Namine, being in a wheelchair, of course cannot use a “normal” bicycle. What she has is called a hand crank bicycle, and it’s exactly what it sounds like: a bicycle pedaled not by foot, but by hand.
When we registered Namine for the class — which was supposed to go for several weeks — we hoped that Namine would be able to meet and befriend other ‘chair kids her age. Not that making friends has ever been difficult for her; on the contrary, it’s never been a problem. But she is sometimes bothered by the physical differences between her and her friends; it would be nice for Namine to be at eye level with her peers, for a change.
The class was at a high school. We had directions to enter through a specific door, but upon entering, we found that it entered to a stairwell. Lovely, I thought. Oh well, fortune favors the bold. I bent down next to Namine and instructed her to wrap her arms around me. I grabbed hold of her wheelchair’s frame, and carried Namine up to the next level. There, we thought, we’d get the class underway.
We were wrong.
We were informed by the person in charge — and I use the expression “in charge” loosely — that the class was cancelled. The people responsible for admissions had failed to contact everyone to let them know not to come, that there was no class after all.
We left disappointed. No, that word is not sufficient. Jessica and I were disappointed, but Namine was heartbroken. She had been looking forward to the class for some time, literally counting down the days.
We have since been told that the class is not cancelled after all. It’s been rescheduled for this Thursday, so hopefully it’ll actually happen this time. I guess we’ll see. It just feels like the people in charge don’t really know what they’re doing.