If there?s a silver lining to this pandemic and the restrictions imposed on our personal liberties, it?s that I am learning what involuntary loneliness feels like. It?s a lesson that my son Carter, who was born with Down syndrome, has always understood. Isolation and social distancing are experiences he faces in his everyday life. Unexpectedly, COVID-19 has provided me an opportunity to understand his vast capacity for resiliency.
At 14 years old, my son is bright and energetic. He excels at flipping forward and backward on the trampoline. He swims with a club three times a week and butterfly is his best stroke. His spirit is composed of music. Whether he is singing in the backyard for all the neighbours to hear, jamming on his saxophone, printing out the lyrics of his favourite songs or listening to his extensive playlist on his cellphone, music is essential in his life. He?s a pretty typical teenager. But when Carter began attending our community school in regular education classes, we started down a road that was anything but typical. We encountered a lack of resources, insufficient classroom support, inadequacies in professional development and an overwhelming sense of fear. The school system is not set up for difference, not prepared to handle diversity and not eager to adapt.

Carter jumps on the backyard trampoline. Photo: Courtesy of Melanie Williams

Consequently, I had to fight to have my son included, defending his legal right to attend our designated public scho...