Why Christopher Diaz's Skateboarding Fall is Important Representation for Kids with CP

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When I was growing up, I often begged for the things my siblings got, even if I couldn't realistically use them.

So, when my sister got roller skates, I wanted roller skates.  A pair was found at a garage sale.  Old, but they worked, and they were my size.  I don't recall if anyone explicitly told me they were mine.  But I claimed them.

One day, I went outside, and I took off my shoes, struggling into the skates.

Then, I began a super-unsafe coast down my driveway with my walker.  I was all wheels, all spasticity, zero rollerskating skill (I had never learned.)  We lived at the corner of a busy four-way intersection that did not even have a stop sign until my parents went to city hall and demanded one.

It didn't take me long to realize that rollerskating was nothing like using my Roller Racer (which I had a bit more control over and was closer to the ground.)  I veered half into the grass before I hit the street.  I got myself back up the driveway by maneuvering like this - half in the grass, half on the pavement - so I'd have some traction.

I was nine years old - maybe ten - and this was the first thing I thought of when I watched episode 3x12 of 9-1-1 (called "Fools.")

***

After coming to school for parent / teacher conferences and hearing mostly good feedback about his son, Christopher, (played by Gavin McHugh) his dad, Eddie leaves on a high, feeling like he's parenting a "funny, popular genius."  (Though Chris's science teacher did mention that he apparently keeps telling other kids that "tsunamis are no big deal" which "isn't helpful," according to her.)

The next time we see Eddie, though, he's rushing outside of the school, where Christopher's PCA (Carla) and teacher are waiting.  Eddie hears that one of the other kids had a skateboard and were telling Chris how to ride it.  Eddie is convinced it was the other kids' idea and that they "made a fool" out of Christopher.

Christopher comes out of school then, and we see his pants are bloody at the knee and both elbows are badly scraped.  "I'm sorry about my clothes," he says, and Carla says she'll run home and get him some fresh ones to change into, but Eddie insists Christopher is done for the day.  Christopher is bummed because school isn't over yet.  (I also love how, every time Chris is picked up, he holds onto his crutches - because it's instinct!)

***

At home, Eddie says that Skateboard Kid got sent home early and they'll discuss a punishment for him in the morning.  Carla asks, "What about the kid who fell off the skateboard?"

Eddie is flabbergasted: "You think I should punish him for getting hurt?"

"No," Carla says.  "But I think you need to talk to him about how he got hurt.  I know he wants to be like the other kids--"

Eddie insists, "You want me to tell him he's different?"

Carla says, "He already knows that.  You need to teach him what it means.  That he has limitations."

Eddie says, "I'm not going to tell my kid that."

This felt so authentic to me, to have a nondisabled parent resist at the idea of talking to their disabled kid about their disability.

And it is awkward.  And hard.  The only conversations I remember having with my parents were like:

"You're going to have to work twice as hard as other people because people won't think you can do anything, but you have to prove them wrong."

Because they weren't disabled, I felt like they were being critical of me, too.  Telling me, in a sense, how they felt about me.

That I'd have to spend all my life working twice as hard to even be recognized as capable, or human, or legitimate.

***

Christopher comes into the kitchen, and Eddie checks in with him, asking how he's feeling.

"Dumb," Christopher says sadly.  "Everybody saw me fall."

Carla tries to reassure him that, "Everyone falls down sometime.  You don't have to feel embarrassed about that."

Eddie asks more about how Christopher ended up on the skateboard and is surprised to hear him say, "It was my idea.  It looked fun.  It wasn't."  Then Christopher tells Eddie, "You always tell me I can do anything everybody else can do.  You lied."

And yup.

I heard, all the time, "Tonia's just like everyone else, she just uses a walker."

So, I thought I was.  I tried so hard to be.  But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't ever lose the need for adaptive equipment.  I spent until I was twelve or thirteen believing that if I worked hard enough, I could one day walk without crutches (because it was in my IEP as a "reasonable goal for me to keep working toward," even though it was not possible.)

Unlike Christopher, though, I didn't have the feeling I was lied to.

I felt like I had failed when I couldn't manage to walk without crutches.

***

Next, we see Eddie talking with his best friend, Buck, about what happened with Christopher.  He's reeling over this latest developmental milestone - Christopher telling Eddie he lied to him.  

