Chicken Soup for the Soul: Children with Special Needs (23 page)
Read Chicken Soup for the Soul: Children with Special Needs Online
Authors: Jack Canfield
As beads of perspiration formed on his forehead, determination etched his face. He never gave up. He made it to the other side, dropped to the ground, raised his mismatched hands in a victory sign, and beamed!
Tonight, once again with tears streaming down my face, I applaud loudly as he steps forward to receive a scholarship to pursue a degree in engineering.
Yes, graduation and commencement are an ending— and a beginning.
Mary Henderson
Mary Henderson
taught for the public schools of Calumet, Laurium, and Keweenaw (in Calumet, Michigan) from 1967 until 1999. She truly loved all of her “little people” and tried to always teach with patience, humor, and respect for the individual differences each child brought to the classroom. Although she had a soft spot in her heart for many of her children, Adam was special. She followed his accomplishments and successes, and cheered him on as a starter on the varsity basketball team. Mary has been published in
Guideposts, Reminisce Online, Reminisce Extra, I Love Cats, International Library of Poetry
, and self-published a book,
Out of the Mouths of Babes.
B
e the change you wish to see in the world.
Mahatma Gandhi
It was my first dance-team performance, and I was so excited! My entire family came to my school to watch me dance. This first dance program was so important to everyone in my family—even the whole school!
I came early to the school, and I went into the girls’ bathroom to change into my new dance-team outfit. The other girls on my team were already there changing. As I put on the outfit, I began to think how beautiful my outfit was and how it looked on me. It had silver, blue, and black pants, and a top. The collar on the top was made with silver sequins that itched and made a red place on my neck that hurt. The top was blue and black with silver sequins across the bottom with blue fringe. The pants were black and shiny with one blue stripe at the bottom. My shoes were black, but they were too little. They hurt my toes! It bothered me a little because I had to curl my toes to dance.
My mom helped me fix my hair with a brown hairpiece. She curled the front of my hair with a hot curling iron. Then she pulled my hair back in a bun and put in the hair- piece. It was really curly. I looked so beautiful!
It was finally time to dance. I felt fine and ready. We lined up in the hall. I looked in the gym. Many people were there, and the players were sitting with the coach to watch us dance. My heart started to beat really fast. We walked into the gym. I knew I must look at the other girls as we went into the gym. I looked at my mom, too. We walked in the gym and stopped in a line in the middle of the floor.
We waited for the song to start. My head was down when the music started. I could feel the beat in my feet, and I could feel when it stopped. I felt the song start, and I started to dance. Mom sat on the first bleacher and pointed “right” and “left,” and signed “jump” and “turn” for me. I didn’t watch the other girls; I always watched Mom! When the song stopped, I saw the people clap! I could see Mom smiling and clapping, too. Mom was proud of me. I knew because she was smiling.
We marched out of the gym. As we got off the floor, I felt very happy and proud of myself that I had finished the dance and done a good job.
People from the other school did not know about me, and why this dance was so special. My family and teachers did. When I looked at the crowd after the dance, they were crying.
Why?
I’m deaf. I hear no sounds. I did the dance by watching the other girls’ positions, watching my mom sign the directions to me, and by “feeling” the beat. I was the first deaf girl ever on our school’s dance team!
Briana Hobbs
Briana Hobbs
is in seventh grade. She likes to swim and talk with her friends on the Internet. Briana loves animals and wants to be a veterinarian. Her large family is very proud of her accomplishments in and out of school.
S
etting goals, following dreams, giving it all you’ve got, making it happen . . . these are the things that make all the difference in your life!
Dominick Castellano
It was the final attempt in the competition.
CJ had successfully completed eight out of eight lifts and, amazingly, all his efforts were performed with the power and control of a hydraulic lift. As always, he was well prepared. Still, his face was drawn and showed the fatigue of a long day of competition. His 350-pound squat lift and 220-pound bench press lift eclipsed the world records, the most anyone had lifted in his weight class and division in history. He still had one final attempt left in the dead lift. I told him he had truly earned the respect of everyone and had done all he needed to do. His performance was 150 pounds more than the winner of the last world event! If he really did want his final attempt, it would be his decision; I felt he was spent, and injury was a concern. All the noise and excitement of the final attempts of the other lifters in heavier weight classes made it hard to communicate. CJ was lifting the same amount of weight as competitors twice his body weight. The cheers of the crowd, and the voices and the clanging of plates, produced a surreal bubble of atmosphere, sound, foggy images, and haze. I impatiently awaited his decision. CJ carefully thought for a moment, much more composed than I was. He softly said, “One more attempt, please.” I went to the control desk and told the official that CJ Piantieri would take his final attempt at 420 pounds. She abruptly looked up at me as if I could not be serious, but confirmed my request, repeating, “Piantieri, 148-pound weight class, 420-pound final attempt.”
