TODAY A STAR WAS BORN

This morning I went to my son Ariel’s school in G’vaot, a scenic hilltop community south of Jerusalem to attend a school talent show.  Ariel has been attending this school since he is eight years old. He is now twenty-seven and has been living at school for the last four years.  All his school mates have some type or another of special needs. Ariel has Down syndrome.

I’ve always enjoyed seeing Ariel and his school mates perform, but today’s show was off the charts.  Not in talent, but in joy.

The event was billed “A Star is Born”.  During the year a dozen or so young men develop their musical talent with a professional music teacher.  Today was the big show: each performer had two to three minutes to be in the limelight.

Ariel plays drums in accompaniment to his teacher on the keyboard. That Ariel has special needs and plays drums is not in itself impressive to me.  Ariel has been blessed with physical abilities and strength that most children with special needs and even typical children do not have. So I’ve had many opportunities to feel proud of his various physical performances.  But today there was something more than Ariel’s strength and agility that made me proud and brought me joy.

Ariel was the sixth performer on the program.  He followed two singers, two keyboard artists, and a drummer. I have to admit, including my son, it would be a stretch to say that any one of them is truly “talented”.  One singer wasn’t on key.  The other lacked expression.  The keyboard artists were each about 97% accurate in hitting the correct keys.  The other drummer was a bit too enthusiastic banging the skins.  And Ariel has always lacked rhythm.

But that’s not the point.  I wish you could have seen Ariel’s face during his two minutes of stardom, and after.  He was as serious and focused on his “time” and “feel” as Keith Moon, Ginger Baker or Ringo Starr, all drummer greats, were about theirs. Ariel’s eyes followed his sticks as he aimed for the sweet spot in each drum. To end his gig, he hit the finale on the large cymbal and then coolly silenced it with his hand.  With that he jumped from his seat still holding the cymbal, propelled by his own energy and drive.  The music stopped, his tense shoulders relaxed, and Ariel tried to, but couldn’t, contain a smile that beamed “success”.

The boisterous applause of his peers, teachers and me riveted his smile to his face.  We cheered Ariel, not his performance.  His star was born.  He knew it. And so did I.

Being his father I had even more to cheer.  I cheered Ariel’s desire to be a drummer; that he wants to build himself.  His dedication to his teacher and his lessons which landed him on stage with drum sticks in hand.  I cheered his self-confidence to perform in front of us.

It wasn’t the fact that he is able to drum or the quality of his drumming that brought me joy today.  It was seeing my son be the best he can be.  And seeing how proud of himself he is to be it.

Isn’t that all a parent really wants for his children, to realize their potential and be the best they can be?  (Unfortunately not. Many parents don’t experience joy from their children because they have expectations which the children cannot or do not want to meet.)

Given all the challenges we parents face we can never have enough joy in our lives.  Let’s grab it when we can. Let’s see our children be the best they can be, in whatever it is.  Even if it isn’t what we expected.

Eliya

**** Here is a photo of Ariel at his drums