View From the Window
Courtney Lai-Hing

I glance up from the computer screen and look out the window. I have been working at home. My son is here, too. He has had some problems at school, and his teachers decided he should have a "time out" at home. So here I am -- staring out the window and taking my own "time out" from my work.

We live in a suburb of Montreal, where the school board has committed itself to integrating students with disabilities into regular classrooms with children of the same age. So this year, when my son turned 13, it was a birthday that signaled the beginning of high school. Intellectually, David knew the change that was coming, but he still felt the emotional pull of his old, familiar elementary school. All summer long, he kept asking, "Why do I have to change schools?"

We gave him the usual answers: You have graduated from elementary school and it’s time to move on; you will be learning new and exciting things in high school; some of your friends will be there, too. He finally seemed to accept these explanations and, equipped with a "teenager" backpack and a new pair of running shoes, he headed toward the bus on the first day of school.

The first week passed uneventfully. David seemed to be adjusting well. We had not seen or heard about anything to indicate otherwise. My wife and I breathed a sigh of relief.

The following week, we received a telephone call from school. There had been some problems. The teachers had held off calling; they’d wanted to wait to see if things would improve. But nothing had changed. Perhaps David should spend a few days at home.

By the time I hung up, I was experiencing that sinking feeling one gets after hearing bad news. What should we do next? How can we help our son adjust?

There are times when I feel frustrated and angry. I have long since accepted that God has allowed me to have a child with disabilities; I no longer ask Him why. Instead I ask myself how I can possibly meet all my son’s needs? How can I create an environment that gives him the confidence to participate to the best of his abilities without feeling angry and frustrated? How can I overcome my own frustration so I can work on finding ways to help him? How can I get him out of bed in the morning when he would rather hide under the covers? How can I help him accept himself?

A line from one of Reverend John Donne’s famous meditations runs through my thoughts and startles me with its intensity -- "No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main." It makes me think of all the other families who face the same challenges. I am reminded why my wife and I became members of our local parent support group, the West Island Association For The Intellectually Handicapped. We knew we needed others who could share our pain, our failures, our successes and our joys. In the midst of our soul-searching and self recriminations, we were able to reach out to others. We found friendship and understanding.

I now know what I must do for my son. I must continue to love him unconditionally. I must help him through the tough times. I must be there when he needs an advocate. I must share his pain. I must help him deal with his anger and frustration; in doing so I will reach deep down inside myself and deal with my own emotions.

The wind has picked up and the blue spruce is swaying back and forth in a gentle movement reminiscent of an old rocking chair. One by one, the leaves from the maple are blown high into air. They drift slowly into the neighbor’s yard.

Winter is coming. Soon the ground will be covered with leaves. We will hear the sound of laughter as costumed children drift from house to house on Halloween night. I will be there with my son. He plans to go as Batman; we already have his costume and loot bag. We will enjoy the trick-or-treating and share the candy he collects. I turn away from the window. It is time for me to get back to work.

Courtney Lai-Hing lives in Point-Claire, Quebec, a suburb of Montreal, Canada, with his wife, Elaine and Son, David, 13. Courtney and Elaine also have two older children, a daughter, 22, and son, 24. Courtney, a member of the Institute for Electrical and Electronic Engineers, works as a self-employed consultant. He is also on the board of directors of the West Island Association for the Intellectually Handicapped. Elaine works as an integration aide with the Lakeshore School Board. David, who has cerebral palsy, attends regular classes at a local high school with the help of an integration aide.


Previously published in "Fathers Voices," Exceptional Parent magazine, February, 1996.