situation.
It was a full time job.
And suddenly, I had been fired.
In his Hebrew classes, I had always made it a point to discuss Jeff’s learning
styles with his teachers. I couldn’t picture him standing on the bima, and
speaking in English, let alone reading from the Torah. But his Hebrew school
teachers assured me he was doing well and would be able to celebrate his bar
mitzvah conventionally.
Jeff’s bar mitzvah, therefore, marked more than a passage of time. It marked the
passage of a miracle.
I never heard Jeff practice his Torah portion. He swore to me that he was
studying, but he didn’t want my help or interference, only coming to me with
specific little problems. He had trouble memorizing one line, and we worked on
it over and over. His d’var Torah was a little harder, since language still
occasionally posed problems for him. But with very little help from me, he
wrote it by himself.
In keeping with the tradition of our synagogue, Jeff led the Friday night
service the night before his bar mitzvah. He was confident, competent, and
seemed completely at ease.
It was hard to keep back the tears.
At his bar mitzvah, Jeff did a good job. Even when he stumbled during the
Torah reading, there was no panic, just a calm kind of pause while he
carefully sounded out the words to himself.
At this point, it had been several years since Jeff had seen Mrs. Bette. She
and her husband came to his bar mitzvah. A
photo of that moment hangs in her office, for other parents to see. "If Jeff
Heller can master the language," she tells the parents of her young patients,
"your child can too."
Jeff is now 16 years old. He is learning to drive --- another milestone.
Academically, he has done very well. His classes are honors classes. Verbally,
you have to wonder when he took the plug out. The words come fast and
furiously, mostly appropriate, always highly intelligent. He loves to read, to
talk, to chat with friends all over the world on his computer.
Oh, and he
helps Mrs. Bette learn how to use her computer.
His bar mitzvah was the turning point for me. It was then that I began to
accept the fact that Jeff could stand on his own without constant back up.
He makes his own decisions, guides his own life, and handles his own problems.
And sometimes, he passes life’s milestones quietly.
Just like the rest of us.
By Marlene Heller
For my son, the first word came agonizingly slowly. He crawled and walked and
teethed and smiled and laughed and sat up, all at appropriate times.
New JWR contributor Marlene Heller is editor of The Jewish Star, published 22 times yearly by the Jewish Federation of Greater Middlesex County. You may contact the publication for subscription information by clicking here.
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