I’ve often written and spoken about my three children. My oldest guy, Harry, is a brilliant little boy, destined I’m sure for a world-class college.

My youngest child, Joe, is the one who I used to refer to as our “whoops” baby – that is until his brilliant older brother introduced him to someone as “my whoops brother.” Well, Joe has that devilish twinkle in his eyes and I sometimes wonder if I might have to save some money for bail someday.

My middle one is my princess. Julia is a very special child. A gift and an enigma. A blessing and a daily challenge. You see, Julia has been diagnosed as having “global developmental delays.”

Every one of us has dreams for our children. We think about what they will be able to achieve. We dream about future birthdays. College graduations. Weddings. Because of Julia’s condition, my dreams for her have changed in the last four years.

While Julia is 4-years-old, she functions at the level of a baby who is about 13-months-old. It is only in the last few months that she has started to crawl. She does not speak at all. I know that I may never hear Julia tell me that she loves me. I am coming to terms with the reality that I will probably never dance with her at her wedding.

When we lived in California, Julia attended a pre-school that was wonderful. It had teachers who cared for her and a classroom that quite literally opened up to the Napa Valley countryside. Every day Julia went to her classroom and was surrounded by rolling hills that climbed to the wine country.

The classroom had a window that provided students, many of whom were prisoners in their own bodies, constrained by physical limitations that kept them from walking through that magnificent landscape, a view of the outdoor world’s beauty. In many ways, that window represented a completely unfettered and free life.

I remember the first day that my wife, Heidi, took Julia to her new school here in Charlotte. She came home in tears. My wife was distraught, beating herself up, questioning whether we had made the right move. You see, Julia’s classroom did not have a window that looked to the outside. No, the view just was not the same as her classroom in Napa.

What were we doing to our daughter, my wife asked. How could we have taken her away from that beautiful setting in the hills and enrolled her at a school where her classroom did not have an outside-facing window?

When Heidi and I were discussing the possibility of moving from the San Francisco area to Charlotte, we considered lots of issues: How much closer we would be to her family in New England and mine in Florida; the values and standards of each community; my career options. We kept coming back to what was best for our family. Where could we raise decent children? We wanted a place where our children could pray to God and proclaim they were patriotic Americans. As much as we did discuss, we never once talked about windows.

I was crushed when Heidi came home that first day from Julia’s new school. I could see that she was having serious second thoughts, and she made that clear. How could we have placed our most vulnerable child in a school where her classroom’s windows faced a hallway? Over and over we wondered whether we were failures as parents. We kept asking if we had made a terrible mistake.

Collectively, we took some deep breaths and said let’s give this a go. You see, every time we told people where Julia was going to school, their reaction was positive. When we mentioned the name of Julia’s school, people would beam and gush. They told wonderful stories about it. They raved about the staff. Never once did anyone mention the number of windows.

So on this Thanksgiving holiday, I am grateful to everyone associated with the Lifespan Circle School. Lifespan is the living dream of a true American hero, Leigh Derby. It was Leigh’s vision that created Lifespan and it is his tireless dedication and selfless hard work that has given life to this wonderful organization that everyday lives up to its charge to “transform the lives of children and adults with developmental disabilities.”

The teachers, aides, therapists and clerical employees all share a love for my daughter and each of the other boys and girls in their care. There is a joy and sense of family like nothing I have ever seen. The teachers take pride in the accomplishments of each child. They celebrate every step, figuratively and literally, that these children take. They are there for each step, as well.

This is Julia’s second year at Lifespan Circle School. This year her classroom has a window that looks out to the playground. The view is nice, but the truth of the matter is that every room in the school has sunshine all year round. The warmth and brightness comes from loving students, caring teachers and appreciative parents. These classrooms could not be sunnier if they each had a hundred picture windows.

If you would like to help transform the lives of children and adults with developmental disabilities, I would urge you to visit www.lifespanservices.org.

This Jeff Katz column originally appeared in The Rhino Times of Charlotte, NC

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