Inspiring story I saw on another list

At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning-disabled children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question. "When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?"

The audience was stilled by the query. The father continued. "I believe that when a child like Shay comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child." Then he told the following story.

Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, "Do you think they'll let me play?" Shay's father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging.

Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and, getting none, he took matters into his own hands and said, "We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning"

(My question to all of you is: Would you have made the same choice?)

In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the outfield. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands.

In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat. At this juncture, would they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.

However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least be able to make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the next pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game. Instead, the pitcher took the ball and turned and threw the ball on a high arc to right field, far beyond the reach of the first baseman.

Everyone started yelling, "Shay, run to first! Run to first!" Never in his life had Shay ever made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled. Everyone yelled, "Run to second, run to second!" By the time Shay rounded first base, the right fielder had the ball. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions and intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head. Shay ran toward second base as the runners ahead of him deliriously circled the bases toward home. Shay reached second base, the opposing shortstop ran to him, turned him in the direction of third base, and shouted, "Run to third!" As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams were screaming, "Shay, run home!" Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the "grand slam" and won the game for his team.

"That day," said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, "the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world."

We all have thousands of opportunities every single day to help realize the "natural order of things."

those kids are heroes in my book, world class heroes.

Gives one a little faith in humankind.

But there is a not so kind viewpoint of that story from www.snopes.com

Origins: The story quoted above is Perfection at the Plate, a work of Rabbi Paysach Krohn which appeared in his 1999 book, Echoes of the Maggid. Echoes is a "Chicken Soup for the Soul" type work, described by its publishers as "heartwarming stories and parables of wisdom and inspiration." It is the fifth such tome in the Maggid series. Rabbi Krohn says that the story is true and that he was told it by Shaya's father, who is a friend of his. (The "Chush" school mentioned in the piece is the Jewish Center for Special Education on Kent Street in Brooklyn, a school that caters to Yiddish-speaking children of Orthodox Hasidic Jews.)

The true value of any inspirational tale lies not in its veracity (or lack thereof) but in its ability to move those who read it to improve some facet of themselves. As with many other glurges, we find this story's premise a poor one, and its message one likely to do more harm than good.

What to make of an incitement to bestow upon the disabled to a pat on the head instead of granting them acceptance for who they are, even when that means accepting the limitations placed upon them by their infirmities? Has a disabled child who has been conditioned to believe he's good at baseball somehow been helped, or has he been set up for a greater hurt when he comes to realize he's been made the object of pity and an accomplishment he'd been praising himself for was just a sham?

Not everyone reacts well to having the rules of life changed on them in mid-game, so to speak. An experience from my sister's pre-school days might help illustrate this point.

As was my sister's wont, some mornings she would toddle after our brother when he headed off to school. She was always greeted warmly by the teacher and set down with crayons and paper to draw pictures (a ruse to keep her quiet) while the rest of the children went on with their lessons. When she proudly presented her drawings to the teacher, they never failed to earn gold stars, sometimes even rows of them! (According to our brother, she was never shy about demanding more stars. Loudly.) Her interruptions and demands were always immediately addressed, and the class learned to regard her as a lovable, if annoying, mascot who showed up every now and then but mercifully never stayed long. ("But always too long," our mortified brother would report.) When she tired of scribbling, singing, and cavorting, my dear sis would toddle back home, secure in the knowledge that this mysterious "school" thing was all sorts of fun, and it would be even more fun when she was grown up enough to be part of it officially.

That view changed on her very first day as a real student. Riding on the bus was fun, but nobody acted all that delighted to see her when she got to school. Worse, there were no gold stars for anything she did. When she piped up to sing a song, the teacher actually shushed her. She was told to stay in her seat instead of running around the room as she usually did. When she demanded crayons, she was told it was time to do lessons and that in future she had to put her hand up when she wanted something instead of just screaming it out. Confused and fed up, she tried to leave, but the teacher sat her back down! She was then told she couldn't leave, that she had to stay there for the whole day. Worse, she was told that if she didn't behave, she'd be taken to the principal. (She wasn't exactly sure what that was, but it sounded impressively ominous.)