As I chalked his hands, my own focus cleared to what he faced. I explained that he would need a supreme effort to make this lift. The bar would likely stall halfway up, he was tired, and he had to stay with it and keep it moving. He would have to pull with more force than he had ever put forth in his life. The massive weight was loaded onto the bar. The crowd grew quiet, sensing the intensity of the moment as the announcer proclaimed this the final lift of the entire competition. CJ approached the bar. His 143-pound body was small but muscular. The bar seemed ominous and defiant . . . so many plates, so much to lift. With the focus of an Olympic champion, he placed his feet, adjusted his grip, took a huge breath, lifted his head, and with eyes on fire, he began to lift. The crowd erupted as the bar rose from the floor and slowly began to rise. Slowly, surely, the bar gave way to CJ’s will. I screamed at the top of my lungs . . .
“Stay! Stay! Stay!”
CJ held on, but the bar’s ascent slowed. The crowd’s screaming was ear-wrenching. With inches to completion, the massive weight almost overcame him. The crowd was now in a frenzy! CJ strained with every fiber of his being for every quarter-inch of movement. I was helpless and could only watch in awe as he again showed the courage of determination. Each second was agony. CJ refused to give up, refused to submit, refused to fail. Gravity was saying no, but he was not listening. The final effort was intense and painful to watch. I could not accept this was happening. It was too much to ask of any athlete. I wanted it to end. Forget the lift; I didn’t want him hurt. I thought out loud, “I am going to stop this . . . he can’t take it anymore!”
But on this day, he would not be denied. With a resounding yell heard round the auditorium, CJ found something deep within himself and conquered the weight. The crowd erupted.
Dominick Castellano
Dominick Castellano
is a world champion power lifter and participated in eight varied sports. He is an Olympic trials rower, marathoner, ironman triathlete, swimmer, and kayaker, racing all over the world! But what defines him is thirty years of motivating and coaching people, especially his speaking and coaching for Special Olympics, schools, city programs, cooperation, colleges, police/fire departments, prisons, and the U.S. military. Contact Dominick at [email protected].
CJ deadlifting 415 pounds. He is now close to 450,
weighing only 140 pounds! He is working hard to
bring home the gold for the United States in
China at the World Special Olympic Games!
[POSTSCRIPT:
At birth, CJ had a stroke that caused neurological damage, seizure disorder, learning disability, and physical disability. These are just a few of the things that CJ has lived with throughout his thirty-one years. His training is as intense as you would expect of any world-class athlete.
]
Reprinted by permission of Dominick Castellano. ©2006 Dominick Castellano.
O
ne should guard against preaching to young people success in the customary form as the main aim in life. The most important motive for work in school and in life is pleasure in work, pleasure in its result, and the knowledge of the value of the result to the community.
Albert Einstein
T
he differences are great, and the differences are small. That’s just part of the beauty of it all. . . .
Red Grammar
Jimmy Beckley, born on a 1973 winter night in a small town, did not breathe for the first seven minutes of his life. It might have had something to do with Deborah Mae Beckley’s drug use during the late stages of her pregnancy, the town’s ladies gossiped in hushed tones. No matter the reason, those first seven oxygenless minutes carried a heavy price tag. Jimmy suffered extensive brain damage.
In the next two years, Deborah birthed two more children, and Jimmy’s needs quickly overwhelmed the teenage mother. Social services placed Jimmy in the care of Walter and Margaret Beckley, Deborah’s parents. Though they lavished the child with love, the senior Beckley’s were limited in their abilities to tend to Jimmy’s increasing physical needs. Both had arthritis, and as Jimmy grew larger and heavier, caring for him became a nearly impossible. By the time Jimmy was eight, they were providing care for three more of Deborah’s children and had to make the heart-wrenching decision to sever legal custody of the child.
Tears did little to wash away the pain, but they were consoled with limited information provided by the authorities. Jimmy was adopted into a good home in a faraway state. The years passed quickly, but the Beckley’s
never forgot the smiling little boy in the wheelchair.
As is often the case in Appalachia, the church became a haven for Walter and Margaret. Rising to the position of deacon in the local Baptist church, Walter was a true believer in the power of prayer. Walter and Margaret began to think about Jimmy more and more during 1996, the year Jimmy would turn twenty-three. The doctors had predicted since Jimmy was an infant that he would not live beyond twenty-one. Walter and Margaret began to pray fervently, asking the Lord to intervene in their pain, which just would not go away. Soon the entire congregation took up the cause for the ailing deacon and his wife’s prayers.
And what had become of the little boy in the wheelchair?
Jimmy raised in a small town in Michigan, his doting parents had instilled in him the spirit of independence, teaching him to challenge his physical limitations. As he grew, he became an adept driver of his electric wheelchair; he moved into his own apartment, assisted by daily visits of skilled nursing professionals. Weather permitting, Jimmy went on short solo jaunts throughout the neighborhood. On one such trip, he rode into a local 7-Eleven and encountered a dozen bikers, a motorcycle club quite unlike the stereotype.
