Out of My Mind, by Sharon Draper

A few weeks ago, Kelly wasn't feeling well so I took off work to fill in for her at the kids' Valentine's Day parties at school.  First I went to Chloe's second grade class.  Chloe is non-verbal and has some physical limitations and development delays due to an unidentified genetic disorder.  Prior to this year, she has been in special ed classes, with part of her day spent in regular ed classes.  Now she is in a regular ed class all day with a full-time assistant and is the only child in her class with special needs. 

As I sat and watched her interact with the other kids at her table, the other kids' interactions with her impressed me.  Without fail, they were sweet, helpful, friendly, and even conversational.  Chloe will nod in response, but does not speak, and does not make a lot of eye contact.  Yet these kids spoke and interacted with her as if nothing was different about her.  One of the little girls asked me if I was Chloe's daddy.  I told her I was.  She said, "Chloe and I are best friends!"  I'm telling you I almost lost it there; I had to exercise lots of self-restraint not to cry in front of her.  I loved seeing Chloe, who is content to play alone in her room for hours on end, in this setting, with such great support from her peers.

Then I went to help set up for Elliot's 6th grade party and was intercepted by one of his teachers.  Almost breathlessly, she said, "I read a book you have to read.  It's called Out of My Mind, and I thought of Chloe the whole time I was reading it!"  She had told Elliot the same thing, so he read it and told Kelly about it so she read it, and since they liked it so much, I picked it up yesterday.  I hardly put it down and finished it in a day.

Not only did I think of Chloe as I read, but I thought of Kelly, me, and Chloe's teachers and assistants.  In Out of My Mind, Melody, the 11-year-old protagonist, has cerebral palsy.  Though confined to a wheelchair and unable to speak, her mind is active, brilliant, and and capable of remembering anything she reads, sees, or hears.  Much of her school years have been spent in boring, humiliating special ed classes.  When she can read thousands of words, of course she gets upset when the teacher is teaching the alphabet.  Finally, through her own initiative and the persistence of her assistant and her family, she gets an assistive communication device, giving her a voice for the first time in her life.  Finally she can communicate verbally and participate more in school, even helping the school's quiz team qualify for the national finals.

Throughout the story, my heart broke for this precious girl, bringing me to tears on several occasions.  How frustrating not to be able to makes oneself understood.  How isolating not to be able to interact with people around you.  I, of course, kept thinking of Chloe, my smart little girl who has such a hard time communicating.  I don't know that she has a photographic memory like Melody, but I know she's always been smarter than we know.  What's going on in her mind that we can't see or hear?  How many inane, boring lessons has she sat through, thinking "I know all this!  Stop with the baby lessons!"  And when Chloe watches the other kids run and talk and laugh and play, does she long, like Melody, to be a part?  Does Chloe get embarrassed by her difficulty in feeding herself, that she wears diapers at age 9, that she rides the handicapped bus?

I thought of Kelly as much as I thought of Chloe.  Melody is a lucky girl in that her mom never gives up believing in her.  She has to come to bat for Melody time and again, sometimes in a militant way.  In the same way, Kelly has been Chloe's biggest advocate, her momma bear instincts pushing and pushing to make sure Chloe gets services she needs and is in the best placement for her growth.  And the link between Melody and her mom could just as well describe Chloe and Kelly.  Kelly knows what Chloe's every little gesture means, and usually knows what Chloe's thinking.  She can tell by looks if Chloe feels bad, and can smell when she's thirsty.  Weird.  Melody's dad plays a smaller role, like me; he's not as clued in to his daughter as the mom, but does all he can do to help.

Draper is a long-time teacher--honored as National Teacher of the Year in 1997--and the parent of a child with "developmental difficulties" (her description) so it's no surprise that her classroom scenes and dispatches from the special ed classroom seem so real.  And her appreciation for the special ed assistants should be noted; I agree with Draper--those folks do wonderful work for way too little money.  I for one am so thankful for the faithful ladies who have fed Chloe, changed her diapers, and invested in her learning and development during her school years.

Out of My Mind gives the reader a believable window into the mind of a disabled individual.  But Draper's real target audience is the rest of us.  As Draper says on amazon.com, Out of My Mind is "written for people who look away, who pretend they don't see, or who don't know what to say when they encounter someone who faces life with obvious differences. Just smile and say hello!"  I may be too honest in this admission, but this book has reminded me to take more time with Chloe, to remember that even when she acts like she's in her own world she is hearing and seeing and taking it all in, and that it's up to me, Kelly, and all of Chloe's support team, to work together to help Chloe take part in her world and to overcome the challenges in her life.