We were in the middle of a rousing rendition of "Old McDonald" when the door opened and a mysterious woman entered the room. She stood next to the door quietly observing the children and me. My voice and smile never faltered, but quite frankly I was very nervous. Who is this woman? Why is she here? What exactly is she observing? When I looked up again she was gone.

The day went relatively smoothly, but by the time the last child was picked up, I was physically and emotionally drained. I longed for a nonfat latte, some Chopin and a bubble bath. Then my director came in and asked to meet with me before I left for the day.

My heart raced. Did this have anything to do with the woman who had observed my class? Did I choose the wrong songs? Was the circle time too long? Too short? By the time I reached the office, I was an emotional wreck. I sat perched on the edge of my seat and waited for the axe to fall. My director told me the woman who had visited my room earlier was a potential parent to the school and was concerned about how her daughter would function in a regular classroom. Her little girl was born with a birth defect that required she wear leg braces from the knees down. The child was ambulatory but walked very slowly with a lopsided gait. She would need to be carried out to the yard and back to the classroom. Her balance was poor, and she had a tendency to topple over if she was jostled, even slightly. We would need to remind the other children to be careful when walking near her so they wouldn't accidentally cause her to fall.

The director asked me how I felt about her becoming a member of my group. I was speechless. Here I was wondering if I could possibly survive a school year with fifteen of the liveliest four-year-olds in North America, and now I was being asked to take on a child with special needs? I replied that I would accept the child on a trial basis.
That night I couldn't fall asleep. I tossed and turned until morning, then drove to work with my stomach in knots. We were all gathered on the carpet for our morning circle when the door opened and the woman walked in carrying her daughter. She introduced herself as Kelly's mommy and she gingerly sat her daughter down on the edge of the carpet. Most of the children knew Kelly from synagogue and greeted her with warm, affectionate hugs. I looked at Kelly and she looked at me. "Welcome to our room, Kelly. We are so excited that you will be a member of our group."

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