Semia

From the time she started moving, we had an inkling that Neko was a little different than the other kids. When other kids pooped out, she had an endless reserve of energy. While other kids played with focus, she bounded from one thing to another. While other kids sat quietly at story hour, Neko ran in circles and pulled books off shelves. Her temper was quick and her will unbreakable.

While I was proud of all the things about her that were so wonderful, I was a little worried, too. The constant mention of ADD/ADHD in the parenting world began to enter my head, and I wondered if that was what we were dealing with. I decided, at the time, that I wouldn't go down the medical path. I wasn't quite ready to get tangled up in world of therapy and decisions about medication. It just didn't seem the right answer at that time.

So we plugged along. When my friend Bena encouraged me to join her baby tumbling class, I thought it sounded interesting. A way to work out her endless energy? Terrific! A class with rules and structure? Not our strong suit. But when Bena assured me the instructor was fabulous, and would understand Neko's challenges, I conceded.

And so we met Semia.

I should have known from the moment we met, she was going to be one of those people we would still send Christmas cards to when we're 84. I remember her saying, "So THIS is Neko!" She told us her sister was named Niko, and she had rarely met another, so this must be something special.

I'm sure Semia sees all kinds of kids in her line of work. Compliant, exuberant, shy, angry, aggressive…I doubt there's much she hasn't dealt with. But it never seems to faze her. She exudes good energy. Just being in her presence is calming, and she seems to know exactly what each child needs.

So she took on Project Neko. She assured me it was okay that Neko would rather run laps around the gym than participate in circle time. She never got frustrated with my often disruptive child. She would repeat instructions when they were ignored and forgotten, always in a kind, patient voice. For four years, I have bent our schedule around making sure Neko was in Semia's class each week because of the changes I saw taking place.

Because she will be starting kindergarten, today was Neko's last Tumblebees class. I thought briefly of trying to figure out a way to get her there after school or on weekends, but it seems like one too many things in our already tight schedule. The commute makes it extra challenging. And when I realized this was it, I burst into tears. Which confused me, because, really, isn't it just a tumbling class?

But it wasn't just a class. I realize that this has been our therapy. Perhaps we did not go down the conventional medical road, but we found a environment and a teacher who was willing to push up her sleeves and take on our challenge. With patience, kindness, and the space of four years, she has been instrumental in helping Neko gain the skills which are allowing her to sail through life today. Each week, Semia has helped her learn to sit still, listen to instructions, follow directions, and take turns. Simple tasks for some children, but monumental for Neko. Somewhere in between there were somersaults and swinging from the bars, but mostly, she learned how to thrive in an environment that demands some structure.

In a few weeks Neko will begin kindergarten. She will go to class. She will pay attention and follow the rules. She will know when to be compliant and when to let herself think bigger and create a new path. She will be fine. She will better than fine—she will flourish.

On this very last day of her little legs running around that great big gym, I know she would never be who she is today without Semia. There aren't enough words to say a big enough thank you. But, THANK YOU.