To be transformed

In 1998, I was teaching middle school students in Minnesota. I wasn’t aware that Australian sociologist Judy Singer and American journalist Harvey Blume were discussing the idea of individual differences in brain variation and neurodiversity. What I did know at that time was Parker Palmer’s book The Courage to Teach. His words, written then, echo what I’ve come to understand now, particularly as relating to neurodiversity in our family: “As long as we inhabit a universe made homogenous by our refusal to admit otherness, we can maintain the illusion that we possess the truth. . . . Otherness, taken seriously, always invites transformation, calling us not only to new facts and theories and values but also to new ways of living our lives.” 

Inclusive

Though Singer and Blume’s conversations initially focused on differences such as autism and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), our family has come to understand neurodiversity as a word that includes many other ways of thinking. Though our own initial impressions of comprehension and communication were shaped by traditional thought, when people ask us about Rachel and Janneke today, we use the term neurodiverse. We talk about nonverbal cues and eye gaze, just two of the many ways our kids are processing and communicating information.

Fitting in

With the arrival of Rachel and Janneke, our family had to adapt to a new way of living. We visited the local library with the intention of finding books that included wheelchairs and characters with disabilities or specific challenges. I wanted our family to know and welcome what was becoming familiar. Yet, over the years, as our children ventured into school, church, community sports and other public spaces, the concept of difference seemed less celebrated and more squashed. Whatever words we had offered at home about the beauty of being unique seemed to be swallowed up by the quest for uniformity. Neuroscientist Nicole A. Tetreault writes in Insight Into a Bright Mind, “The ‘Goldilocks’ setting for the brain, mind and personality to fit into the range of normal is a part of our earliest teachings and comes from our family, school, community and culture.”

Beauty and brilliance

Last month, Ralph and I met with a local coordinator of a nonprofit provincial association that advocates for persons with intellectual disabilities. We met to discuss the steps of Janneke’s transition process into adulthood (when she turns 18 years old). The coordinator started our meeting asking us to share about Janneke. I don’t take for granted that I was able to respond with confidence, having learned so much over the years through our kids’ unique and beautiful ways of being.

And what about Janneke? She loves rhythmic movement, beams of sunshine, water play and making contact with surfaces. She learns quickly in routine, knowing when to stick out her arms as she is dressed. Most enviable is the relaxed posture she exudes while the rest of the room might be erupting in chaos. A bright mind, indeed.