They Just Don’t Get It
Ups and Downs
Possible intro? My little brother has Down Syndrome. He looks different, talks different, acts different than other other kids. Embarrassment, confusion, shame; all things I felt growing up because he wasn’t “normal.” Countless meltdowns, endless stares and whispers, and enormous responsibility by the age of twelve was my normal. But my normal was also immense patience, unconditional love, and a deep understanding and empathy for those who just don’t get it. The Rice County fair was my brother’s favorite part of summer. On this particularly scorching summer day, my siblings and I were the responsibility of an older cousin who didn’t know what else to do with us, and had taken us on an …show more content…
It’s part of Down Syndrome. I’m used to it; I know how to handle it. I get down on my knees, being eye level helps because it forces him to make eye contact. Persuading, pleading him to get out of the car. It’s no use. Everyone else has gotten off the ride, a line of eager children clank up the ramp, waiting for their turn that for some reason isn’t coming yet. Panic is rising inside me. Please get off the ride, I’ll get you a pop, we can get right back on if you just get off. Nothing. In my peripheral vision I can see Frizzy-Hair, storming our way with her eyebrows furrowed so far down her face I couldn’t see her eyes. She stopped so close to me I could feel her dragon breath on my face. I sensed the impending scolding before the words even left her mouth. You need to get off the ride now, there are so many people waiting. Don’t you think I know that? Patience obviously wasn’t her virtue. Then came the explanation. Down Syndrome...he doesn’t understand...trying to explain to him. Well he needs to get off the ride right now or I’m calling security. Security. I felt the color drain from my face and my knees clacked together. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, I was trying my hardest. We were just …show more content…
Doesn’t she have any patience? Can’t she see I’m trying? Why doesn’t she understand? Security was called. People in line were murmuring, whispering, staring. All things I was used to, but the warm pink of embarrassment still flooded my cheeks. The security guard strolled up, he looked like a policeman. Handcuffs glinted in a holster on his belt. He told me he would need to escort us off the ride, but he didn’t have steam boiling out of his ears like Frizzy-Hair; his voice was calm and almost...soothing. Once again, justification is given. Down Syndrome...he doesn’t understand...trying to explain to him. Handcuffs then knelt down on his knees. Eye level. He pulled out a reflective gold sticker, a police badge, and handed it to Max. He held out his hand and Max immediately lifted himself out of the car. Then he gently grabbed my hand too. His hand was warm and comforting, and he smelled like sugary donuts fresh from a bakery. Frizzy-Hair was shaking her head behind us, out of disgust or anger or shame, I didn’t know. We rattled off the metal structure, his handcuffs jangling. We were reunited with family, and for the third time, an explanation. got us an ice cream, and told us sometimes all you need is a little patience and understanding, and everything will work out. He was
Ups and Downs
Possible intro? My little brother has Down Syndrome. He looks different, talks different, acts different than other other kids. Embarrassment, confusion, shame; all things I felt growing up because he wasn’t “normal.” Countless meltdowns, endless stares and whispers, and enormous responsibility by the age of twelve was my normal. But my normal was also immense patience, unconditional love, and a deep understanding and empathy for those who just don’t get it. The Rice County fair was my brother’s favorite part of summer. On this particularly scorching summer day, my siblings and I were the responsibility of an older cousin who didn’t know what else to do with us, and had taken us on an …show more content…
It’s part of Down Syndrome. I’m used to it; I know how to handle it. I get down on my knees, being eye level helps because it forces him to make eye contact. Persuading, pleading him to get out of the car. It’s no use. Everyone else has gotten off the ride, a line of eager children clank up the ramp, waiting for their turn that for some reason isn’t coming yet. Panic is rising inside me. Please get off the ride, I’ll get you a pop, we can get right back on if you just get off. Nothing. In my peripheral vision I can see Frizzy-Hair, storming our way with her eyebrows furrowed so far down her face I couldn’t see her eyes. She stopped so close to me I could feel her dragon breath on my face. I sensed the impending scolding before the words even left her mouth. You need to get off the ride now, there are so many people waiting. Don’t you think I know that? Patience obviously wasn’t her virtue. Then came the explanation. Down Syndrome...he doesn’t understand...trying to explain to him. Well he needs to get off the ride right now or I’m calling security. Security. I felt the color drain from my face and my knees clacked together. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, I was trying my hardest. We were just …show more content…
Doesn’t she have any patience? Can’t she see I’m trying? Why doesn’t she understand? Security was called. People in line were murmuring, whispering, staring. All things I was used to, but the warm pink of embarrassment still flooded my cheeks. The security guard strolled up, he looked like a policeman. Handcuffs glinted in a holster on his belt. He told me he would need to escort us off the ride, but he didn’t have steam boiling out of his ears like Frizzy-Hair; his voice was calm and almost...soothing. Once again, justification is given. Down Syndrome...he doesn’t understand...trying to explain to him. Handcuffs then knelt down on his knees. Eye level. He pulled out a reflective gold sticker, a police badge, and handed it to Max. He held out his hand and Max immediately lifted himself out of the car. Then he gently grabbed my hand too. His hand was warm and comforting, and he smelled like sugary donuts fresh from a bakery. Frizzy-Hair was shaking her head behind us, out of disgust or anger or shame, I didn’t know. We rattled off the metal structure, his handcuffs jangling. We were reunited with family, and for the third time, an explanation. got us an ice cream, and told us sometimes all you need is a little patience and understanding, and everything will work out. He was