In which we discover that one girl's opinion does't matter at all

A few weeks ago I went to Kai’s school to make pizza with his class. We were running late, as usual, and I had a particularly hard time motivating Kai to get in the car, and then to get out of the car, and then to walk faster, and then to walk less quickly, and then to cross the street.

We passed another family getting out of their car, a little girl and her mother.

“That’s Kai. He’s a bad kid,” the little girl said.

I turned to get a better look at the girl. She wasn’t in Kai’s class, so I kept walking.

“Shhh,” her mother said. “That’s not a nice thing to say.”

“Well, it’s true,” the girl insisted. “He doesn’t follow the rules.”

“Well, that’s just your opinion,” the mother said in a carrying voice that was probably meant for me to hear.

We crunched along the icy sidewalk, and Kai broke away from me to make footprints in the snow along the playground fence.

“See?” the girl said, vindication in her voice. “He always does stuff like that.”

I paused to let Kai catch up to me, and the girl and her mother passed us.

“But it’s still just your opinion, and you keep your opinions to yourself,” the mother said.

She and her daughter continued to argue about whether it was okay to call Kai a bad kid, never once acknowledging the little boy in question, who was clearly within earshot.

I gave Kai a one-armed hug when he caught up with me. “You’re an awesome kid,” I said.

:::

I invited his entire class to his birthday party. I didn’t expect very many kids to attend, largely because the party was in the suburbs, a place where die-hard city folk fear to tread.

But the final guest count was 49, 30 of whom were children. Most of Kai’s classmates showed up, some with brothers and sisters in tow.

The party was the talk of school on the Friday before. All of the kids were very excited, except, of course, Kai. This was not because it was a surprise or because he wasn’t looking forward to it, but because Kai doesn’t have much of a relationship with time outside of the here and now, and therefore didn't really realize he was having a party.

During circle time, most of the kids shared something about seeing Kai over the weekend. They knew about the robot cake. They were excited to try a new venue. One little girl in particular was moved to share.

“I’m going to Kai’s party on Saturday,” she said softly.

This was Friday, March 2. It was the very first time she’d ever spoken during circle time since starting school in August.

:::

I never really said anything to his class about his autism. Some of the parents read the blog. I've specifically told a couple of people. The rest know he's different, but they seem to be content to leave it at that.

In the third quarter, parents are invited to observe their child in the classroom for an hour. They're supposed to be wathching their child in full Montessori action, but I get the impression that a lot of them watch Kai.

"He's come a long way since last year," one said.

Another was impressed with Kai's knowledge of shapes, noting his affinity for hexagons.

In the beginning, I had no idea what to expect from the other parents, the ones whose children talk about their school day and sit cross-legged in circle time. I know their children tell them that Kai stands on tables instead of listening to the story, that be blurts non-sequitors during group time, and God knows what else.

Kai used to wear a weighted vest to school. I remember a parent at one pre-school we went to. We were both hustling our children up the stairs to the classroom, and her daughter, a girl I'd been told spent a lot of time with Kai, greeted us.

"Hi, Kai! Mommy! That's Kai!"

The girl's mom looked at Kai, her eyes raking the vest. "That's Kai?" she asked, and I could see the reservation, the fear that whatever caused Kai to wear that crazy vest might be catching.

I worried for a long time about whether he would be a clown or an outcast at school, that those roles would be established early on.

But funny thing, without me doing anything at all, some things have just worked out exactly as they should. Kai has friends, and lots of them. Kids with gracious and supportive parents, kids who are perfectly happy to connect with Kai in his own terms.

Thirty children showed up to his party, each bearing a present that they'd picked out themselves, hoping he'd like it. I heard that over and over. He picked it out himself, he was so excited to give it to Kai. She was so excited to come, she always says that Kai is her favorite kid to play with.

:::

When Kai’s friend Mary Jane showed up at his party, Kai ran to greet her. They wrapped their arms around one another and then, hand in hand, ran off to play.