Gabriel radiates an electric energy. The clock impulses away too fast for me and too slowly for him, and his tassel coils around his finger, barely droppy. Graduation day is the day we have fantasized of since his first practice.
Gabriel was a content kindergartener who won prizes for sympathy, team building, and interpretation twelve years ago. Nonentity would get in his way, rendering to his teacher. But by first grade, all did. He had trouble fair his teacher, making networks, and following to classroom rules. Our home life was answerable by a therapist; the principal’s office twisted into a second homebased.
Everything altered with a single call Gabriel was postponed for wetting his hair while standing beneath a rain jet. I was proudly given a file of “breaches” by the principal, which included language out of turn, wiggling in his chair, patter a pencil, and even script answers upside down. As I had dreaded, the list presented that his spirit was being crushed. I was firm but icy when I told the school that my son’s education was being deprived of.
I took Gabriel to a psychologist to get solutions. He was provided with ADHD diagnosis next testing. He clutched it immediately. “Am I incapacitated, Mom?” he asked. I clarified that people who learn otherwise are branded by society and grouped together. His “paper” only served as a reminder to the school that he learns in his own way.
Battles fumed over IEPs, 504 plans, and teachers who interrogated him in the years that shadowed. He was even counseled by a middle school counsellor not to accept “such a label.” Gabriel experienced periods of hopelessness, unhappiness, and anxiety. We insisted he stay even though he begged to be homeschooled. He had to learn how to advocate for himself, express his needs, and get by in a civilization that didn’t always get him.
That stubbornness is evident today. He is patter beats, running his feet like trains, and giddy with enthusiasm inside the car. “I did it, Mom! Where’s my bobble?” After avoiding a disaster, he rushes to his friends, who help him fly.
During the rite, parents are told to cheer graciously. We cheer through the tears and completely disregard that when his name is called. Gabriel skips the photograph stop, turns to the audience with a “rock-on” sign, high-fives everyone, almost hits the principal over with his handshake, dances across the stage, and jumps off the stage.
He ignored all orders. It was flawless. His name is Gabriel.
