By Krystal Sieben 
It’s a sunny Tuesday afternoon, I pull up to the yellow curb and hear the flag jangling against the pole. “Hi Teddy,” a girl says as she takes a picture of the flag with her friends. It’s 1:15 p.m., and I drop my son off at the middle school each day so he can attend one class with his peers. Teddy is 12, and we homeschool him the rest of the day so that we have more time for speech therapy, occupational therapy, and 1-1 math with a special education tutor. Teddy has autism.
We walk into the vestibule where the door is locked (as most are in schools these days for reasons I try not to think of), Teddy pushes the buzzer. “Hi I’m Teddy, and I’m here for choir,” he says cheerfully just like we practice.
“Oh, hi Teddy,” a voice says back, radiating genuine affection. The door buzzes and an older high school boy with long hair stops pushing his drum set and holds the door for us.
“Hey, Teddy. How’s it goin’ man?” the older boy asks. He must be one of the student helpers in the special ed room this year. We say our goodbyes, and I go sit in the car and wait. My time in the car each day can get boring, but as a former teacher, I enjoy watching the middle school kids coming and going while I wait.
I pass a group of boys sitting in a circle with worksheets. “Did you just say hi to Teddy?” one boy asks another. “Yeah, Teddy’s GOAT’d,” the other answers, which I am pretty sure is a compliment. The boys go back to talking about something else.
I sit in the car and think about myself in middle school. High school even. I don’t think I can name one person I knew in special education. I definitely didn’t know anyone who was openly gay. My school was almost all white. And I think about how absolutely unaware I must have been. Most everyone I knew was just like me.
I wonder how my son would have been treated at school in the 90s. I stop myself because I don’t want to think about it. I know it wouldn’t be good. It wouldn’t be like now. Kids are different now. Better. Accepting. Colorful. Kind.
Sometimes I wonder if some of the increased anxiety and depression in this generation are a by-product of a heightened sensitivity. If it’s hard paying attention all the time or sitting in a desk is difficult because this generation is hyper-aware of other elements of life that we weren’t. If maybe they aren’t as focused on academics because they are more highly evolved in other areas.
I feel for them. Maybe there is only so much one individual can be good at. And from my experience and perspective, in my community, these teenagers are absolutely awesome at being kind. For a mom like me, it seems like more than enough.
by Lori Singaraju 
by Amy Keyes 
