Retarded.

There’s THAT word. Remember the jokes about being “retarded?” The word has become a bit taboo, but it still floats around. We’ve all gotten more politically correct and switch to words like: cognitive disabilities, mental disabilities, and learning disabilities. But THAT word is still out there.

I found most definitions in my research to include the term in some form or the word retardation, which according to an on-line dictionary is listed as follows:

Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1) - Cite This Source - Share This

re·tard·ed

–adjective

1.	characterized by retardation: a retarded child.

–noun

2.	(used with a plural verb) mentally retarded persons collectively (usually prec. by the): new schools for the retarded.

—Synonyms backward, disabled, handicapped.

And according to associations and books, the definitions usually are something like this:

• Most individuals with Down syndrome have mental retardation in the mild (IQ 50–70) to moderate (IQ 35–50) range,^[4] with individuals having Mosaic Down syndrome (explained below) typically 10–30 points higher.^[5] In addition, individuals with Down syndrome can have serious abnormalities affecting any body system. They also may have a broad head and a very round face.

• Down syndrome (DS) is a condition in which extra genetic material causes delays in the way a child develops, and often leads to mental retardation. It affects 1 in every 800 babies bornDown syndrome is set of mental and physical symptoms that result from having an extra copy of chromosome 21. Even though people with Down syndrome may have some physical and mental features in common, symptoms of Down syndrome can range from mild to severe. Usually, mental development and physical development are slower in people with Down syndrome than in those without it.

So there we have the word I wrestle with - retarded. The other day I was talking to a friend and we were sharing a funny story about learning, specifically crochet, which neither one of us can do. My daughter Coco has taken up the craft. My friend and I were talking about how reading the instructions from a book about learning how to crochet was like reading hyroglypihcs. I agreed. In the middle of our chatting, she used the example that at one point she felt retarded. There was no awkward silence, but an odd air fell about us. But the thing is, I think it’s me that brings in this air. I didn’t get angry or sensitive or indignant, I just felt the awkward moment. I felt uncomfortable that for even a moment my friend would have to feel uncomfortable.

The power of words. Our labels. Look back up at that definition. At the very end it says - backward. There’s the big problem with retarded. Over the years, it’s become a word to tease and judge others who didn’t do things the “right” way (whatever the heck that is).

In Costa Rica, I cringe when people say you are negro after a day in the sun. Yet it just means you are tan. But after growing up in the dawning of Civil Rights in the States, I find I am super-sensitive to terms surrounding that era. When my daughter speaks of the world and skin colors it means nothing to her about suffering, oppression, discrimination or cruelty. It’s just a way for her to tell me a story about a person she’s met or a character in a book. I’m the one with the label problem. I’m the one with the issue.

My son has this extra chromosome. I do have to find out a way to identify a learning strategy to assist him. Yes, part of THAT word is in his library. When I work with educators or talk with my friends, the idea that Addison needs extra time and understanding to do thing, hangs around us like a tag cloud. Its the history of the word and or intent that gives it power to destroy and hurt, or the ability to empower and move on.

I’ll never be able to crochet more than a string. Coco will probably learn to crochet, and then knit, and then, well…that’s the point. I would never limit my daughter, and I would never limit my son even though he has THAT thing. That EXTRA thing.