There should be an award for the kids who have coped with surgeries, allergies, medications, conditions, tests, procedures, doctors’ appointments, measured diets, hospitals, braced limbs, and side effects as part of their normal.
There should be an award for the kids who have survived hunger, sleepless nights, screaming, beatings, sexual advances, bruises, dad hitting mom, and fear, and fear, and fear.
There should be an award for the kids who try so incredibly, fantastically hard to get right with 1,000 tries what other kids master with ease — zippers, math facts, the alphabet, behavior in the lunch room, geometry, how to make eye contact, ways to keep a friend.
There should be an award for the kids who scroll through Facebook on prom night looking at pictures, pretending they don’t care that they aren’t attending.
There should be an award for the kids who attend prom looking gorgeous, while secretly feeling insecure and ugly.
Let’s include teachers and other adults when looking for reasons to nominate someone for an award.
There should be an award for the teachers who teach the kids who don’t get the awards, who see beyond grades, numbers, and tests, who hold kids accountable that need it so desperately, and who give beyond what they knew was possible.
There should be an award for the parents who love the kids that don’t get the awards, parents who open the invitations, and sit through the award ceremonies of other kids, as on the inside their hearts cry, “My child, too! If only you could really see my child too,” while on the outside they nod, clap, and join with voices to politely say, “Congratulations! Very well done.”
There should be an award.
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This article originally appeared at SaraBorgstede.com.
