Students with Down Syndrome belong in our Catholic schools
If you ask the fifth-graders at St. Mary’s School, they’ll tell you that the luckiest kid in their class is the boy who sits next to my daughter Pia.
When I first heard that, I was surprised.
At home, Pia rarely sits still for long. She interrupts people to tell complicated stories or jokes— many of which are quite funny, but which don’t always come at the right time. When she gets bored, she says so, and then she insists on moving on, to do whatever she regards as more interesting than you.
Pia has Down syndrome.
She’s sweet, my daughter, and I love her. She has a big heart, great comedic timing and a sense of self-confidence I often envy.
In fact, I’m sometimes self-conscious on Pia’s behalf—more than I should be—which is why I wondered whether conscientious students would really be keen to sit next to her in class.
But Pia, to her great delight, is immensely popular at St. Mary’s School. So is her brother Max, who also has Down syndrome.
Their great personalities are not the only reason they are beloved.
They’re known and loved and valued because their school has made a decision to include them, and other children with disabilities, as full and active participants in their classrooms.
In fact, our parish school has decided that welcoming children with significant disabilities is an important part of its Catholic identity and a big part of forming all children to be disciples of Jesus Christ.
That is not always the case. While the Catholic Church has long been an outspoken voice for the rights and dignity of people with disabilities—encouraging parents of disabled children to choose life—those same children have often been excluded from Catholic schools. In most Catholic schools, parents like us have long been told that the cost of educating our children would be too great, or that public schools are better equipped for their formation.
It wasn’t long ago that parents at our parish were told the same thing.
