By Lois E. Wilson
Years ago someone told me, “Your firstborn is a practice child.” I agree; however, its birth creates “practice parents.”
My husband and I had experience caring for pets. He grew up on a cattle and pig farm and had a degree in Animal Husbandry from Ohio State. I had earned Scout awards in homemaking and child care; I did babysitting for neighbors..
We were looking after our two sons well—at least we thought we were. They had visits to their pediatrician for regular exams for growth and wellness. They were up-to-date on protective vaccinations. They had professional medical care for illnesses and accidental injuries. They received awards for Sunday school attendance. We attended their school and sport events. We believed we had covered all the bases.
One day we realized there had been a serious neglect in one area of our care for them. Our older son was in the third grade. He brought home a note from his teacher. In it she described how she had been watching him and believed he had difficulty seeing. She suggested we have his vision tested.
To this day I am grateful for her attentiveness, concern, and alerting us to what would be best for our son. Of course, we immediately arranged to take him to the eye doctor. His diagnosis was myopia (near-sightedness). The doctor fitted him with glasses. He seemed to be doing much better in school. At the time, we lived in a different area of the state. For his next examination, we decided to take him to a eye specialist—the doctor reported that even with his glasses, his vision tested legally blind.
I’ll never forget on the way home from getting his new glasses, he exclaimed, “Now I can see the airplane in the sky!” When we arrived home, he remarked he had never been able before to see the marble-like markings on the tiles of the kitchen floor.
In the 70’s and 80”s contact lenses became available. Our son was tested and fitted with his first pair. He adjusted well to them. He wore them when he played H.S. varsity basketball.
At one of his away games when scrambling under the basket, a contact lens fell out of his eye. They stopped the game and searched for a couple of minutes, but didn’t find it. At halftime, the custodian was dry mopping the court. We went down, searched, and recovered from the sweepings the lens in good condition.
Over time many events sharpened our awareness until we no longer thought of ourselves as “Practice Parents.” I hope there will always be those who see a problem, and assume the role of “teacher” when needed. We were the myopic ones—not seeing what was right in front of our eyes.