Introduction

“riveting … powerful … brilliant … necessary” —Kirkus Reviews

For those drawn to both Tara Westover’s moving account of a difficult childhood and Susan Cain’s research on underappreciated traits … Canaries Among Us reveals the exquisite joy and tender heartache inherent in raising a child who is undervalued by a community.

A lifeline to those struggling with learning differences, bullying, and anxiety, Canaries Among Us explores one of the most widespread threats to child well-being: a lack of acceptance. This heart-rending exposé provides a candid view of the ways unique children are regularly misunderstood and mistreated. Fortunately, through raw storytelling and ground-breaking science, Taylor points to an inspirational alternative: supporting, and even celebrating, the dazzling variety of our humanity. 

The author is donating her profits to organizations promoting mental health, neurodiversity, and bullying prevention.

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Excerpt

Chapter 1: Goldfish

I join the other adults at the curb and wait. Students from various grades shuffle away, but second-grade parents remain, rechecking watches and raising eyebrows at one another.

We are annoyed.

Then curious.

And now we are worried.

I’m grateful my two boys are on playdates so I don’t have to contend with their impatience in addition to my own.

After about ten minutes, the missing class finally bounds toward its assigned bench to await pickup. My daughter is released from her seat, and we walk to the car hand-in-hand. She’s still

young enough to reach for me out of habit.

“Sorry I’m late, Mom.” She explains, “Some kids created an ‘I Hate Hannah Club’ today, and the teacher needed to talk about kindness.” She reminds me of a reporter, objectively conveying the news of her community.

But “Hannah” is my child.

My emotions lock down as I halt the instinct to console her. First, I want facts. “What do you mean, an ‘I Hate Hannah Club’?” Softening my voice, I ask, “Can you tell me more about that?”

“Umm, Daniella created a club and got the other kids to join. Everyone wrote their names down on a paper.”

I question, “There’s a club charter?” while I think, Second graders have actually formalized this cruelty?

She asks, “What’s a charter?” but doesn’t wait for my answer. Instead, she rushes to another concern. “And, uh, Mom, at lunch the other day, Daniella yelled to all the kids, ‘If you like Hannah, raise your hand!’ And nobody did.”

“How many kids were there, Sweetie?” I modulate my voice to appear calm and controlled.

“About twenty.”

Her whole class.

Since the second month of school, we’ve heard reports of disruptive classroom behavior, and the frequency has only increased. We’re now six months in, and some people estimate our teacher spends eighty percent of her time trying to manage one child. Parents of a few of the more docile kids have requested that their child not be partnered with Daniella. And I recently learned that admissions tours are no longer allowed to visit the classroom, suggesting the administration knows this is not the shining example of joyful learning they wish to project.

So far, my husband and I have stayed in the background, opting to trust school leaders to manage the situation. We chose the Global Citizens Academy because of its commitment to developing kind children and instilling good values. The school’s mission is particularly attractive given the power and money seeping into our neighborhood from the looming city nearby. Manhattan might be a dozen train stops away, but its influence is inescapable.

Not only do we believe in GCA’s principles, but we resolved to be patient when we first heard about Daniella’s classroom disruptions. Her parents are divorcing, and we believed she needed support rather than judgment. We wanted to give the teacher the leeway to address specific needs. After all, who knows? It might be our kid who requires extra support next time.

But now it feels like it’s time to engage more intentionally. In the past few weeks, Daniella’s behavior has escalated rather than improved. While she was once a general, albeit almost constant, disruption to the class, her actions are now meaner. Hannah comes home from school complaining regularly that Daniella spit, pushed, and teased. Just last week, Hannah reported, “Daniella grabbed one of my arms and got Lauren to take the other one, and they spun me around till I fell to the ground.”

I assumed these behaviors were indiscriminate, but now I’m wondering, Have we crossed a new boundary? Is Daniella focusing on our child specifically? And encouraging other children to do the same?

When we arrive home, I help Hannah find a snack before stealing away to email her teacher:

Leslie, Hannah just told me about her day, and my heart sank. Before I rush to any conclusions, can you please share your understanding of what happened?

I’ve heard the eight-year-old version, and I’m hoping there’s a more benign explanation.

Leslie responds within the hour:

My heart is aching as well. Can you come and talk before class tomorrow? view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

From the author:

* Do you remember a child who was bullied when you were young? How did you respond? What do you wish you'd known then?

* Do you know unique children who aren't valued? How do you think schools can support them better?

* What can we as community members do to help one another in our times of greatest need?

* What do you think of Hannah’s need for an apology? Are there other ways to move on from injustice and betrayal?

* How can we learn to repair harm and be accountable for our mistakes? Why is this so hard?

* Can you recall an experience in which an organization demonstrated institutional courage to support individuals who were victimized or who reported wrongdoing (the whistleblowers)?

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