We enrolled Virgile in a drum class for kids, willing to offer him another opportunity to socialize with kids of his age while playing his favorite game, music. But after two sessions it appeared we minimized to much what could possibly put an end to our good intentions. The language. If the language of music is universal, that of the teacher is not. And Virgile got quickly discouraged by the not transparent words thrown at him every Wednesday afternoons.
Being the sole one who does not understand anything is obviously frustrating for anybody. So last Wednesday we decided with the teacher, that it was time to find a solution where he could feel good and proud of him, and not helpless and excluded. So we switched to a private drums class where english would be spoken from the basis, with very simple words, along with gesture, and less verbal instructions.
On the way back home, after this first private session, he was so relaxed and happy, I could feel we saved something important. In the taxi, lying on the rear seat with his head on my knees, he was intensely looking at the clouds over the bay.
» Look mum! the clouds are following us. They’re following us like little cars « . And mummy of little poet smiled. Relieved.
Drawing: the playground we go to after the class, when the sand is too wet after the rain to enjoy a beach break.
Photo: Virgile in a boat making his way through the waves of his Hong Kongese challenge.