Through the Eyes of A Child

by Tziri Frank

Spectacles are a thing of the past.

Being embarrassed to have “four eyes” has now become obsolete. And that is because today you can purchase such fashionable eyewear that some individuals, who have perfect vision, have glasses perched on their noses purely as a trendy accessory. Also, there are contact lenses that come in all shapes, sizes, colors and price ranges. Often they are as disposable as paper plates and therefore, are so comfortable that they are actually enjoyable to wear. They too, are frequently a fashion statement that can be used to complement the color of the outfit you are wearing, or change the color of your eyes just because you are in the mood to do so. And finally, there are all kinds of surgical procedures that have revolutionized the concept of needing corrective eyewear at all. Today, the very brave, and the very wealthy and/or well-insured can subject their retinas to laser therapy which will negate the necessity of ever dealing with the trials and tribulations of wearing any form of seeing eye-aides again.

But, to truly see something in its clearest form, you still need to be able to look at the world through the eyes of a child. Because it is the children who still possess the innocence to be able to see things in their simplest form. And sometimes, they have no trouble sharing their observations with the adults around them.
Like my two year old daughter, Aliza.

Recently, we had the opportunity to take a family trip. For reasons that could only be understood by a member of the Frank family, we ended up on an island (in Northern Michigan) where motorized vehicles are not allowed. As we had the opportunity to discover, the island is nine miles around, and can be traversed in a variety of ways ranging from walking to biking to driving a horse and buggy. And that is just what we did. First we walked, then we biked, and finally we arrived at the stables to rent our own horse and buggy which my husband was determined enough to drive. After a brief haggle with rural ranch owners which ended with the exchange of a couple of peanut butter sandwiches and a box of raisins, we were ready for our adventure.

In no time at all, a very tall horse was led out of a stable and brought to us.
“Pearl, meet the Frank family,” said its owner, a woman who had no teeth.
The horse eyed us out of one oversized spectacle-less eyeball. Then he seemed to grin, either at the thought of what he was going to do to us once we got him out on the open road, or because he had just caught sight of my Leiber’s potato chip bag.

“What a beautiful family you have,” said the woman trying to make conversation, which can’t be easy when you have no teeth.

“Actually, we are missing most of them,” I hastened to explain, because I was feeling a mother’s guilt that there could be a family vacation without the complete family. “Atara, Yehudis, and Ahuva are in camp.”

“Yossi!” suddenly piped up Aliza, clearly thinking we were ready for a game of Name The Family.

“Yes, of course, and Yossi,” I amended, “he is my severely mentally and physically handicapped son who lives in a group home.”

As usual this put a sudden end to the conversation. Probably, because it was with adults who get all flustered at the mention of being a family with a member who is part of the disabled population.

“Cool!” said a child nearby. I assumed he was talking to us, because children usually have a much more understanding way of accepting such news, but as he was trying to keep his balance on the back of a horse, it may have been my imagination. In any case we were interrupted with a sudden cough.

“It’s time to get to know your horse,” said a new ranch-hand who had no trouble swiping our credit card through a much modernized and quite mechanical machine. “I’ll be right back with your buggy.”

And there we stood, my husband with his souvenir baseball cap that is the extent of his leisure wear, my eight year old son, my two year old daughter, and Pearl, our very own white horse for the next hour. I was in the process of trying to get my hand to obey my brain command to get my helpless fingers and a bit of sugar near the mare’s large mouth and very oversized teeth when I was interrupted by Aliza.

“Look, Mommy,” she cried with great excitement pointing to the rickety buggy that the stable hand was leading out towards us, “It’s a wheelchair for a horsey!”
And indeed the buggy had the large size wheels that did resemble the wheels of Yossi’s wheelchair. But what made the whole incident so impressive was the natural way in which Aliza related to the concept of a wheelchair as a normal and natural way of life, for some. Well, that and the fact that Yossi, and his wheelchair, was an ordinary part of her thought process.

And so, I decided to do some research to see if this was particular to my family or children in general. Actually, for the sake of accuracy, and also in case anyone reading this remembers a very hectic day in September, I made a few well placed phone calls and had others do my research for me. Nevertheless, I did come up with some interesting information.

When asked the question, what is a wheelchair; one hundred percent of all four, five, and six year old children surveyed had no trouble identifying the equipment that allows immobile individuals to move around. A surprising number of the children described the apparatus in glowing terms clearly describing possible scenarios where one could sit in such a device and speed around their universe.

None of the children associated, or “saw” a wheelchair with any form of negativity.

The children were then asked if they knew what kind of person sits in a wheelchair. A large number of the young people associated old people with sitting in a wheelchair, but answers varied. All children had seen and/or knew someone in a wheelchair at some point in their lives and showed a clear understanding of why anyone would use one at all.

“Their feet don’t work,” said one little one with a lisp looking at me as if I were daft not to have knowledge as basic as this.

“It’s because they are lucky,” asserted another young lad who had just started his first day in first grade, “they get to zoom around and learn Torah at the same time.”

This got a much more astonished response than any of the questions asked so far, and a few of the children wanted to know how one went about getting a ride on one of those zooming things.

None of the children “saw” sitting in a wheelchair with any negativity.
Finally, the children were asked if they could play with a child sitting in a
wheelchair.

Once more the answers were only encouraging. All children surveyed were absolutely sure they could engage in recreation with a youngster regardless of the fact that they were confined to a chair with wheels. Most of them looked at the adult that asked this question as if it were they, in fact, who were slightly mentally challenged.

When asked to elaborate what sort of games would be appropriate to engage with a young person restricted to a wheelchair, all of the children surveyed had offered a
suggestion.

“Card games are fun for everyone,” said one little one proffering me a deck of well used small squares, “do you want to play now?”

“We could read them stories,” said another child hopefully.

“Board games could work,” offered a third after a moment of deliberation.

“You know,” said one little six year old thoughtfully, “children in a wheelchair could play tag.”

All children nodded their heads approvingly at this suggestion.

“Yeah,” said one little chubby child with resignation, “but the wheelchair would probably win.” And he took another bite out of his doughnut.

Once more all heads nodded in agreement. Clearly none of them would like to go up against a wheelchair in a game of speed. Suddenly, one young one perked his head up in sudden enlightenment.

“Children in wheelchairs could play a game where they give other people rides,” he said with conviction.

This was met with loud approval from all.

Once more, no children “saw” playing with a physically handicapped child with any form of negativity.

This could be because I, and those I coerced into helping me, happened to encounter the most positive children on the planet. But, I don’t think so. I think it is because children are blessed with the innocent ability to see things as they are meant to be seen. And maybe it is the adults who need to get down to their level to see things clearly again.

Because it’s a pretty nice view down there.

You may comment on this article at the discussion board at www.spiritmag.org.

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Tziri Frank is a proud mother of five beautiful children. She uses her experience with her own special child to inspire others in a thought provoking and often entertaining way.