Guest Blogger
By Stephanie Lauren Schultz
“La, la, la, la, la.” Pam was humming to herself quietly as she pedaled her tricycle around the neighborhood. She weaved back and forth across the sidewalk, sped up and down driveways, and steered her way down the street.
Being four years old, Pam’s tricycle was among her top five favorite possessions. When she got bored with her parents and other adults in her life, she could always hop on her tricycle and ride around the neighborhood.
One particular day, while riding her tricycle, Pam decided to try something new. The road leading into her driveway was a hill. She figured the best way to gain the most speed would be to start at the top of the hill and pedal as fast as she could into her driveway.
“Ready, set, GO!” Pam said to herself. She started down the hill slowly at first but quickly gained speed. After a few yards, Pam felt like she was flying. The wind was ripping through her hair, and she experienced that rush of adrenaline that comes when you’re a four-year-old racing into your driveway at top speed.
The next thing Pam knew, the closed garage door was just three feet away—and getting closer by the second. She started to rethink her grand idea! She found herself hurtling straight toward the garage door, her feet off the pedals and scraping the ground in a desperate attempt to stop.
The pain was extreme. There was a dull ache in her chin and red stains on her shirt. Crying loudly, she ran into the house and looked in the mirror, only to see her chin completely split open. Panic set in as she stared at the flaps of skin hanging from her chin.
Pam was rushed to the hospital in her neighbor’s car (her dad had the family’s at work), and she remembers looking up at the doctor as he prepared to sew her skin back together. “This won’t hurt very much, I promise,” the doctor said.
That proved to be a false statement, as Pam felt the needle pulling the thick black thread through her skin. She choked back tears, trying to focus on anything but the pain.
The stitches held, and Pam’s chin healed just fine. She walked away from the tricycle accident with nothing but a tiny scar—visible only if you look very closely.
As I complete my internships and work with young students burdened with ASD, ADHD, and other nonverbal learning disorders, I think back to the simple times of childhood. Every child faces painful situations they must navigate in an age-appropriate manner. I hope I can "stitch" together the fragmented lives of these young children by equipping them with the skills necessary to lead healthy, fulfilling lives.
Editor’s Note: Stephanie is my oldest daughter. She is graduating from college this year with a dual degree in Elementary Education and Special Education. She has always had a kind heart and will no doubt positively impact the lives of many children and their families. I asked her if she would be willing to contribute to my blog. This is a family story she has grown up with.
Update: Stephanie is now married with two children. She has a Masters Degree and PhD in Applied Behavior Analysis and is a university professor. She is also a Board Certified Behavior Analyst. She teaches students and does research with children who struggle with Autism.
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