This weekend, two of my children played in their first piano recital. It's always tricky trying to predict how kids will do under pressure and even trickier when one of them has quirks related to an autistic spectrum disorder.
In my daughter's case, she cannot stand the sound of people clapping or cheering. It is, for her, like nails on a chalkboard, a cacophony of distorted noise that physically hurts her ears and causes her to cry out things like, "Stop, people! Stop that right now!"
Not exactly the sort of reaction anyone expects at something so formal as a piano recital.
So it was with some trepidation that I encouraged my daughter to practice up and hit the stage.
Three short pieces played with absolute perfection later, I found myself clapping madly with tears in my eyes as she not only demonstrated her aptitude for music but bravely withstood the adulation of the audience with nary a wince or a rebuke.
Unless someone else in the audience that day had a child with similar hangups, I daresay no one could appreciate the tremendous strength it took my daughter to endure something that hurts her senses the way the sound of clapping does.
I was proud of her for playing so well. I was even more proud of her for smiling and bowing in the face of a great big fear.
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