Tess' First Dance

I thought middle school angst was supposed to be experienced by middle-schoolers, not middle-agers.

Last week I posted on my Facebook that Tess, my 14 year old with Down syndrome, would be going to her first dance. She came home from her day at school all excited and handed me the invitation that triggered a blast from my past! Would everyone ignore her when she walked in? Would she eat alone? Would she have a smear of pizza on her face that everyone would laugh at? What if the girls walked away when she started to dance? What if the boys made fun of her? Would this event catapult her into popularity or persecution?

It took me back to being 14 and approaching my dad. “I've been invited to the Prom, Dad. Can I go?” As I waited for my strict father's reply, a thousand thoughts were running through my mind. “This is great. I'm the only freshman who's been invited by a JUNIOR! And, Ricky's popular, he's on the King's Court! I'd be his date and that means I will be popular, too. This is my moment. Everyone will look at me from now on as popular, one of the cool kids with everyone saying 'hi' to me in the halls and at lunch....”

“Absolutely not!” I was jolted back to reality.
“Please, Dad, please.”
“No means no!”
“It's really important to me, please.”
“Okay, you're grounded for arguing with me.”
“But, Dad...”
“That's two weeks, young lady. No after school activities. You are grounded!”

With that declaration, not only would I not be popular but missing after school activities meant I'd be disgraced. I was on the volleyball team, class secretary, after school choir, and in the school play. I'd miss all my responsibilities and have to explain that I was grounded. How embarrassing! Why did dad have to be so mean. He just didn't get it. He was too old to remember how important those things are to a young girl.

Many years later, I had another conversation with my dad.
“Dad, remember that year I got invited to the prom and you said no?”
“Uh, not quite.”
“It was the first time a boy had asked me and it was a big moment for me. Thanks, Dad, for not letting me go.”
Dad put his paper aside and gave me that look we parents tend to give when we are about to hear something we've waited a long time to hear from our kids.
“Thank you for saying no, Dad. I had no idea at the time but after I grew up a little, I realized that boy was not someone I would let my own daughter date. He may have been popular but that is all a matter of perspective. I realize now that the group he hung around with were actually the bad boys. Thank you for protecting me. I didn't know I needed to be protected but you did. I love you, Dad.”

Tess needed to be protected at the birthday dance last night, or so I thought. I had been invited to stay, along with a few other parents. Secretly, I was relieved that the host mom initiated the invitation to stay. I was able to see firsthand this new group of young people that Tess had begun school with four weeks ago, being mainstreamed in a public school after being in a Christian school.

When Tess came home with the invitation I was so excited for her. She has Down syndrome and along with that comes maternal angst no matter what one's age. I don't know if she was having the same feelings I had at my first invitation to a dance (I suspect not) but I was anxiously processing those same feelings all over again for her sake. Would she have a smear of pizza on her face? Would all the cute little girls with their adorable little shapes and junior high drama let Tess with her stout stature and awkward speech participate in their clusters? Would they roll their eyes at her when she walked away? Would the boys look at each other and laugh when she danced clumsily?

When we first walked in to the party, several girls welcomed Tess and showed her where the pizza and snacks were. Everyone was just hanging out, eating and forming their personal groups. Of course, the boys were in one area and the girls were in another. I watched as a few of the boys were stuffing bubble gum in their mouths to see who could get the most in. One chipmunk, uh, I mean, boy, had gotten at last count, 13 chunks of bubble gum in. I lost count after that.

The DJ had begun to play some music and soon there were dancers on the floor. My angst began and I looked at Tess. From across the room, I forced a smile and motioned for her to go dance with the girls. She confidently approached them and started to dance. “Oh, no, Tess. Don't do the chicken dance yet” I thought to myself. She didn't of course, but that is what I was afraid she would do since it was her favorite.

Being the astute young lady she is, she watched the other girls and began to match their (mostly) innocent movements to the music. The next thing I knew, the music changed and it was a well known group song that is played at a lot of weddings. Thankfully, we've been to many and Tess knew the steps so she fell right in line with the girls and a few brave boys. She was having a blast being one of the kids. I was slowly letting go of the anxiety I had been feeling for my daughter. She even danced with a very cute young man who reminds me of one of the boys on a Disney show!

From my vantage point, I did not see anyone the entire evening roll their eyes or make fun of my daughter with special needs in any way. In fact, as we prepared to leave the party, several of my popular daughter's friends called out, “Bye, Tess. See you at school!” “I'm popular, Mom!” Tess matter-of-factly stated. “Yes, I know you are, Tess.” I replied as I squeezed her hand.