Refreshingly, Buck tells Eddie this is a usual stage.  And then Eddie continues to muse that perhaps he did lie to Christopher - and to himself - by being in denial about what Christopher is able to do.

Buck talks to Eddie briefly about baseball player Jim Abbott, who pitched a no-hitter in the '90s with only one hand.  Eddie asks for details, and Buck clarifies that he practiced the adaptation he'd need relentlessly.

Eddie listens, admits he "likes the positivity" but then says something like, "But no amount of practicing will let Christopher ride a skateboard."  (It is so far from the typical Overcoming Disability Narrative, friends.  My mind was so blown, in the best way.)

***

The next time we see Christopher, it's before school.  Eddie calls for him to come and eat something before they have to leave.  

Christopher appears, still in pajamas.  He says he doesn't feel well.

"Are you sick?" Eddie asks.

Christopher nods.

Eddie feels Christopher's forehead, checking for a fever, "Are you sure?"

Christopher then admits, "I don't want to go."

Eddie picks Christopher up and carries him to the living room to sit down.  "Are you still upset about the other day?"

"I just want to be like everyone else," Christopher says.  (And break my heart.  How many disabled kids have felt just like this?  I know I have.  Especially when surrounded by nondisabled kids.)

Eddie says gently, "But you're not.  I know I told you you could do anything, but that was a dumb thing for me to say."

"Because I have CP," Christopher fills in, knowing.

"No," Eddie says, "Because no one can do everything.  There are some things that you're not going to be able to do.  And some things that you are going to be able to do, but are going to be harder for you than they are for other kids, because you have CP."

"I'm sorry," Christopher says.  "I won't skateboard again."

Eddie tells him it's not about the skateboarding.  That he doesn't want Christopher to be scared to try new things.

"But you can skateboard," Christopher objects.

Eddie agrees, but then tells Christopher that he (Eddie) is incapable of growing plants.  That he's killed every single one he's ever had, but that Eddie heard from Christopher's teacher that he did the best job at growing plants from seeds out of anyone in his class.  "So, there's something you're better at than me."

"Really?" Christopher says, perking up.

"Really," Eddie says.  He reminds Chris again that he doesn't want him to stop trying.  That some of the things he tries won't work out, but maybe the next thing will.  "Maybe, until you get a little older, though, we try new things together?"

Christopher agrees, and Eddie tells him he loves him and they hug.

"You're not like any other kid," Eddie says, pride in his voice.  "You're my kid."

***

Eddie then goes back to Christopher's school and apologizes for snapping at his teacher.  She then tells him that sometimes trying something new can let you know what you're good at...and sometimes it can let you know where to look next.

That Christopher may not be able to excel in skateboarding, necessarily, but that he might grow up to write the next American novel.

"Not tomorrow," she reassures, "but eventually."

I really appreciate that Christopher is not framed as an exceptionally smart or successful child with CP, who earns his place in the show - and in the world - by being exceptional in another way - to "offset" his disability.

***

In the last scene featuring the Diazs, Eddie and Christopher are at a park.  Christopher says "I don't want to be here."  

Eddie says, "Remember what we said about trying new things together?"

"Yes," Christopher says.

Buck and Carla appear pushing an adaptive skateboard with a frame and harness.

"What is that?" Christopher asks, wary, but with a smile spreading.

"You want to try skateboarding?" Eddie asks.

"Okay," Christopher answers with a hesitant smile.  

He's safely secured on the skateboard, wearing a helmet, and being pushed by Eddie and Buck while Carla runs alongside, filming him with her phone.

***

I think, deep down, nine or ten-year-old me has needed to see this episode forever.

Because after nearly rollerskating into a busy intersection, and making my way back up the driveway - into my shoes - and into the house?  That was it.

No one talked to me about it, because no one ever knew I did it.

But I love the fact that kids with CP today can maybe see Christopher trying things and falling down...and parents can see how Eddie handles the situation and maybe handle the next time their kid with CP does something unsafe because it looks fun a little differently...because they've seen a different way represented.

Or maybe, they can tell their kid before anything dangerous happens.  "Hey, if you want to try something new, that's great.  But let's try new things together until you're a little older."

Such an important message.

***

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