That confused little girl grew up to be a young lady who dropped out of school in eighth grade. She never got over the idea that teachers lived to pick on her and that all these rules they came up with served no purpose other than to make her life miserable. Possibly a different beginning might have led to a different outcome: a brilliant, creative girl going on to complete high school and maybe even university. Maybe. But we'll never know because these other what-might-have-beens were killed with kindness before they even had their chance.

As amusing a story as my sister's experience may be, the pain she experienced was real. What that child went through shouldn't be visited upon another, especially upon one already burdened with limitations. Kindness is all well and good, but not when the expression of it sets up the recipient for greater harm later. The less abled don't require our pity -- they want acceptance, to be seen as viable and valuable members of the world. Lying down for them doesn't accomplish this; it just reinforces the belief they can't succeed on their own.

Can a disabled child hit a baseball as well as a perfectly-abled one? No. But can that same child learn to work within his disabilities to the point of achieving real accomplishments he can take honest pride in? Absolutely. And that beats all the pity-driven home runs in the world.

Barbara "killed with kindness" Mikkelson

Last updated: 13 December 2000

There's no connection between the overeaching and irresponsible "kindness" of that teacher for a child that had no business being in the classroom and the fillip those boys gave to their disabled peer. There are limits to how much slack we can cut people to avoid pity and condescension but I don't think the baseball story crosses the line. I don't think that boy is going to try out for the majors after that game but I do think he left it with the feeling that he was accepted for a brief period and that everyone involved had a smashing good time. It is hard to judge these limits but when we get too concerned about "killing with kindness" we have to stop and think how much of that concern is for the disabled person's benefit or for our own sense of independence in a society that values competition and accomplishment perhaps too highly. This belief is an illusion at the core of many right-wing policies. I am a "normal" person living on my own and making a go of it in this world. I am also helped inordinately and without cause by hundreds of people every day. I am just not always aware of it but when I am, I try to be thankful.

to a mentally disabled one and the children who made these small sacrifices to bring him some joy. How idiotic to try to make a parallel in such a way. Sure, he wouldn't be able to play baseball successfully with a team that was playing their game, but the joy he got from the experience could lead his parents to entering him into sports that are designed FOR mentally and phyisically disabled children, where his performance COULD be quite successful... he DID his the ball after all. Ever hear of the Special Olympics?

I wouldn't have had that type of insight on my own. Would he have been just as happy and had just as much fulfillment if the pitcher had pitched to him normally and he had simply been able to participate OR was his happiness the result of hitting the home run?

Makes me think, if I play basketball with my kids should I not lower the basket for them? Should I not help them count their points when playing cribbage?

Here's another situation:
My daughters are Irish dancers. The school we belong to is owned by the parents.

There is one family with two boys, the younger has Down's Syndrome. The older is quite an accomplished dancer. The younger wanted to dance also. The teachers placed him into a beginner class. He comes to class and participates along with everyone else.

Because he is unable to keep the timing he has not progressed to more advanced steps. He has remained in the beginner class for several years (becoming taller every year)even though the other children are advancing and being replaced in the beginner class with more young small children. He is always very happy to participate and always being respected by the other dancers and the teachers for his commitment.

It is a source of pride to the other dancers, the teachers and all the parents when he participates at dance shows in front of a couple thousand people and draws some of the biggest applause and cheers.

He certainly enjoys being there. I hope in his future he is allowed to continue to be included in activities he likes with respect given to his uniqueness as he has been with his dance classes.

why is their opinion anything close to relevant - how do they know their counter-story is any more true or commonplace - and why do they choose to simply dig up this counterstory instead of consulting a certified child development expert?

for the record, I read the original story and said "Bullshit", but I'm no expert, and neither is snopes

Why was your initial response "Bullshit?"

It's my nature.

I don't have a problem with that.

it warmed my heart.

have been on a Jewish e mail list. I think he's orthodox but I am not sure.