Pastor John Van Sloten

I can still see Edward running down the rabbit’s warren of hallways that is his high school; boots slapping the terrazzo as he stumblingly takes each turn, the sleeves of his black down jacket making that wheezing rubbing sound. His class is in the back of the building, and yet he knows every turn. Nobody met him at the door. Nobody is taking him by the hand. As I follow behind him (he doesn’t know I’m there) I’m shocked at his complete independence; his freedom…

Edward’s cab was 20 minutes late this morning. Not knowing if this would cause problems on the delivery side of his school commute, I decided to drive him in myself. I was a bit upset as I drove. I’d just had two discussions with the cab company, ticked off at their delay. “Don’t you know that he’s disabled? This is not just a convenience issue for us; it’s a safety issue! I don’t know if those who meet him on the other side are going to be there when he arrives late.” I spoke to two different people, and made my usual, “I’m going to take this up a few levels” threats. (Yes, I’m quite pathetic this way.)

Hurriedly following Eddy’s freedom run, I half expected him to get lost, to lose his bearings, to give me the evidence I needed for my impending complaint to the school, the taxi company and the board of education. Instead, he flabbergasts me. Rounding his last turn he meets up with Les, his teacher. High fiving him, he continues on to his locker (I assume), to do what every other high school kid would do (I imagine).

I stop to talk with Les. “What are you doing here?” he asks. I explain the problem and then he goes on to convey, “No problem.” I’m not sure which convicted me more; what he said or how he said it. With a very calming tone – one that had a full, matter of fact confidence in Edward – he explained that Eddy always finds his way on his own in the morning. He’s fully independent once in the school. He makes his way to either of the gyms any time, on his own. He knows exactly what he’s doing when we make lunches every day; needing no cues. “To be honest,” Les says, “I fully expect that Edward will be able to take the bus on his own in two years.”

At first I’m confused. “He’s taken the bus for years already,” I think. But then I realize that Les meant the city bus, not a school bus. Edward taking a city bus on his own; what a huge vision! What an enabling dream! The hope that Les held for Edward’s independence far eclipsed mine – heck this teacher’s view was from another planet.

Heading back to my car I felt like someone had just grabbed me by both shoulders and shook me. “Wake up John, look at what this boy is capable of, trust a bit will you… and let go.”