Excerpt of A Special Education by Dana Buchman
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Chapter 1
The Wonder Year
Some people, when faced with a major life change, make a conscious effort to
slow everything else down. A woman who’s having a child for the first time might
decide to lighten her load at work. Someone who is taking on new
responsibilities in her job might hold off on starting a family that year.
I have never been one of those people.
For most of my life, I have been a serious doer, undaunted by the notion of
having too much on my plate. If anything, I would jump at the chance to juggle
more for all the world to see. I had been encouraged early on by my mother and
my grandmother to be a high achiever, and I got hooked on the accolades they
showered on me. I wanted to be a superwoman, the embodiment of the
“having-it-all” feminist ideal that became so popular when I was in college in
the 1970s.
A Special Education
If there was ever a year when I got to shine, it was 1986, probably the most
action-packed and thrilling year of my life. I did it all then: I was newly
married to my husband, Tom; we had our first daughter, Charlotte; and the Dana
Buchman designer label was born. I had everything I had ever wanted. It was a
series of dreams come true. I had this amazing husband -- not only handsome but
brilliant, loving, and supportive of my career! Then, I received the offer of a
lifetime for a young designer, the chance to have my own label. It was
practically handed to me on a silver platter by my mentor and boss, Liz
Claiborne. (The Dana Buchman label is owned by Liz Claiborne, Inc.) To top it
all off, I gave birth to this perfect, beautiful little creature whom I just
loved instantly.
Could it get any better? My life was picture-perfect -- on the outside, at
least. People thought, Look at her, keeping it all together, doing everything at
once with so much grace and style. On the inside, though, I was a bit of a mess,
and I didn’t even know it. I was so out of touch with my emotions, so into
living the dream and seeming “perfect,” that I don’t think I even knew how
overwhelming it all was. Here I was, under tremendous pressure to prove myself
in designing my first collection, and at the same time, I was just learning how
to care for a baby. These were two insanely demanding endeavors unto themselves,
let alone in combination.
It was in the next year, when Tom and I started to notice that there was
something amiss with Charlotte and her development, that it started becoming
harder for me to hold it all together. The idyllic picture of my “perfect” life
began to pixelate like a frozen image when the DVD player gets stuck. In the
years that followed, that picture would take on a different hue, colored by the
experience of having a child with serious learning differences (LD) and motor
deficiencies.
That Girl From Memphis
My adult life has been shaped by many things. Being the mother of a child with
LD has turned out to be one of the major, defining details. It’s been a rigorous
education -- nineteen years and counting. And now it’s hard to recall a time
when LD-speak wasn’t a part of my vocabulary.
Growing up in Memphis, Tennessee, in the 1950s and 1960s, I can assure you I
never heard the term learning difference, or even the less politically correct
learning disability. Back then, unfortunately, the kids who had difficulty
reading and spelling and doing math were labeled “the dumb kids.” Knowing what I
do now about LD -- how it is the result of different brain wiring rather than a
lack of intelligence -- I tend to think many of those kids were probably pretty
bright, and it breaks my heart to think of the kids I and others judged
unfairly.
Me, I was always near the top of the class, an A student who loved sitting at
the front of the classroom, raising my hand for the teacher to call on me. I was
the youngest of three kids in a family that placed a high value on academic
achievement.
From A Special Education by Dana Buchman. Copyright Dana Buchman 2006. Reproduced by permission of Da Capo Press.
