Jackie was a boy who went to the National School (Kindergarten) with me. I was three and a half years old when I went to school. All the children on the terrace walked to Chapeltown National School together, rain, hail or shine. We walked down the long road by the seashore on the Fenit to Churchill road. Only the teacher travelled to school by car. There was no school bus.
Jackie was different from all the other children. He was taller and stronger and he had been to school with my mother. As children, we were taught to respect Jackie. We learned that there were some things that Jackie found hard to do. Other things he could do that we couldn't. He watched over us on the road to school and helped us to be safe. Before the phrase 'differing abilities' was ever coined, we learned what it meant in practise. No-one in our school ever made fun of Jackie, even when we had difficulty understanding his speech. Jackie was different and we were taught to respect him.
Many years later at my mother's funeral, Jackie came up to me and shook my hand. He reminded me that he had gone to school with my mother and told me she was a "lovely girl'. Over the years Jackie was an integral part of the community. He called to visit elderly people living alone and ran errands for them. He felt useful and valued. He knew he was different. But he also knew that he belonged.
This is one of the gifts of my Irish heritage, my identity. I am proud of being part of a community that made room for Jackie.
P.S.
Jackie's way of seeing the world is called Down's Syndrome.
Jackie was different from all the other children. He was taller and stronger and he had been to school with my mother. As children, we were taught to respect Jackie. We learned that there were some things that Jackie found hard to do. Other things he could do that we couldn't. He watched over us on the road to school and helped us to be safe. Before the phrase 'differing abilities' was ever coined, we learned what it meant in practise. No-one in our school ever made fun of Jackie, even when we had difficulty understanding his speech. Jackie was different and we were taught to respect him.
Many years later at my mother's funeral, Jackie came up to me and shook my hand. He reminded me that he had gone to school with my mother and told me she was a "lovely girl'. Over the years Jackie was an integral part of the community. He called to visit elderly people living alone and ran errands for them. He felt useful and valued. He knew he was different. But he also knew that he belonged.
This is one of the gifts of my Irish heritage, my identity. I am proud of being part of a community that made room for Jackie.
P.S.
Jackie's way of seeing the world is called Down's Syndrome.
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