The Joy of Normal

At the end of the school day, children of varied ages burst from the school doors. Some rush exuberantly, others meander, perhaps tired from the grind or maybe just too cool to run past their friends.  They climb into busses or carpools while loudly clamoring “Call me later!” or “See you tomorrow!” My son waits just inside the doors until his ride is in sight.  Very much like me as a child, always hiding from the wind, looking for shelter even during recess.

What makes this scene so great is the normalcy of it.  When Marcus was born, the concept of normal seemed to fly out of our lives.  I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.  Instead of a normal birthday, we faced specialists, social workers, and fear.

I was a young mother, forthright and possibly stubborn.  I did not like the term “normal.” It seemed to be the barrier between us and the great, indistinct them.  The doctors told me, “normal infants” will cry in the night; yours will not.  A “normal baby” will roll over at three months; don’t count on this.  “Normal children” will go to school and learn and play and make friends; don’t have high expectations. 

Marcus did cry in the night, and I wept with joy because of it.  He rolled over when he was two weeks old; the doctor didn’t believe me.  And he goes to a school where he learns, plays, and most importantly, makes friends. 

This is what Madonna School gives to him – the joy of normal. 

The Madonna School offers Marcus and over 50 other children a safe and nurturing environment.  He is encouraged based on his own strengths; he is educated in academic and independent living skills.  And alongside his friends, he is moving to conquer the next normal.

Please help us ensure a Madonna education is available to children who need it now and for decades to come.  Browse through the tabs and pages on this blog for tickets to our Celebration event. More information about the school and how you can help. 

Thank you!

                                                                                               (c) Mardra Sikora